The
young mother set her foot on the path of life. "Is
this the
long way?" she asked. And the guide said, "Yes,
and the way
is hard. You will be old before you reach the end of it,
but the end will be better than the beginning."
But
the young mother was happy, and she would not believe
that anything could be better than these years. So she
played
with her children, and gathered flowers for them along
the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and the sun
shone on them, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing
will ever be lovelier than this."
Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark,
and
the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew
them
close and covered them with her mantle, and the children
said,
" Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm
can come."
The morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children
climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at
all times she said to the children, "A little patience
and
we are there." So the children climbed, and when they
reached
the top they said, "Mother, we would not have done it
without
you." And the mother, when she lay down at night looked
up
at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the
last,
for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness.
Yesterday I gave them courage. Today, I have given them strength."
The next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth,
clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped
and
stumbled, and the mother said, "Look up. Lift your eyes
to the
light." And the children looked and saw above the clouds
an
everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the darkness.
That
night the Mother said, "This is the best day of all
for I have
shown my children God."
The
days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years.
The mother grew old and she was little and bent, but her
children were tall and strong and walked with courage.
And when the way was rough, they lifted her, for she
was
as
light as a feather. At last they came to a hill, and beyond
they
could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.
The mother said, "I have reached the end of my journey.
Now I know the end is better than the beginning, for
my children can walk alone, and their children after them."
The
children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother,
even
when you have gone through the gates." They stood
and watched
her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her.
The
children said, "We cannot see her, but she is with
us still. A Mother
like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence."
Your Mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the
leaves as you walk down the street; she's the smell of bleach
in
your freshly laundered socks; she's the cool hand on your
brow
when you're not well. Your Mother lives inside your laughter,
and she's crystallized in every tear drop. She's the
place
you
came from, your first home; and she's the map you follow with
every step you take. She's your first love and your first
heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you . . .
Not time, not space . . . not even death!
~
Author Unknown ~
Roses for Mother
If roses grow in Heaven ~ Lord please pick a bunch for me,
Place them in my Mother's arms ~ and tell her they're from me.
Tell her I love and miss her ~ and when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek ~ and hold her for awhile.
Excerpt from a poem - Title and Author Unknown
If I had a flower for every time I thought of you,
I could walk in my garden forever.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson