The Images of Mother:

4 YEARS OF AGE
My Mommy can do anything!

 8 YEARS OF AGE
My Mom knows a lot!  A whole lot!

12 YEARS OF AGE
My Mother doesn't really know quite everything

14 YEARS OF AGE
Naturally, Mother doesn't know that, either

16 YEARS OF AGE
Mother?  She's hopelessly old-fashioned.

18 YEARS OF AGE
That old woman? She's way out of date!

25 YEARS OF AGE
Well, she might know a little bit about it.

35 YEARS OF AGE
Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion.

45 YEARS OF AGE
Wonder what Mom would have thought about it?

65 YEARS OF AGE
Wish I could talk it over with Mom.....

Real Mothers

Real Mothers don't eat quiche; they don't have time to make it.
Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in the sandbox.
Real Mothers often have sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids.
Real Mothers know that dried play dough doesn't come out of shag carpet.
Real Mothers don't want to know what the vacuum just sucked up.
Real Mothers sometimes ask "why me?" and get their answer when a little
voice says, "because I love you best."
Real Mothers know that a child's growth is not measured by height or
years or grade. . .  It is marked by the progression of Mama to Mommy
to mom.

Mom  A conversation between friends:

We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and
her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey,"
she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more
spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all.
I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to
know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that
the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a
mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be
vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a
newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every
plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees
pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than
watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that
no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to
the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of
"Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a
moment's hesitation. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she
has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by
motherhood.  She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an
important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.
She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running
home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be
routine that a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than
the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in
the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of
independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect
that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she
may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually
she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same
about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her
once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her
offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to
accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs. I want her to
know that a caesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of
honor.  My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the
way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man
who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with
his child.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with him
again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my friend could
sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have
tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues,
but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war
to my children's future. I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration
of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the
belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the
first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually
hurts.  My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my
eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the
table, squeeze my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and
for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this
most wonderful of callings the blessed gift of God and that of being a
Mother.

 - Author Unknown



This poem was written by my grandmother to my mother sometime in the early 1980's.

My mind wanders back to yesterday - when you lay new in my arms.
You brought so much sunshine and laughter into our lives.  I know I made
millions of mistakes in bringing you up - but I've yet to talk with a
Mother
who doesn't feel the same way.  So, we leave it all with God.  He knows
we did what we knew best at the time.  You see, we didn't have experience
to draw from.  We love and wanted you as much as our human hearts could
love.
You were out-going and cheerful - always drew admiring looks as you would
strut
along beside or between us.  I took real pleasure in dressing you so
prettily.
Your dark blond curls always hung loosely around your face.  A fitting
frame for
beautiful blue eyes and a big smile.  You loved to sing.  I enjoyed
reading to
you & you never tired of your favorite stories.  Now today I hear wisdom
as you speak.
I'm thankful that you're not one of the empty-headed young people that we
see so much
of today.
Today, & for many years already, you're a mother - with two lovely
teen-aged girls of
your own.  My prayer is that they bring as much joy into your life as you
brought to
mine.  Thank you for them (for me).  They have been such a blessing to
me.  Guess
I'm a typical grandma.  Always talking about the girls and showing
pictures of them.

Lois M. Jenkins
(1922-1996)



A Prayer For Mother
Lord Jesus, Thou hast known
A mother's love and tender care;
And Thou wilt hear while, for my own
Mother dear, I make this morning prayer.

Protect her life, I pray,
Who gave the gift of life to me;
And may she know from day to day
The deepening glow of joy that comes from Thee.

As once upon her breast,
Fearless and well content, I lay
So let her heart on Thee at rest,
Feel fears depart and troubles fade away.

Ah, hold her by the hand,
As once her hand held mine.
And though she may not understand
Life's winding way, lead her in peace divine. 

I cannot pay my debt
For all the love that she has given;
But Thou, love's Lord, will not forget
Her due reward -- bless her in earth and heaven.
Henry van Dyke
 

Helping Mother:
The children next door told their mother she wasn't to lift a finger on
Mother's Day.
They were going to do all the cooking.  So, they got out three pots, two
frying pans, a double boiler, three mixing bowls, a chopping board, six
measuring spoons, eight serving dishes -- and Mom was delighted.
She said it was the best Jell-O she ever tasted!



THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL

A weary mother returned from the store,
Lugging groceries through the kitchen door.
Awaiting her arrival was her 8 year old son,
Anxious to relate what his younger brother had done.

"While I was out playing and Dad was on a call,
T.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall!
It's on the new paper you just hung in the den.
I told him you'd be mad at having to do it again."

She let out a moan and furrowed her brow,
"Where is your little brother right now?"
She emptied her arms and with a purposeful stride,
She marched to his closet where he had gone to hide.

She called his full name as she entered his room.
He trembled with fear--he knew that meant doom!
For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved
About the expensive wallpaper and how she had saved.

Lamenting all the work it would take to repair,
She condemned his actions and total lack of care.
The more she scolded, the madder she got,
Then stomped from his room, totally distraught!

She headed for the den to confirm her fears.
When she saw the wall, her eyes flooded with tears.
The message she read pierced her soul with a dart.
It said, "I love Mommy," surrounded by a heart.

Well, the wallpaper remained, just as she found it,
With an empty picture frame hung to surround it.
A reminder to her, and indeed to all,
Take time to read the handwriting on the wall



"Mary will you work for me?"
Mary was studying her Bible quietly at her desk. A still, small voice
began to speak to her. "Mary?"
"Yes, Lord?" Mary had been walking with the Lord and recognized His
still, small voice, especially in His Word.
"Mary, what if I were to ask you to go to work for me?"
"Oh yes, Lord." Mary answered anxiously. "To France, perhaps?" as she
gazed at the globe on her desk, pointing a finger decidedly to Paris.
"What if I were to ask you to go to work for Me in an obscure place?"
"Ah, yes, Lord." Mary sat dreaming while moving her finger down a bit.
"Africa. The jungle..." Her mind wandered to the missionary stories
she had read, "perhaps where Elisabeth Elliot worked."
"Mary, what if I were to ask you to go to work for me in an even more
obscure place?"
"Hmmm.. even more obscure. South America, Lord? or innermost China?
or perhaps Indonesia? Is that what you mean, Lord?"
"Mary, what if I were to ask you to go to work for me in a home?"
"Ah, now I understand, Lord. A home for handicapped kids."
"Mary, what if I were to ask you to go to work for me in an obscure
home?"
"An obscure home? Perhaps a home for orphaned children in Mexico or
South America?"
"Mary, what if I were to ask you to work for me in your own obscure
home?"
"Here Lord? Here? All I do here is scrub, vacuum, wipe noses, wash
clothes, sing lullabies, pray with toddlers, change diapers, cook meal
after meal, sweep and dust, stretch the money, mop and mop; oh, and
then over and over the very same thing again, sometimes more in one day
than I can count. This can't be the obscure home You mean, Lord!"
"Yes, Mary, this is the home. Will you do it for me? When you do it
for the least of these, you do it for Me. Will you do it for Me,
Mary?"
"No one is going to notice it, Lord, not even the ones I am doing it
for. None of them really even care, Lord. Everything I do, they undo.
And then I have to do it all over again. Don't you think Paris is kind
of obscure?"
"Mary, I have chosen you especially for this work in this specific
place. I have Leaders and Warriors being raised here. Will you wipe
these noses for me, Mary? Will you bring your children up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord, Mary? Someday I may send them out
to places like China, Indonesia, South America, Mexico, and yes,
perhaps
even Paris. Will you do this work for me, Mary, in this obscure home
of
yours?"
Spinning the globe gently, Mary bowed her head. "Yes, I will, Lord.
Yes, I will."
"I'll do it through you, Mary. Keep coming to me for your strength.
It
is a very big job raising My Warriors; but I will walk with you
through
it every step of the way. I will be your Helper, and I will be your
Strength.



One afternoon a man came home from work to find total
mayhem in his house. His three children were outside,
still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty
food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front
yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the
front door to the house. Proceeding into the entry, he
found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked
over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.
In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon
channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and
various items of clothing. In the kitchen, dishes
filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the
counter, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken
glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand
was spread by the back door. He quickly headed up the
stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes,
looking for his wife. He was worried she may be ill,
or that something serious had happened. He found her
lounging in the bedroom, still curled in the bed in
her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him,
smiled, and asked how his day went. He looked at her
bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?" She
again smiled and answered, "You know every day when
you come home from work and ask me what in the world I
did today?"  "Yes," was his incredulous reply. She
answered, "Well, today I didn't do it."



WHAT MOMS *REALLY* WANT FOR MOTHER'S DAY
To be able to eat a whole candy bar (alone) and drink a Coke without any
"floaters"---what fun would that be?
To have my 14-year-old answer a question without rolling her eyes in that
"Why is this person my mother?" way.
Five pounds of chocolate that won't add twenty.
A shower without a child peeking through the curtain with a "Hi ya, Mom!"
just as I put razor to my ankle.
A full-time cleaning (male) person who looks like Brad Pitt. or Mel
Gibson
For my teenager to announce, "Hey, Mom!  I got a full scholarship and a
job all in the same day!"
A grocery store that doesn't have candy/gum/cheap toys displayed at the
checkout line.
To have a family meal without a discussion about bodily secretions.
To be able to step on a plane with my toddlers and not have some
pencil-neck-yuppie-geek moan, "Oh, no!  Why me?"
Four words:  Fisher Price Play Prison



When a boy or girl thrusts his small
hand in yours, it may be smeared with
chocolate ice cream, or grimy from
petting a dog, and there may be a wart
under the right thumb and a bandage
around the little finger.
But the most important thing about his
hands is that they are the hands of the
future.  These are the hands that
someday may old a Bible or a Colt
revolver; play the church piano or spin a
gambling wheel; gently dress a leper's
wound, or tremble wretchedly
uncontrolled by an alcoholic mind.
Right now, that hand is yours.  It asks
for help and guidance.  It represents a
full-fledged personality in miniature to
be respected as a separate individual
whose day-to-day growth into Christian
adulthood is your responsibility.



Why Mothers Cry

"Why are you crying?" he asked his mom. "Because I'm a mother,"
she told him.

"I don't understand," he said.

His mom just hugged him and said, "You never will!" Later the little
boy asked his father why Mother seemed to cry for no reason. "All
mothers cry for no reason," was all his dad could say. The little boy
grew up and became a man, still wondering why mothers cry. So he
finally put in a call to God and when God got on the phone the man
said, "God, why do mothers cry so easily." God said, "You see son,
when I made mothers they had to be special. I made their shoulders
strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to
give comfort. I gave them an inner strength to endure childbirth and
the rejection that many times come from their children. "I gave them
a hardiness that allows them to keep going when everyone else gives
up, and to take care of their families through sickness and fatigue
without complaining. "I gave them the sensitivity to love their
children under all circumstances, even when their child has hurt them
very badly.  This same sensitivity helps them to make a child's
boo-boo feel better and helps them share a teenager's anxieties and
fears. "I gave them a tear to shed. It's theirs exclusively to use
whenever it's needed. It's their only weakness. It's a tear for
mankind."







THINGS MOMS WOULD NEVER SAY
"How on earth can you see the TV sitting so far back?"
"Yeah, I used to skip school a lot, too"
"Just leave all the lights on...it makes the house look more cheery"
"Let me smell that shirt -- Yeah, it's good for another week"
"Go ahead and keep that stray dog, honey. I'll be glad to feed and walk
him every day"
"Well, if Timmy's mom says it's OK, that's good enough for me."
"The curfew is just a general time to shoot for. It's not like I'm
running a prison around here."
"I don't have a tissue with me...just use your sleeve"
"Don't bother wearing a jacket - the wind-chill is bound to improve."



My Mother taught me LOGIC...
"If you fall off that swing and break your neck, you can't go to the
store with me."

My Mother taught me MEDICINE...
"If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they're going to freeze that
way."

My Mother taught me TO THINK AHEAD...
"If you don't pass your spelling test, you'll never get a good job!"

My Mother taught me ESP...
"Put your sweater on; don't you think that I know when you're cold?"

My Mother taught me TO MEET A CHALLENGE...
"What were you thinking?  Answer me when I talk to you...Don't talk
back to me!"

My Mother taught me HUMOR...
"When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."

My Mother taught me how to BECOME AN ADULT...
"If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up.

My mother taught me about GENETICS...
"You are just like your father!"

My mother taught me about my ROOTS...
"Do you think you were born in a barn?"

My mother taught me about the WISDOM of AGE...
"When you get to be my age, you will understand."

My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION...
"Just wait until your father gets home."

My mother taught me about RECEIVING...
You are going to get it when we get home.

and my all time favorite thing--JUSTICE
"one day you will have kids, and I hope they turn out just like
YOU..then you'll see what it's like."







DAILY MOTIVATION FOR BEING A MOM
Mom and Dad were watching TV when Mom said,  "I'm tired, and it's getting late. I think I'll go to bed."
She went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day's lunches,
rinsed out the popcorn bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the
following evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put
spoons and bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next
morning. She then put some wet clothes into the dryer, put a load of clothes into
the wash, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button. She picked up the
newspapers strewn on the floor, picked up the game pieces left on the table and put
the telephone book back into the drawer. She watered the plants, emptied a
wastebasket and hung up a towel to dry. She yawned and stretched and
headed for the bedroom. She stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher,
counted out some cash for the field trip, and pulled a textbook out from
hiding under the chair. She signed a birthday card for a friend,
addressed and stamped the envelope and wrote a quick note for
the grocery store. She put both near her purse. Mom then creamed her
face, put on moisturizer, brushed and flossed her teeth and trimmed her nails.
Hubby called, "I thought you were going to bed."  "I'm on my way," she said.
She put some water into the dog's dish and put the cat outside, then made
sure the doors were locked. She looked in on each of the kids and turned out a
bedside lamp, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks in the hamper, and
had a brief conversation with the one up still doing homework. In her own room,
she set the alarm, laid out clothing for the next day, straightened up the
shoe rack. She added three things to her list of things to do for tomorrow.
About that time, the hubby turned off the TV and announced to no one in
particular "I'm going to bed," and he did.  --Woman's Work--
~~~ author unknown ~~~



Her Baby's Tiny Hands
-By Joyce Folsom Johnson

 While pregnant with her son
 Beneath her heart within,
 She'd often feel his hands
 Moving inside her skin.

 He'd stretch his arm and hand
 And push out on her side
 She'd lovingly push it back
 With a smile so sweet and wide.

 She could hardly wait
 For his upcoming birth
 To touch his tiny hands
 And welcome him to earth.

 Then it finally came,
 The night that he was born.
 With joy she couldn't contain,
 She held him until morn.

 She explored his tiny fingers.
 She counted all his toes.
 She wanted to get to know him,
 His ears, his cheeks, his nose.

 The wonder of it all,
 At this new baby boy!
 She could not hold back.
 She wept with tears of joy.

 She touched his tiny hand,
 A miniature of her own.
 He squeezed it tight on her finger.
 Such joy she had never known!

 The time passed and he grew.
 As a toddler, it was grand
 To walk along and hold
 His fleshy little hand.

 She taught him many things.
 Together they spent hours.
 She'd take his little hand
 And touch it to a flower.

 When she would hold him close,
 He soon developed the knack
 Of hugging her 'round the neck,
 His tiny hand patting her back.

 As her son grew older,
 His young hands also grew.
 He learned many ways to use them.
 Each day brought something new.

 She helped him learn to read.
 She helped him learn to write.
 Then, as the day was ending,
 She'd pray with him at night.

 He learned to use a hammer
 With which to drive a nail.
 He'd sometimes strike his finger
 And let out quite a wail!

 Her son continued gr owing
 And soon became a man.
 She loved him just as much
 As when his life began.

 His hands were now full grown,
 So strong, yet tender, when
 He, with deep compassion,
 Comforted a friend.

 She was extremely grateful
 When his hands would fold;
 And bowing his head in prayer,
 To his Father in Heaven he'd hold.

 As the years flew swiftly by,
 She watched her son with pride,
 His strong but gentle arms
 And hands there at his side.

 She then thought her life was over.
 She suffered unspeakable loss
 When her son's beloved hands
 Were nailed to a wooden cross...

 But that was just the beginning.
 For he died and rose again.
 Her sorrow then was ended,
 And joy replaced her pain.

 For, you see, her son was Jesus,
 God coming to earth as man,
 To save us from our sins
 According to His plan.

 We cannot save ourselves.
 Our sins would lead to death.
 God put our sins on Jesus,
 The perfect and the best.

 With this came our forgiveness
 If we believe in Him
 And ask Him into our hearts,
 He'll take away our sins.

 As He was resurrected,
 Eternal Life He'll bring
 To all who have faith and believe
 And to His hand will cling.



Mother's Last Prayer
What will we do without her,
Are there really words to say.
Just how much we'll miss her,
Now that she's gone away.

What will we do without her,
There can never be another.
A tender face, a loving smile,
The one that we called mother.

Now the Lord has called her,
To us it might seem wrong.
She did her good deeds here on earth,
And now she's been called home.

The things she wanted most in life,
It seemed she was denied.
We'll never know how many nights,
She laid awake and cried.

To see her children close once more,
And loving one another.
Was the prayer she said each night,
And it was the last prayer of our mother.
In memory of my mother
by Winnie Lovett 1968
WinnieBL@aol.com
Thank you Amelia Anne's Little Bit of Heaven



CHILD'S ANGEL
Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born.  So one day he
asked God:
They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow but how am I going to
live there being so small and helpless?
Among the many angels, I chose one for you.  She will be waiting for
you and will take care of you.
But tell me, here in Heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and
smile, that's enough for me to be happy.
Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day.
And you will feel your angel's love and be happy.
And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if
I don't know the language that men talk?
Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will
ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you
how to speak.
And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?
Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to
pray.
I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?
Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life.
But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore.
Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way
for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you.
At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth
could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly:
Oh God, if I am about to leave now,  please tell me my angel's name
Your angel's name is of no importance,  you will call your angel:
Mommy
(author unknown)

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