Mother’s Day Post – Serious

Here is the serious one. Enjoy!

A Mother’s Influence

Her feet carry a policeman, a doctor, a counselor, a preacher, a teacher, a
lawyer, a judge, a referee, a musician, a ball player, a cook, a waitress, or a
chauffeur to the place of need.

Her legs provide a safe place to flee to and to hold on to when a stranger
comes or some other danger threatens.

Her knees bend for work, for play, and for prayer for her family.

Her lap is a calming chair where one can sit and cry, or read a book, or
listen to a story, or to take a nap.

Her fingers are vicious ticklers. They will find a giggle in a moment. But
when she points a finger at you, the party is over. You are caught in your
sins. You are dead and you know it. (Fortunately, she knows how to resurrect
the dead.)

Her hands have the grip of a steel trap. Once caught, you cannot escape.
But they also carry loads of comfort and encouragement when you get that tender
pat on the back. Of course that same tender hand becomes a solid switch when
she thinks someone needs to be straightened out.

Her arms embrace the whole atmosphere with love. They are strong enough to
move heavy boys and girls from a good sleeping spot on the floor to their beds.
Her hugs put a balm on hurt feelings. They block out meanness and unkind
words. A hug from her will put a problem in its place.

Her shoulders are a good place to rest a weary head after a hard day at play.
They are broad enough to bear all the big problems that come.

Her face reflects the wisdom of the ages. It shines with joy when she
smiles. It darkens the world when she frowns. It is the most beautiful thing to
watch.

Her lips kiss all the hurt away from a scratch. They whisper secrets that
the world doesn’t know.

Her eyes see everything you do. They beam with pride over accomplishments.
They weep with pain over disobedience.

Her ears hear the silence that means trouble. They can hear the cries of a
broken heart or the whispers of a needy soul. Troubles don’t seem so bad after
spoken in her ears.

Her voice carries over all other sounds. Her cries bring earthquakes home.
Her laugh perfumes the rooms with happiness.

Her presence fills the room with security.

There is no wonder like a mother.

Henry Hazard (5-4-93 revised 5-9-95)

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