"Big Four" Highlights


Blessed Be Mothers

By Brian Caulfield

What is a mother? Can we ever say enough of the woman who carried us from conception and was the one necessary person to be present at our birth?

She gave her very flesh and blood for us, and was our first object of love. In a unique way she taught us to love from the very milk she shed for us.

The least we can do is send her some flowers and chocolates on Mother’s Day (Sunday, May 8, you’ve been warned!), and give a visit or a phone call.

“Hi, Mom. Love you, Mom!”

To celebrate the day, here is a simple rhyme by English poet Ann Taylor (d. 1866):

My Mother

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

Please add your own words of appreciation for your mother in the Comment Box below.