Grateful Mama

Being a mother is amazing- and incomparable to anything else.  A window is opened to your heart and your soul is infused with sunshine.  Everything good in life is amplified by being a mother.  Of course, so is heartache and worry.  You simply FEEL, All. THE. TIME.  

It's an amazing journey.  It seems only yesterday I was constantly carrying a baby on my hip, nursing and changing diapers, tucking little ones in bed, reading stories and settling disputes.  Dishes and laundry were always behind, meals being prepared endlessly.  There were tears to dry, noses to wipe, boo boos to kiss, soft hair to stroke, stories to hear.  The busyness was real but the BEAUTY of it all-encompassing.

They don't stay, those babies and children.  How many countless hours did I rock and cuddle my sweet children?  How many meals did I prepare, baths did I draw, lessons did I teach, cheeks did I smooch? 

 Holding  wriggling, towel wrapped toddlers fresh from a bath, rubbing their hair dry then folding back the towel to see shining eyes smiling at me.

Listening to their exciting stories, eyes shining, hands gesturing...me inserting helpful words when they can't get them out quickly enough and their exasperation is high.  Huge grins when they know that I get them, and understand exactly what they're trying to say. 

Kind, precious moments when my young children have gathered together to do something extra nice for me.  Purchasing me a pretty tea towel with their own money so I can have one to hang from the bar on the kitchen stove like Mrs. So-and-so has.  (Because ours were all rather shabby.)

Taking my hand and guiding me into the living room where they've prepared a mound of pillows with a hole in the center....for me to lay on face down, space for my pregnant belly in the center....for my massage.   The kids going to work like a NASCAR pit crew, each taking an arm or foot or back and getting to work. 

The dancing, singing, playing.....arguing, poking, teasing....was all simply grand!  There were times I wanted to pull my hair out to be sure, but that alive energy; that busy, bustling beauty of life was vibrating around me 24-7.   There's nothing like it.

               Babies Don't Keep                          
Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.


Author: Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Lioness at the Gate

Seeing a watchful, protective mama does my heart good.

Content copyright © 2016 by Jessa at Graceful Landing

 She allows her babies freedoms, while standing vigilant against dangers of the world.

 She's content in her motherhood, knows it's a most worthy calling in this life and takes her job both joyfully and seriously.  It's a beautiful thing.

"I have said lately that women are like lionesses at the gate of the home. Whatever happens in that home and family happens because she cares about it and it matters to her. She guards that gate, and things matter to that family if they matter to her."  ~Julie B. Beck

Happy Mother's Day!

Life doesn't come with a manual...it comes with a Mother.

Spiritually Thinking

Behold Thy Mother

 
 In honor of Mother's Day, I'd like to share excerpts from the talk, 'Behold Thy Mother' by Thomas S. Monson.
The talk, in its entirety, can be found here.
(Photos added)
 

"....One summer day I stood alone in the quiet of the American War Memorial Cemetery of the Philippines. A spirit of reverence filled the warm tropical air. Situated amidst the carefully mowed grass, acre upon acre, were markers identifying men, mostly young, who in battle gave their lives. As I let my eyes pass name by name along the many colonnades of honor, tears came easily and without embarrassment. As my eyes filled with tears, my heart swelled with pride. I contemplated the high price of liberty and the costly sacrifice many had been called upon to bear.

My thoughts turned from those who bravely served and gallantly died. There came to mind the grief-stricken mother of each fallen man as she held in her hand the news of her precious son’s supreme sacrifice. Who can measure a mother’s grief? Who can probe a mother’s love? Who can comprehend in its entirety the lofty role of a mother? With perfect trust in God, she walks, her hand in His, into the valley of the shadow of death, that you and I might come forth into light.

The holiest words my tongue can frame,

The noblest thoughts my soul can claim,

Unworthy are to praise the name

More precious than all other.

An infant, when her love first came,

A man, I find it still the same,

Reverently I breathe her name,

The blessed name of mother. 

In this spirit, let us consider mother. Four mothers come to mind: first, mother forgotten; second, mother remembered; third, mother blessed....."

Mother Forgotten

Millais, 'Grandmother's Apology', 1859

"....“Mother forgotten” is observed all too frequently. The nursing homes are crowded, the hospital beds are full, the days come and go—often the weeks and months pass—but mother is not visited. Can we not appreciate the pangs of loneliness, the yearnings of mother’s heart when hour after hour, alone in her age, she gazes out the window for the loved one who does not visit, the letter the postman does not bring? She listens for the knock that does not sound, the telephone that does not ring, the voice she does not hear. How does such a mother feel when her neighbor welcomes gladly the smile of a son, the hug of a daughter, the glad exclamation of a child, “Hello, Grandmother!”

There are yet other ways we forget mother. Whenever we fall, whenever we do less than we ought, in a very real way we forget mother.

I recall talking to the proprietress of a nursing home. From the hallway where we stood, she pointed to several elderly women assembled in a peaceful living room. She observed, “There’s Mrs. Hansen. Her daughter visits her every week, right at 3:00 P.M. on Sunday. To her right is Mrs. Peek. Each Wednesday there is a letter in her hands from her son in New York. It is read, then reread, then saved as a precious piece of treasure. But see Mrs. Carroll: her family never telephones, never writes, never visits. Patiently she justifies this neglect with words that are heard but do not convince or excuse: ‘They are all so busy.’”

Shame on all who thus make of a noble woman “mother forgotten.”

“Hearken unto thy father that begat thee,” wrote Solomon, “and despise not thy mother when she is old.”  Can we not make, of a mother forgotten, a mother remembered?"

Mother Remembered

"Men turn from evil and yield to their better natures when mother is remembered. A famed officer from the Civil War period, Colonel Higginson, when asked to name the incident of the Civil War that he considered the most remarkable for bravery, said that there was in his regiment a man whom everybody liked, a man who was brave and noble, who was pure in his daily life, absolutely free from dissipations in which most of the other men indulged.

One night at a champagne supper, when many were becoming intoxicated, someone in jest called for a toast from this young man. Colonel Higginson said that he arose, pale but with perfect self-control, and declared: “Gentlemen, I will give you a toast which you may drink as you will, but which I will drink in water. The toast that I have to give is, ‘Our mothers.’”

Instantly a strange spell seemed to come over all the tipsy men. They drank the toast in silence. There was no more laughter, no more song, and one by one they left the room. The lamp of memory had begun to burn, and the name of Mother touched every man’s heart.

As a boy, I well remember Sunday School on Mother’s Day. We would hand to each mother present a small potted plant and sit in silent reverie as Melvin Watson, a blind member, would stand by the piano and sing “That Wonderful Mother of Mine.” This was the first time I saw a blind man cry. Even today, in memory, I can see the moist tears move from those sightless eyes, then form tiny rivulets and course down his cheeks, falling finally upon the lapel of the suit he had never seen. In boyhood puzzlement I wondered why all the grown men were silent, why so many handkerchiefs came forth. Now I know: mother was remembered. Each boy, each girl, all fathers and husbands seemed to make a silent pledge, “I will remember that wonderful mother of mine.”

Some years ago I listened intently as a man well beyond middle age told me of an experience in his family history. The widowed mother who had given birth to him and his brothers and sisters had gone to her eternal and well-earned reward. The family assembled at the home and surrounded the large dining room table. The small metal box in which mother had kept her earthly treasures was opened reverently. One by one each keepsake was brought forth. There was the wedding certificate from the Salt Lake Temple. “Oh, now Mother can be with Dad.” Then there was the deed to the humble home where each child had in turn entered upon the stage of life. The appraised value of the house had little resemblance to the worth Mother had attached to it.

Then there was discovered a yellowed envelope that bore the marks of time. Carefully the flap was opened and from inside was taken a homemade valentine. Its simple message, in the handwriting of a child, read, “I love you, Mother.” Though she was gone, by what she held sacred mother taught yet another lesson. A silence permeated the room, and every member of the family made a pledge not only to remember, but also to honor mother."

Mother Blessed

 

"Now that we have considered “mother remembered,” let us turn to “mother blessed.” For one of the most beautiful and reverent examples, I refer to the holy scriptures.

In the New Testament of our Lord, perhaps we have no more moving account of “mother blessed” than the tender regard of the Master for the grieving widow at Nain.

“And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people.

“Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her.

“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.

“And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.

“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.” 

What power, what tenderness, what compassion did our Master and Exemplar thus demonstrate! We, too, can bless if we will but follow His noble example. Opportunities are everywhere. Needed are eyes to see the pitiable plight, ears to hear the silent pleadings of a broken heart, yes, and a soul filled with compassion, that we might communicate not only eye to eye or voice to ear, but in the majestic style of the Savior, even heart to heart. Then every mother everywhere will be “mother blessed.”....."

 (From 'Behold Thy Mother' by Thomas S. Monson, Ensign April 1998)

Motherhood

 

“There is no greater good in all the world than motherhood. The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation” 
~James E. Faust 

 

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!

I am so weary of toil and of tears, …

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,

Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you! …

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,

No love like mother-love ever has shone; …

None like a mother can charm away pain

From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.

Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;

Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!

~Elizabeth Ackers Allen

 

"Perhaps the reason we respond so universally to our mothers’ love is because it typifies the love of our Savior."

~Bradley D. Foster 

 

My grandmother, Virginia, with her little sister.

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.  She never existed before.  The woman existed, but the mother, never.  A mother is something absolutely new.  ~Rajneesh

My Grandmother, Virginia (center) with some of her family.

My great-great-great-grandmother, Charlotte

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
~William Shakespeare

My great-great grandmother, Susan

When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts.  A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.  
~Sophia Loren, Women and Beauty

My great-grandmother, Florence (on right)

I love my mother as the trees love water and sunshine - she helps me grow, prosper, and reach great heights.  ~Terri Guillemets

My mother, on right

My mother, with me

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.  ~Washington Irving

My grandmother, Faye, next to her mother, Ruth

.

  

I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me.  They have clung to me all my life.  ~Abraham Lincoln

 

My grandmother Faye, with me.

Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover,
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,
But only one mother the wide world over.
~George Cooper

With my little sister, who is also a mother

Who fed me from her gentle breast
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My Mother.
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My mother.
~Ann Taylor

With my own children, who have all made me a mother many times over, including my daughter who has made me a grandmother!

The mother's heart is the child's school-room.
  ~Henry Ward Beecher

In this group, the following mothers: myself, my sister, our mother, our step-mother and my mother-in-law, as well as my daughter who was expecting her first child.

My daughter, now a mother.

The holiest words my tongue can frame,

The noblest thoughts my soul can claim,

Unworthy are to praise the name

More precious than all other.

An infant, when her love first came,

A man, I find it still the same,

Reverently I breathe her name,

The blessed name of mother.
~George Griffith Fether 

Nothing in this life has brought me greater joy than being a mother. Nothing has taught me more patience and generosity, inspired me to learn and grow, and pushed me beyond my comfort levels.  I am forever a different, much improved person. (And still learning) 

I'm filled with gratitude for the mothers who came before; who shaped and cared for their families and paved the way for me.

Let us all cherish the mothers in our lives! 

Changing Roles

In a few short weeks, I will be a grandmother.

A grandmother!

When I was younger, I used to think that once I was in my thirties  I would come into my own.    I would be very wise, have my body whipped into shape, be loving and perfectly kind with amazing self control, and my home and children would be proof of it all. 

I recently realized that I still hold myself to those rather unrealistic expectations.

Although I've amassed a ton of knowledge in the areas of home and family, homeschooling and nutrition,  health and self worth; I cannot live perfectly.   And when I try and fail (often!) in my quest for perfection- I mentally beat myself up for it.   

If I have all of this knowledge...why can't I live it completely at all times?  And because I have this knowledge, my inner self wants to live a higher, better law.   My spirit expects more than my human frailties can deliver.

My human frailties....something I must not forget are a given in this life.

Only One was truly perfect.  Only He.

 
I must remind myself often  that I can only do my very best.   And that is truly enough.
That it's okay to be imperfect, that I can repent when I make mistakes. 

To remember that I am unique....and I should not be comparing myself to others only to feel I come up short.  (Because I do that a lot.)


My beloved children were sent to me.  No one else.
I must be worthy on some level  in the eyes of God to be entrusted with such a sacred responsibility.
And God surely has a sense of humor if he sends these wonderful beings to us amidst the messiness of life: diapers and spit up, hard little baby heads whacking us in the face,  snotty noses and tantrums. 




Here am I: a spiritual being having a human experience.

And what an experience!  I have learned so much as a daughter, sister, wife and mother....and the learning continues daily.

What a privelege it is to have a turn on this earth.  

My next life privelege is the role of grandmother.

I have begun to realize the freedoms being a grandmother allows me. 
I can be fun and creative, a little crazy and eccentric.   Things my own children enjoy to a point- until they become young teens.  : )

Grandmothers don't have to have teenage bodies- they're actually much nicer to hug when a little soft and squishy.  Little children accept you just as you are.


I think of my own grandmother, who is still a major influence in my life.   She had so much fun with us and her home became our Wonderland.   She is my role model.

 I can't wait to see what kind of grandma I become!  

Here are two great poems I love- and although I'm nowhere near an 'old lady' they give me food for thought.  : )



When I'm an Old Lady

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with each kid,
And bring so much happiness... just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they've provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited!
When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.

I'll write on the walls with reds, whites and blues,
And I'll bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout!
When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.

When they're on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,
When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.

When they cook dinner and call me to eat,
I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
And when they get angry... I'll run if I'm able!
When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.

I'll sit close to the TV, through channels I'll click,
I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I'll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud 'til the end of the day!
When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.

And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,
I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan, "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!"

Author Unknown

Warning

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When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick flowers in other people's gardens And learn to spit. You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat And eat three pounds of sausages at a go Or only bread and pickle for a week And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry And pay our rent and not swear in the street And set a good example for the children. We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

 Jenny Joseph

A Tribute to Mothers

The month of May celebrates mothers everywhere.

I would like to celebrate a few mothers- my own and those who have helped to create and shape our family.



My Grandmother, Faye Emeryl-
(Who will be 80 years young this Fall!)

                    (At age 15, taken at a carnival and carried in my grandfather's wallet for 43 years)

                                                              (with my brother)

                                                (With her sister)

She is one creative lady.    A wonderful artist, her drawings and paintings are coveted within our family.    When we were young, she would get down on our level and play with us, involve us in her projects and encourage us to use our imaginations.  A few fun memories from her house:
She had Grandpa build a playhouse , including a sink with running water and also mow the back field into a maze for us to explore.

She had numerous fish ponds and every afterno0n at 4pm, we'd help her feed them.

She would set up easels and canvas and get out her paints , teaching us techniques- but always encouraging us to find our own art style.

Our lunches were made in 'fairy' fashion.  Sandwiches cut into teeny tiny wedges , everything done in miniature and served on tiny little plates. 

We would help her weed and cultivate her enormous gardens.  If she had to use the bathroom, she would ask one of us kids if we could please run to the house for her and go potty so she wouldn't have to stop working. 
  I can still see her, her house dress (her summer garden attire) tucked up so her legs were unhampered, hoeing in the garden.  She also engaged in races with us and could outrun even my older brother, who prided himself on his swiftness.

An avid animal lover, she rescued numerous dogs and cats (even a crow, once) and taught us to be loving and  caring  towards all creatures.    She also taught us to always use our manners and not scream bloody murder.   For some reason those shrill screams set her teeth on edge and made her heart race.  Go figure.  : )

She is a wonderful grandma, and I'm so very thankful for her!



My paternal Grandmother, Virginia Ruth.

This is the only picture I have of her on my computer, or I'd post more.
A beautiful, elegant lady, educated at a teacher's college, oldest of three girls.  
My memories of her:
Visiting her home or apartment, playing with her collection of Barbie dolls.
She had lots of them- and a set of shelves that we used and set up as rooms for the dolls.


The weekend I was allowed to spend with her- all by myself.  She never drove (neither of my grandmothers ever had their license) so we walked down to the shopping center.  She purchased a toy for me and it was one of my most cherished possessions.   I so loved that weekend with her.
She always offered us vanilla ice cream and soda when we visited her house.   It seemed to us as if she magically never ran out.

She was often tired- she worked long hours up until her death- and it was  quite normal for her to fall asleep once she sat down.  Many times, while Mom was visiting with her, Mom would quietly tell us it was time to go so Grandma could get some rest.    My mother admired her greatly.

Every year she would bring my sister and I new flannel nightgowns- always blue for me and pink for her.
Another tradition of hers: My sister and I have birthdays only three days apart.  Often, we would celebrate them together and usually the party would fall on my day- as we were too excited to wait longer.   (I think that was why.)  However, on the day of Sarah's birthday, she would always arrive; having baked a cherry chip cake with cherry frosting for her.   
I can never think of that type of cake without thinking of Grandma.  


How I wish I could have known her as a grown woman- to have spent more time with her.
 




 My Madre, Terry Lee :

Another creative, amazing woman.  Beautiful, smart, adventurous.
She is always thinking  'outside the box', and is rarely found in 'the box'.  

Stubborn in her own way- but only because she wants to be herself; unhampered by rules and regulations, free to make her own choices.  

Some of my memories:
Quiet, sweet and noble as a young mother.   In church, I would see other little children look her way.  She would wink at them and they would blush and smile back.   It made me feel pangs of both jealousy and pride.  Jealousy that my mother was showering some of her wonderful person on someone other than myself or siblings, and pride that those other kids liked her as much as I did.  
Her singing.  Singing folk songs and pop music, songs she made up or Gaelic music she was learning.   Singing while she cooked, while she sewed, cleaned or rocked babies.  Singing while she drove, tapping her wedding ring on the steering wheel in time to the beat.   Music was  and still is,  a huge part of her existence.  
Babies.  I have so many memories of her caring for her babies.  Always gentle, always thinking of their needs/feelings.  Teaching me to carefully handle their little bodies; to be sure their little arms were just so , their bodies kept warm but not too warm.  Reminding me that babies on the floor are going to be colder than an adult standing up, that their little feet need to be free from heavy shoes- that shoes in general aren't good for their feet and legs.    
To not leave babies lying in one position for too long or sitting in  a seat.  Always to think of their comfort and how I would feel if I were them.    Too many considerations to list here!

What I admire most is that she thought for herself when it came to child-rearing.  Not one to listen to 'experts' of that time, she read widely and chose for herself what felt right and good.  In a time when Wonder bread and Lucky Charms were on the tables of many households and begged for by her own children, she served us only wholesome, real food.  

Hungry for a snack before dinner?  Here's a carrot.   Hungry for breakfast?  Here's some oatmeal.    Wanting a treat?  Here are some homemade carrot or oatmeal cookies with whole wheat flour, freshly ground from her wheat grinder.     Bored?  Get outdoors and play- or you can help inside with housework.    Cold?  Get moving and stop sitting around.   
Get the windows open and let fresh air inside, hang the laundry outdoors to absorb air and sunshine, get the kids outdoors to absorb the same. 

Children and teens: I have admired her ability to recognize when a  child needs less structure and more freedoms.   Motherhood is a balance between teaching and training and knowing when to let go.   She was very good at that.    I loved the freedoms I had as a child- she was not one to micro-manage, although there were still expectations to be met.  


Cheerfulness:  She taught us by example to not frown or pout, but to have a positive outlook on life.  She found the good in everything and taught us to laugh off life's down swings.  She rarely raised her voice, was patient when we made mistakes, and above all, we always knew we were loved.
My own vision of our home in my childhood is one of bright, airy, clean spaces,  warmth, wholesome food , very little television but lots of music, and tons of outdoor time.
In later years, when she was working and we were fending more for ourselves, a lot of that changed.  However, that image overrides the later years because of the strength and goodness therein.    So much of who I am comes from her early example.

                                           (With her Aunt)

                                    (With my younger brother)

                                           (My youngest brother  with my mother and mother-in-law)






My Mother-in-law, Joan Darline :

                                                          (With my son)

A woman full of kindness, acceptance and generosity.

I cannot tell you how much I admire her generous spirit.  So often you hear stories of mothers-in-law who look down on their sons' wives, who don't accept their grandchildren or don't approve in general.    

My own is wonderful.  She has always accepted and embraced me and even my entire extended family.   She is always ready and game to go along with whatever we are up to.

She has a wonderful adventurous spirit, is very self-sufficient and fearless.

She loves her grandchildren with all of her being and never forgets Christmases and birthdays.   
My husband remembers fondly her motherly love and hands-on care he received as a child.
She helped promote that soft kindness within him.  I am forever grateful for that!

                                  (with my children)

                                       (With two of her three sons)





My Step-Mother (AKA: T.O.M.- The Other Mother)  Muriel Jean :

                                                     (With my son)

Another generous, accepting, wonderful lady. 
She has always been there for us, helping and giving in any way that she can.  

Defying the typical stereo-type of a step-mother, she embraced us all as her own and did not harbor any ill feelings for past relationships.  
I have always admired that quality in her.   To embrace another's children and grandchildren completely and truly.   What a wonderful, Christ-like attribute.  

Another avid follower of health and nutrition, advocate for the less fortunate, and student of life; she reinforces those desires to always continue learning.  

                                        (with my oldest son)


A patient listener, she gives her best advice and takes the time to listen with real interest.
Traits that are rarely found in this busy world!

                                               (With my dad)

 
 

There are so many other mothers that I have admired, that have contributed to my ideals of mother hood. 

Too many to list and not enough pictures to show.

This is a tribute to them, as well, and to all mothers out there who are striving to be the best they can.   May you all find balance in life, seek out the good and hold on to it,  and know that your very presence and actions are shaping the lives of future generations.

May God bless you and yours!