Mom’s love always enduring

The sacrificial love of mothers goes beyond all human understanding. She can be mistreated, ignored, rejected or taken for granted, yet she still loves her child.

Mothers think their child is the prettiest, smartest and dearest in all the world.

Mothers are like that.

Who else but a mother is up all night rocking a colicky baby?

Who else eats what’s left in the baby food jar?

Who awakens with a start and dashes to the baby’s room at 2 a.m. only to find the baby sleeping peacefully?

Who gets excited when her baby takes his or her first step?

Who turns her head in a crowd when a voice shouts “Mom”?

Who else can quote the story of “Peter Cottontail” without reading it?

Who feels a tug in her heart when leaving her child on the first day of school?

Who finds an extra body in bed in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm?

Who paces the floor when that teenager is not home on time or when he or she has just received a driver’s license?

Who feels that dull ache in the heart when peeping at her son or daughter sleeping the night before he or she leaves for college?

Someone has said, “Home is what catches you when you fall.”

Moms are the children’s first teacher, and she has a great influence on her treasures.

Abraham Lincoln called his mother “my angel mother,” and he honored her dearly.

A story has been told about Winston Churchill and his feelings toward his mother. When a newsman asked him to complete a survey on the great influence of teachers upon his life, Winston Churchill looked it over and replied, “You have omitted to mention the greatest of my teachers … my mother!”

Have you ever noticed a celebrity on TV? Many say, “Hi, Mom!” I like that. I think the person is honoring his or her mom.

A mother’s love is always listening for that phone call, card, letter or e-mail. A mother’s love is always there, hoping to see her now-grown child often, and sometimes she has to wait a long time.

Memories of my mother come to mind for so many things … a special doll with a dress and blanket made by hand … a special dress she made for me. The crusty piping hot rolls every Sunday with lots of butter and jam … the baby-sitting so I could go to college.

Mothers are the first to be in our lives and the last to leave.

My mother made her heavenly flight many years ago, but every Mother’s Day, I reread my poem for her:

To My Mother

Of all the mothers in this world

There’s no one just like you,

I love you more than I can say

And you’re my hero too.

Your kisses tucked me into bed.

Your patience dried my tears.

How the memories fill my heart

Of loving bygone years.

You held me close and loved me.

You helped make things all right.

For all the love you’ve given me

You’re precious in my sight.

If I could live a thousand years

Still grateful I would be

To have you for my mother

For you mean so much to me.