Sandra, my best friend, told me one lonely night when we were both missing our absent mothers,
"An ounce of mother is worth a ton of priest."
To me, mothers share a lot in common with farmers.
Like farmers, they toil every day. They sow seeds without a promise of a sure harvest.
Under the most harsh conditions, they till the soil, pull weeds, and prune where they believe it is needed.
With no promise of a certain return or a good harvest for all their labor, they work on.
What did my own mother often tell me? "Mothers hold their children's hands for only a short time -- but their hearts forever."
And for all their efforts, their loving kindnesses, their reluctant punishments --
they tend to slowly fade into the shadows, hidden from the spotlight of their children's ever-growing focus upon themselves, their wants, their lives.
Mothers often grow ghost-like even in the eyes of their husbands, chained to the demands of job, bills, and a vitality that is frighteningly leaving them.
For all you mothers out there who feel they are slowly becoming invisible, unappreciated, and alone. Here is a video I borrowed from Kimberly Job's lovely blog, SCRIBBLED SCRAPS : http://scribbledscraps.blogspot.com/
39 minutes ago