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