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Sunday grace

Thank You God for our mothers.  mother3

Becoming a mother is an extraordinary experience.  It is the best of jobs and the hardest of jobs.  And sometimes it is the most heart-wrenching.

Motherhood is a life sentence. You never get over it and you don’t get a parole. Heart strings are permanently attached to the child no matter how old she gets or how far away he roams.

Mothers bend over to wipe snotty noses. They stand up and cheer at every achievement. They kneel to pray on the first day of school, over a new drivers’ licenses, at the first date, and when the prodigal is far from the fold.

Mothers never give up. They keep fighting for the needs their children. They keep loving. They keep believing for the best. They keep praying.

Mothering takes on different roles and comes in a variety of shapes. Aunt, neighbor, step-parent, friend, teacher, mentor.  God made women to be nurturers to show the world what He is like. His tender devotion, His patience, His faithfulness.

Mothers work long and hard.  They get tired. But they never tire of hearing, “I love you.”

Someone is waiting to hear those words today.

Sunday grace.

THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE IS
    THE HAND THAT RULES THE WORLD.

      Blessings on the hand of women!
        Angels guard its strength and grace.
      In the palace, cottage, hovel,
          Oh, no matter where the place;
      Would that never storms assailed it,
          Rainbows ever gently curled,
      For the hand that rocks the cradle
          Is the hand that rules the world.

William Ross Wallace (1819-1881)

Sunday Grace for the mothers

For the mothers who labor in pain to birth a child, no matter if it comes through a birthing room or an adoption proceeding.

For the mothers who lose sleep and lose car keys and lose themselves sometimes because of their children.

For the mothers who change diapers, change dirty clothes, change schedules, change their lives to do what’s best for the babies.

For the mothers who fix the same cereal, who read the same story every night, and who pick up the same toys at end of day.

For the mothers who tuck in sleep heads and kneel to pray with tears of joy and intercession for the children who grow taller each day.

For the mothers who attend soccer games, boy scout events, recitals, school plays, graduations, and weddings.

For the mothers who open their hearts to children by law and call them their own.

To the mothers who welcome the lonely, the misunderstood, the broken, and the sinners like them.

For the mothers who give time to their grandchildren, their second generation and second chance at love.

For the mothers who never stop praying, never stop hoping, never stop believing, who never, ever give up.

For the mothers who care for their own mothers as they age and grow feeble.

For the mothers, God’s gift to children.  And the world.  We love you.

Sunday grace, friends.

 mother3

Bill and me, pregnant 1973

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The 3 grands.2JPG