A Tribute to All Mothers
Dear Valued Client,
A Tribute to All Mothers
This is a tribute for the mothers who sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing a crying baby.
For all the mothers who ran carpools, made cookies, and sewed Halloween costumes.
This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections were left hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, “Did you see me, Mom?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.
This is for all the mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And then read it again. “Just one more time!”
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school.
And for all the mothers who made sure their sons could cook and their daughters could sink a jump shot.
This is for every mother whose head turned automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd; even though they knew their own children are at home—or even away at college.
This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.
This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman’s child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love ... sometimes totally unappreciated!
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bled when their 14-year-old daughter dyed her hair green.
This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful and later prayed they come home safely from a war.
What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Knowledge?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt—all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache she felt when she watched her son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?
Or is it the jolt that took her from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put her hand on the back of a sleeping baby to assure her they were still alive? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M., when she just wanted to hear the key in the door and know they were safe again in their home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation; and mature mothers learning to let go; for working mothers and stay-at-home mothers; single mothers and married mothers; and those mothers who are experiencing it all over again with their grandchildren.
Please take time to give tribute to your mom and all moms alike. This is for all of them.
David M. Gallagher