If you send this to just one person, it should make it
all the way around the world by Mother's Day.
This is for the mothers who have sat up
all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up puke laced with Oscar
Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here"
This is for the mothers who have sat in
rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.
This is for all the mothers who show up
at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers
in their purse. For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew
Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who don't or can't.
This is for the mothers who gave birth
to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them
homes.
For all the mothers who cried
outside hospital rooms but smiled inside for their babies and slept in fold out
chairs so they wouldn't be so frightened.
This is for the mothers whose
priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And
for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football, hockey
or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so
that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of
course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.
This is
for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in
despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And
for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse
happens.
This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children
and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand) mothers who
wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.
This is for all the
grandmothers raising their grandchildren because their daughters (or
daughters-in-law) can't.
This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so
their children can eat.
For all the mothers who read
"Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one
more time."
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie
their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted
for Velcro instead.
This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to
cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.
This is for every mother
whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even
though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college --or
married -- or Moms themselves.
This is for all the mothers who sent
their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once
they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking
them to please pick them up. Right away.
This is for mothers whose
children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
For
all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye
their hair green.
For all the mothers of the victims of recent school
shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting. For the mothers of the
survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging
their child who just came home from school, safely.
This is for all the
mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home
safely from a war.
What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience?
Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a
button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is
it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the
street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that
takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a
sleeping baby. Is it the panic, years later that comes
again at 2
A.M. when you
just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your
home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear
news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?
The emotions of motherhood are
universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper
changes and sleep deprivation...
And mature mothers learning to let go. For
working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers..
Mothers with money, mothers without. This is for you all. For all of
us. Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can. Tell them
every day that we love them. And pray. Please pass along to all the Moms in your
life. "Home is what catches you when you fall - and every once in a while we all
fall."
Please pass this to a wonderful mother
you know. (I just did)
