My Mother
    My mother,  she carried me under her heart,  loved me before I was born, took God’s hand and walked as through the “valley of the shadows” that I might live.
    She bathed me when I was helpless,  clothed me when I was naked, fed me when I was hungry,  rocked me to sleep when I was sick,  weary and broken hearted, read to me with the voice of an angel.
    She held my hand when I learned to walk,  suffered with me in sorrow,  loved me when i couldn’t love myself,  laughed with joy,  glowed with my triumphs,  and while I knelt at her side,  she taught me how to pray.

    She was a loyal friend when others failed me.  Through all the days of my weakness and tears,  she  gave me a listening ear,  and the courage for my despair and hope when my heart was hopeless.
    She prayed for  me whether the  day was flooded with sunshine or saddened by failures.
    I can never repay the debt I owe to my mother.
    Blessed is my mother.
    Who can hold onto her children while letting them go;  
    Who puts a tranquil home ahead of an immaculate house;
    Who knows a kind act will be remembered longer than an easy word.
    Who really believes that prayer changes thing:
    Whose faith in the future even after 90 years sweetens the present.
    Whose bible never needs dusting;
    Whose sense of humor is alive and well;  At her 90th, birthday I ask what is it like to be 90?  She said, “The only problem is all my friends think I am not coming to heaven.”
    Thank you Mother,  I need you and love you,  miss you, and am eternally grateful.
    Your Son Paul Leavens