Belated Mothers Day

This entry was intended for Mother's Day.  But a week or so before Mother's Day, I pinched a nerve in my neck.  It was probably the result of seasonal brush pruning on our back hill.  I must confess that I am not much for whacking away at spring growth, but the fire ordinance requires it and so I get out each year and do my duty.  Somewhere along the way, my neck rebelled, though I cannot pinpoint an injury 'event'.  In any case, the pain got bad enough that I missed a day of work and actually went to the doctor, as no man should ever do.  At this point, with a continued regimen of Ibuprofen, prescription muscle relaxant, hot showers, neck exercises and lots of time flat on my back, my condition is much improved.  Enough so that I can actually think about doing something I enjoy.  Although at the moment, my grandson is trying to help me type, which makes blogging a challenge!

Without further ado, and so I can pay my grandchildren proper attention, here is my tribute to a some very special mothers.

THREE MOTHERS

Your hair is gray, your home is empty.

Still, you start every morning 

with prayer for your children, 

and their children

and their children's children.

Some nearby, some far away,

always in your heart.

Though you have toiled for years,

your hands are not idle,

you do not ask for leisure.

Instead, you spend your time

with boys and girls who need a grandma

telling stories, playing games, doing crafts;

writing to missionaries

who so rarely hear from home;

finding a place of service

wherever you are.

Your step is slower, your smile just as ready.

Though the years run to their end

and many who started the race with you

have gone before to their reward

You keep fighting the good fight, 

Greeting the Creator

of the new day.

Another day to love, to serve, to pray

My mother.

In the darkness before dawn,

you rise to prepare, 

with little thought for yourself.

Your hours and minutes 

are full to overflowing.

Like birds in the nest,

a house of girls clamor:

Food for the mind.

Food for the body.

Food for the soul.

The bounty of your womb and your heart

stretch the limits of energy, of patience.

Your daughters grow 

in grace, in wisdom, in stature.

They show the depth of mother love

in unthinking reflection,

still drawing life from you

though no longer infants.

Happy and wholesome, 

roots sinking deep

in the rich soil of family.

And when evening comes, 

the day's toil ceases.

With grateful heart you go to rest,

knowing tomorrow will come,

another day of hidden service.

My wife.

Your eyes sparkle with

the fresh discovery of mother love.

New life has blessed your marriage:

the miracle of children.

A little girl, with impish grin and new words every day.

A little boy, crawling everywhere with boundless energy.

And I see a young woman,

learning the richer joy found

in the daily toil of endless nurturing.

Pouring your life into the lives of your offspring.

The small attentions,

touching, holding, cradling,

gentle words, firm words.

Smiling at small victories,

always guiding, always loving.

Seeing your own mother

in the new light of your shared mission,

the unsurpassed beauty of motherhood.

My daughter.