If the whole world were put into one scale, and my mother in the other, the whole world would kick the beam. – Lord Langdale (Henry Bickersteth)
We all began this grand journey from looking into her eyes, tumbling in her arms, and learning the wor(l)ds from her lips.
Perhaps, not all of us are blessed with compassionate mothers who hold us in their embrace, and teach us all we know in their native tongues, by their knees or on their laps. Even so, we all have our moments when we are touched by a selflessly-giving mortal, who thinks of our interest well before the moment arrives, and to whose arms and wise counsel we can always return to whenever in need of quiet repose.
Yes, I am thankful for my mother. For all I know, love and am. I know that none compares to her sacrifices, knowledge and love – and perhaps, to hold dear her presence, might be a good beginning.
Quite a lot of us grow up to adore our mothers silently, and perhaps, it’s time to make it known to her? Take time out to say you love her for everything she taught, did, and lived for you.
For every birthday you celebrate, for every joy that comes your way, for being there from the beginning. They needn’t be superwomen (exalted or idolised by our expectations of them), or infallible, or ever-aggreable to our endless wants of the world even as we grow older. They just need to be – our mothers. That would suffice, really.
For Mothers, who rock!
