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MOTHER'S PRAYERS

STORY: MOTHER'S LOVE BURNS BRIGHT


Celebrating Motherhood
by Betty J. Eadie

M
y warmest wishes on Mother’s Day to all women. As a co-creator with God and Mother Earth, a mother's direction is established and blessed. She is a Spiritual Leader to her children, and her nurturing love is an essential part of God’s divine plan for them and for her. As she connects fully to this important role and responsibility, she can rise up to achieve its highest potential, which is a growth that leads into the eternities, where she will evolve higher still.
Our homes and our families are our most sacred and treasured gifts. It is my firm belief that women are in the most advantageous position to make a difference in the sacred lives of their children. As a woman of wisdom, a mother’s godly example benefits her children to further their own growth. Children hunger for the love they once experienced while in heaven, and they look to their mothers for that love. Love is the most vital emotion for them, particularly in their formative years, and their mother is its foundation. From their earliest days, even while in the womb, children form their perceptions and understanding of the world according to their mother's perceptions and understanding. By her words and actions a mother sets the stage. For her children she is the first source of tender love -- or of bitter resentment, if she lacks it. Whether her children are of her own flesh or are those she undertakes to raise or to teach, they will hold to her direction, to her path, even until they complete the cycle and influence their own children. In this way, a mother's example ripples forward through future generations to come. But she influences more than her own posterity. A mother who teaches high standards and principles in her home will raise leaders who will advance the eternal progression of all God's children.
I quite often hear from women who feel saddened by guilt that they have not been the godly mothers they might have been to their children. If truth were known, all mothers have had these same feelings. But it is never too late for a woman to become a better mother and demonstrate her spiritual growth within her commitments to God. Even a mother of grown children can use her love and her tender example to influence her offspring. And the angels in Heaven are always quick to aid a humble mother who tries.
Mother’s Day is also a good time to reflect on all womanhood and to view the role of the female more clearly. My father used to say that it took many good women to make one good man. That made little sense to me in my youth, but now I see the wisdom in his words. He said that, in just a single family, it takes at least five women to develop the full growth of a man: a grandmother, a mother, a wife, a daughter, and a granddaughter. I see this being fulfilled in my husband Joe each time he interacts with our granddaughters. They complete the cycle of his manhood, and he is becoming rich in his masculine role. Yes, I see the wisdom in my father’s words. It does take the many roles of the female to expand the life of every man!
To all women: I celebrate the strength of your femininity, the woman you have become, and the woman you are evolving into.

His Eternal Love and Blessings Always,
Betty

 
  Mother's Love Burns Bright
submitted by Stone Wallace

M
om had been in and out of the hospital for almost 2 years, suffering from various circulatory problems and other health issues. The first time she was admitted, she looked so bad that my sisters, brother and myself felt sure we were going to lose her. Fortunately, she rallied and was released from the hospital a few weeks later. I chose to stay with her at her seniors complex until she was well enough to be on her own.
It wasn't long after I'd returned to my own home that my sister called to tell me Mom had been re-admitted to St. Boniface, and was again in serious condition. Thus began a pattern of hospital admittances, periods of touch-and-go health scares, recoveries and releases. On November 4, 2000, I was called away from work by my sister who said that Mom had taken a turn for the worse.
When I arrived at the hospital, she certainly looked bad, but I'd seen her that way many times before. And so I left, figuring I'd let her rest and come by to see her the next day. Hardly had I arrived home when I was informed by my stepchildren that Mom had passed away—probably just minutes after I left the hospital.
Following her funeral, my sister Shelley and I began the task of cleaning out Mom's apartment. This took place over a couple of weekends. Finally all the clothes, furniture and other items were moved out and the suite thoroughly cleaned.
The last night we were there was an emotional one for both Shelley and me as we recalled all the happy hours we had enjoyed there in Mom's apartment. For some reason, before we left to hand in the keys to the landlord, Shelley decided to make one last check of the place, beginning with the kitchen cupboards, which we had previously emptied and thoroughly washed. I stood beside Shelley as she opened the cupboard door. We drew in our breath in surprise and disbelief at what we saw inside. It was definitely not there when we had emptied and cleaned those shelves. Sitting right in the center of the lower shelf, all by itself, was...
A sparkler.
It's appearnace there was a true yet simple miracle. Instantly we knew who had put it there. Mom always loved sitting out on her balcony on warm nights and lighting a sparkler. She found them magical, watching the sparks flash into momentary brilliance before extinguishing. Now it seemed so symbolic. A lifetime of giving—and in those later years, helping all 4 of her children through some very difficult times. Burdens that in her golden years she should not have had to endure. But she never once turned any of us away, even though we all were adults with families of our own. Before fading from sight, Mom's life had showered us with brilliant shining sparks of love and of selfless giving.
In those moments, viewing that sparkler on the shelf, it seemed another of her sweet and simple gifts to us. We knew exactly what to do. Shelley and I went out onto the balcony in that cold November night and lit a match to Mom's simple gift. As the sparkler crackled and its starburst effect illuminated the night, we both cried.
Finally after enjoying those magical moments, we watched as the sparkler burned itself out. Shelley and I knew that by leaving us this final gift, Mom was saying that however much we missed her, she was all right, and she wanted her children to be the same.
 

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