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Showing results for tags 'Mothers: Young and Old'.
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Mothers: Young and Old A woman was calling on a friend whose children joined them for a few moments and then politely excused themselves and left the to make refreshments for the two women. The lady visiting the home said, "I'd give my life to have two such children!" The mother of the children earnestly replied, "That's exactly what it takes." “Mother” or “Mom” is the most precious word in all of language. Most all the other beautiful things in life come by twos, and threes, dozens and hundreds: roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers, sisters, relatives and friends. But we have only one mother. For the most part, flowers will be given and accolades spoken for those young mothers with children in the home; and, rightfully so. The challenges of motherhood today are myriad and endless. Someone has written, Mothers are selfless, with tender devotion, asking no thanks for the love which they give. Mothers are brave, their bright courage enduring agony and pain that their children might live. Mothers are artists, and mothers are poets, etching and writing, the life of a child. Mothers are gardeners, who tend to their seedling, weeding with care lest a flower be defiled. Mothers forgive our too frequent omission; cherish our virtues, which others ignore. Mothers lift us by faith to our highest attainment; she is the one we ever adore. Youthful mothers have their moments, but there are those of us who have gone from being cared for, to extending care. As she once stroked the tow-headed kid’s hair, now those children stroke hers as the years bring in a child like behavior to their mothers. We watch as our mother’s mind begins to totter from fantasy to reality; from remembering the past to not even remembering her children’s name. She once listened to our childish babble, and understood. Now we must understand. She one steadied our stumbling steps; and now we stead hers. And sometimes we forget that the silver hair was once soft and curly; and the cheeks, now pale, once burst with color. And the excitement of youth to dare and do, once raced through those now aging veins. To these mothers we say, “I loved you then, and I love you now. Stay with me; lean on me. I was once your child, and now time has made you mine.” For mothers young and old we kneel before God in humble prayer and thank Him, mother, for you. Nelg
