A web page dedicated to you, Louise H. for Mothers Day.
| Happy Mother's Day Mom |
A note for visitors: Here is the link back if you arrived here through Mayomay's Poetry Corner.
Please do not take the pictures from this page instead visit Kalazar, PixelArt, Chozen & JadeDove Designs. Just click on their logo's at the bottom of the page. They would appreciate you dropping by just as I did and look at their entire selections, you won't regret it. And please visit my other pages, just click on the index button below.
A Poem I wrote for you, Mom:
My Mother In The Mirror
She has grace, love, inner beauty,
Her age I can never reveal,
She never spreads a rumor
To be a Teacher, she went to school,
She loves the Lord with all her heart,
When I was little she'd quote:
Charity, compassion, a sense of duty,
A Mother, of whom, I'm proud
And you should hear her sing out loud!
for my tongue she would steal.
By looking at her you'd never know
her sister, I'm not, but many think so.
and can be very prim and proper,
albeit, she has a great sense of humor,
when she laughs you gotta laugh with her.
And lives by the Golden Rule.
A bookworm, you see, is she
which is what she taught me to be.
And taught her children to be just as smart.
She's an excellent and understanding Mom,
I'd be her cheerleader if I had a PomPom!
"There Once Was A Girl With A Curl".
And on her words I did dote,
because she was such a beautiful girl.
Her reflection I hoped someday to see,
in my mirror looking back at me.
_GLJ
I love you, Mom, Happy Mother's Day!!
| Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, "It's their life," and feel nothing? When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop worrying?" A nurse said, "When they get out of the accident stage." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing. When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry. They all go through this stage, and then you can sit back, relax, and enjoy them." My mother listened and said nothing. When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. In a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults." By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being vulnerable, I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. But I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's wan smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right?" "Call me the minute you get home." " Are you depressed about something?" Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse? Or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life? One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've been calling for three days, and no one answered. I was worried." I smiled a wan smile.
_Author Unknown |
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My Thanks to Kalazar for the butterfly picture, JadeDove at Proverbs Women Gifs for the Lamb Of God Globe and Guestbook button, PixelArt for the Jewel Wonderland Globe and Chozen for the Buttons.
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