A Salute To Mothers

 

A Salute To Mothers

     I know of no other calling which demands so much.  Twenty-four seven is the popular phrase now.  But it describes the job requirements totally.

     When I think of mothers, I think of labor and delivery.  Carrying the child nine months, inside!  The little one living off your body while still attached.  Dirty diapers.  Early a.m. feedings.  Cleaning puke off mattresses and floors.  Washing muddy clothes.  Breast feeding in public!  Possible mastitis.  Passing the placenta.  Braxton Hicks.  Cervix dilated to 9, ouch!  Choosing the right OTC med for the illness.  Corralling youngsters in the supermarket.  Dressing the little ones.  Carrying the car seat.  Buckling them in.  Listening to the whines.  Cooking meals.  Cleaning the table.  Washing dishes.  Smiling when your husband comes home.  Wincing when baby bites your teat.  Serving when you are sick.  Driving the family car.  Laughing at their antics.  Knowing when to swat.  Reading them stories.  Planning the day.  Planning the week.  Balancing the budget to buy them a toy.  Keeping them out of the dog food dish.  Carrying accessories in addition to the diaper bag.  Sitting in the doctor’s office.  Maintaining their shot records.  And on, and on…

     That’s mothers.  You are the ones caught between.  Typically, the father is quicker to strike as in settling an argument.  Mercy and grace reside with the one from which they were taken.  In other words, from your body they have come forth.  You feel a connection with them your husband will never know. 

     Motherly love thwarts the disintegration of society.  It is the bedrock upon which our institutions are built.  Without proper bonding, children grow wanton playing with violence in their relationships.  Motherhood christens vessels, launching them out into their potentials.  Without the champagne, crafts dry dock.

     I know of no other calling that reassures little ones that they are precious.  Thank you moms.

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