Sunday, May 13, 2007


By the time the Lord made mothers, he was into his sixth day of working overtime.
An Angel appeared and said "Why are you spending so much time on this one"?
And the Lord answered and said, "Have you seen the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have 200 movable parts, all replaceable, run on black coffee and leftovers, have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart, and have six pairs of hands."
The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No Way!", said the Angel.
The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem. It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"
"And that's just on the standard model?" the Angel asked.
The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head, are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."
The Angel tried to stop the Lord. "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."
"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she's sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower. "
The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."
"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."
"Will she be able to think?", asked the Angel.
The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."
The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak with this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."
"That's not a leak." The Lord objected. "That's a tear!"
"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.
The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."
The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything; for mothers are truly amazing!"
~by Erma Bombeck~
Best Friend

She is the best friend that I have; she's always there for me.
She is the perfect model of what, all good friends should be.

She always has a listening ear, and never any judgment.
Then always when I need it most, she has a compliment.

When my life is filled with doubt, she helps me look beyond.
The problems that I have today, and helps until they're gone.

There were a few times in the past, I felt I had betrayed.
Our one on one relationship, with choices I had made.

I know sometimes I hurt her, but she never let it known.
Her understanding gentle heart, is why our friendship's grown.

Unselfish in her attitude, unselfish with her time.
Unselfish in her love for me, this special friend of mine.

Many friends have come and gone, but this one always stays.
I guess she's learned to overcome, my temperamental ways.

She always makes me feel secure, when she is by my side.
I know whatever bothers me, in her I can confide.

I love the time we spend together, strengthening our bond.
Oh, by the way, this friend of mine happens to be my MOM.
Long Days

The buzzing of the clock awakes her and she rubs her eyes,
Morning always comes too soon when waken by surprise.
Trying to sort out her thoughts while sitting in the dark,
Whispering to herself a nasty bitter rude remark.

She had slept so soundly and did not want to awake,
How much longer could she do this? How much could she take?
She thought " I really have no choice" another day's begun
Another day when she would spend the whole day on the run.

She slowly gets up to her feet to see if they still work,
And feels a little pinch of pain that makes her body jerk.
She shuffles to the kitchen to the waiting coffee pot,
She needs her cup of coffee and today she needs a lot.

Mondays always seem to be the worst day of the week,
And today the sky is cloudy and it looks so bleak.
Passing by the mirror in the foyer where it hung,
She looks at it and makes a face and then sticks out her tongue.

Opening up the door for cream, she frowns there as she hunches,
Looking in the fridge, she had forgot to make the lunchs.
The kids will have to buy their lunch she just can't do it now,
But yesterday she had no cash so now she wonders how?

Before she makes her rounds today as she delivers them,
She'll have to stop off at the bank and use the ATM.
As long as she's not late for work and kids are all on time,
Everything should come off smooth and all will end up fine.

So with her coffee cup in hand she's off to start the race,
The first stop is the vanity where she puts on her face.
Then with that in place she slowly starts to fix her hair,
But as she does she notices her youngest standing there.

She always tries to finish and get dressed before they wake,
But on this day they're up already "oh for heaven's sake"
Go get dressed she says and tell the others make it quick,
You have to all eat breakfast, I don't want you getting sick.

So gathered at the table all are dressed and out of bed,
And she is clearing dishes as the troups are finally fed.
Now get your books and get your coats and do not make me wait,
I have to be to work on time and you cannot be late.

So to the ATM she goes and then delivery,
Dropping off each one of them to where they have to be.
Then she gets to work on time without a failing heart,
And someone has the nerve to say "let's give this day a start"

She smiles as she thinks to herself and maybe rightly so,
I have some news for you my friend I started hours ago.
A woman in the work place may appear as all the others,
And many may not know the long day of the working mothers.

As the work day closes out and going home is near.
For today the work is done at least the work that's here.
But the work is never finished for a working mother,
She just leaves one job behind while going to another.

Finished with her daytime job, the homework's now the rule,
And this is not the kind of homework that you had inschool.
Child care, cleaning, cooking, washing, shopping, all with love,
Never drawing any salary for the jobs above.

And when the day is ended and her jobs are all complete,
She may even find the time to now get off her feet.
Then when she sits and thinks of it she has this little grin,
If all goes well tomorrow she can do it all again.

So I for one salute you for your steadfast loyality,
The dedication to your job and to your family,
No matter if it's out of need or what your paycheck covers,
No one has a longer day than all the working mothers.
Beloved Mother

The tears were rolling down her cheeks as she stood there alone,
As she read "a beloved Mother" etched across the stone.
Ten months had passed since it was placed upon this piece of sod,
And also words etched on the stone said "she is now with God."

This Mother's Day will come and go and she won't celebrate,
So many things she would have said but now it is too late.
She should have told her Mother many things before she died,
But she had been too busy and she had not even tried.

She should have told her Mother when she thinks back through the years,
How she loved her childhood and how Mom dispelled the fears,
Of the childhood demons that when growing up appear.
How Mom was always there for her with every passing year.

She should have told her Mother she knew that she wasn't mean,
When that one time she had rebelled when she was just a teen.
She made it through her teenage years as children always do,
And now she knows and whisper's softly "Mom because of you."

As a young adult her Mother helped her find her way,
Encouragement and guidance with the words that she would say.
Never did she fault her when mistakes would come along,
She always said "just learn from them and see that they were wrong."

Another tear rolls down her cheek and drips without a choice,
If only she had one more chance to hear her Mother's voice.
To tell her that she loved her and the things she didn't say,
She should have said so many things before she went away.

She thinks about the Mother's Days gone by with just a token,
Token gifts were not enough now that her heart is broken.
She should have spent the entire day devoted to her Mother,
And laughed and reminisced the past and shared with one another.

But she had done her duty as so many others do,
Stopped to give a token gift before the day was through.
Rushing through her busy day and running out of hours,
Never taking time as said "to stop and smell the flowers."

Now she smells the flowers that she placed upon the ground,
But now she smells them all alone and does not hear a sound.
She whispers softly to her Mother hoping that she hears,
And says I love you mommy as she wipes away more tears.

I love you for the years you gave to love and nurture me,
I love you for the sacrifice you gave unselfishly.
I love you and I realize how much you loved me too,
I only wish this Mother's Day I could have spent with you.

If only I had one more chance but now it is too late,
On every Mother's Day I know I wouldn't hesitate,
To show you if for just one day a love that is sincere,
And also reinforce that love on each day of the year.

I know that many others race through life as I have done,
And never take the time to stop and thank that special one.
My only prayer today for those with mothers in their prime,
On this Mother's Day please let her know while there's still time.

A day will come when you will wish you had just one more day,
To tell her things you wanted too but never got to say.
So as for token gifts and such that you may get for her,
I know a hug and "I love you" is what she would prefer.

Don't let this life go racing by, and slow down if you must,
Worldly things don't mean a thing they only rot and rust.
Stop and smell the flowers and forget all of the strive,
And hug and tell that special woman "Thank you Mom for life."

Thursday, May 10, 2007



Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade,  seemingly unable to learn.  His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool,  and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of  his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy  just irritated his teacher.
One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered  the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs  in a special school.  It isn't fair to him to be with younger  children who don't have learning problems.  Why, there is a five  year gap between his age and that of the other students."

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke.  "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby.  It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we  had to take him out of this school.  We know he really likes it here." Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window.  Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul.  She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters.  After all, their only child had a terminal illness.  But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class.  She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction.  Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write.  Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her.   Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought.  Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy.  From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares.  Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, Doris' face turned red.  She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy.  N-now please, take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter.   Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each  of the children a large plastic egg.  "Now," she said to them "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with  something inside that shows new life.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically--all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face.   He did not even make his  usual noises. Had he understood what she said about Jesus'  death and resurrection?   Did he understand the assignment?  Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to  them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up.  She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come  by and unclog it.After that, she still had to shop for  groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the  next day.  She completely forgot about  phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the  large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk.  After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs.  In the first egg, Doris found a flower.  "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign  of new life," she said.  "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here."  A small girl in the first row waved her arm.  "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.
The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows  into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that's new life, too." Little  Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine."  Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the  classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg.  She gasped.  The egg was empty.  Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents.Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly,  Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my  egg?"  Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty."  He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb  was empty, too."

Time stopped.  When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was  empty?" "Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there.  Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang.  While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried.  The cold inside her melted completely away.
Three months later, Jeremy died.  Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty.