Happy Mother's Day to All Mothers

Virginia's mom holding newborn Ivy, other pic Charles' mom holding 8 month old Ivy.

So much goes into being a mother, mother's are definitely special. Being a mom is such a sacrifice as many times they will set aside their own wants in order to meet the needs of their children. Though at times it can also be heartbreaking, in my eyes, there is nothing more satisfying than this. No amount of money could replace that because "Motherhood" is priceless. I thank God everyday that He allowed me the gift of being a mother. Happy Mother's day on Sunday!

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with
sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with
Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's
okay honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end
soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with
spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses
and diapers in their purse.
For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies
and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who
DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies
they'll never see. And the mothers who took those
babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal
bleachers at football or soccer games instead of
watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when
their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could
say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the
world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in
the grocery store and swat them in despair when they
stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before
dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten
instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their
children and explained all about making babies. And
for all the mothers who wanted to, but just
couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their
children can eat. For all the mothers who read
"Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then
read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children
to tie their shoelaces before they started school.
And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to
cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns
automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a
crowd, even though they know their own offspring are
at home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to
school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be just
FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the
school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick
them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray,
who can't find the words to reach them.

This is for all the step-mothers who raised another
woman's child or children, and gave their time,
attention, and love... sometimes totally
unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school
shootings, and the mothers of those who did the
shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who
sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their
child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children
to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely
from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience?
Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a
button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in
her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your
son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to
school alone for the very first time? The jolt that
takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2
A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?
The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M.
when you just want to hear their key in the door and
know they are safe again in your home? Or the need to
flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you
hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our
thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through
diaper changes and sleep deprivation...
And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all.
For all of us.
Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.
Tell them every day that we love them.
And pray faithfully for them.