MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning!"
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME RELIGION.
"You better pray that will come out of the carpet."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT TIME TRAVEL.
"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!"
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME LOGIC.
"Because I said so, that's why."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME FORESIGHT.
"Make sure you wear clean underwear in case you're in an accident."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME IRONY.
"Keep laughing and I'll give you something to cry about."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT THE SCIENCE OF OSMOSIS.
"Shut your mouth and eat your supper!"
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT CONTORTIONISM.
"Will you look at the dirt on the back of your neck."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT STAMINA.
"You'll sit there until all that spinach is finished."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT WEATHER.
"It looks as if a tornado swept through your room."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME HOW TO SOLVE PHYSICS PROBLEMS.
"If I yelled because I saw a meteor coming towards you, would you listen then?"
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT HYPOCRISY.
"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times - don't exaggerate!"
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME THE CIRCLE OF LIFE.
"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION.
"Stop acting like your father."
MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT ENVY.
"There are millions of less fortunate children in the world who don't have wonderful parents like you do."
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOTHER'S OUT THERE!
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
The Son
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"
There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"
Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!" A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD
HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON,
WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH,
SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...
THAT'S LOVE.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"
There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"
Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!" A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON,
WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH,
SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...
THAT'S LOVE.
A box full of kisses
The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy."
The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.
The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.
The Boy Who Had No Ears
"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.
When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks. He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "You might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a tenderness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured" the doctor decided. Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.
Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret", said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged.
His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" he urged his father. "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him."
"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know...not yet."
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come - one of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal a secret - that the mother had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"
Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what can be seen, but what cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what is done but not known.
Isn't a mother's love fantastic? Nobody knows all the sacrifices she makes.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!
Author unknown
I copied this article from this blog.
When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks. He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "You might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a tenderness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured" the doctor decided. Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.
Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret", said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged.
His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" he urged his father. "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him."
"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know...not yet."
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come - one of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal a secret - that the mother had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"
Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what can be seen, but what cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what is done but not known.
Isn't a mother's love fantastic? Nobody knows all the sacrifices she makes.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!
Author unknown
I copied this article from this blog.
Just for
Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my finger through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.
I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you good night I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except one more day.
Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.
Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.
Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.
Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.
Just for this evening when I run my finger through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.
I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.
And when I kiss you good night I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except one more day.
Lord, Help me Build a Healthy Child
For it is easier to build a child then to repair an adult.
Help me praise more than criticize, encourage more than nag,
Discipline, not punish, and model good behavior
Rather than simple demand it.
Help me break the habit of automatically saying "no",
When I could just as easily say "yes" and to remember
a hug given before it's asked for is ten times more valuable!
Help me ask myself, "Will this matter in 20 years"
Then enable me to let go of those things that won't,
so I can have the energy for those things that will.
Help me earn their respect as I lead life consistent
with the principles I value. Lord, give me the courage
to teach them right from wrong
and help them discover their own special destinies.
Help me to freely join in their silliness, share in their laughter,
delight in their joys and keep their confidences.
Remind me daily to draw upon your strength
to heal thier wounds and comfort their sorrows.
Most of all, Lord, help me really listen for the hidden thoughts
and needs that often lie behind their requests
and give me the key to their heart
that is may be opened wide to all life's wonders and possibilities.
Author: Audrey Jeanne Roberts
Help me praise more than criticize, encourage more than nag,
Discipline, not punish, and model good behavior
Rather than simple demand it.
Help me break the habit of automatically saying "no",
When I could just as easily say "yes" and to remember
a hug given before it's asked for is ten times more valuable!
Help me ask myself, "Will this matter in 20 years"
Then enable me to let go of those things that won't,
so I can have the energy for those things that will.
Help me earn their respect as I lead life consistent
with the principles I value. Lord, give me the courage
to teach them right from wrong
and help them discover their own special destinies.
Help me to freely join in their silliness, share in their laughter,
delight in their joys and keep their confidences.
Remind me daily to draw upon your strength
to heal thier wounds and comfort their sorrows.
Most of all, Lord, help me really listen for the hidden thoughts
and needs that often lie behind their requests
and give me the key to their heart
that is may be opened wide to all life's wonders and possibilities.
Author: Audrey Jeanne Roberts
The Parents' Affirmation of Imperfection
It's perfectly okay for me to be imperfect.
This includes not being a perfect parent.
This means that it's okay that I have already made a lot of mistakes as a parent
and that it's okay that I will make other mistakes in the future.
What's not okay is for me to pretend
that I am perfect and to thereby hide my mistakes from myself.
Instead I will catch my mistakes with a smile rather than a kick
and learn what they have to teach me.
That way, I won't make the same mistakes too often,
and I'll never be a perfect parent and that's okay,
because my goal is excellence, not perfection.
Author unknown
This includes not being a perfect parent.
This means that it's okay that I have already made a lot of mistakes as a parent
and that it's okay that I will make other mistakes in the future.
What's not okay is for me to pretend
that I am perfect and to thereby hide my mistakes from myself.
Instead I will catch my mistakes with a smile rather than a kick
and learn what they have to teach me.
That way, I won't make the same mistakes too often,
and I'll never be a perfect parent and that's okay,
because my goal is excellence, not perfection.
Author unknown
10 Commandments for Parents
- I will appreciate my children for who they are, not for who I want them to be.
- I will relate to each child as an individual, instead of as "the kid".
- I will take good care of myself as a person, and not live my life through my children.
- I will acknowledge each and every little acceptable behavior, not just the "biggies".
- I will give my children as many "facts" as I am able, and trust them to weigh these facts and make responsible decisions.
- I will not allow my children to use or abuse me, for I know this will damage them.
- Knowing that my children are on a short-term loan to me, I will introduce them to every possible responsibility, so that they won't be too shocked at "independence".
- I will let my children know that I love them unconditionally, whether I like their decisions or not.
- I will allow my children to face the consequences of their own actions and not constantly protect them, as I know I will want to do so.
- I will feel successful when I am no longer needed as a parent.
Please also read: A child's 10 commandments to parents!
I loved you enough
Some day when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I will tell them:
I loved you enough
to ask you about where you are going, with whom,
and what time you would get home.
I loved you enough
to insist that you buy a bike that we could afford to give you,
with your own money.
I loved you enough
to be silent and let you discover that your hand-picked friend was a creep.
I loved you enough
to make you return a Milky-Way, with a bite out of it,
to a drug store and tell them you stole this.
I loved you enough
to stand over you for 2 hours while you cleaned your room,
a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.
I loved you enough
to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust and tears in my eyes.
I loved you enough
to admit I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.
I loved you enough
to let you stumble, fall and hurt.
I loved you enough
to let you assume the responsibility for your actions at 6, 10 or 16.
But most of all,
I loved you enough to say NO, when you hated me for it.
That was the hardest part of all.
I loved you enough
to ask you about where you are going, with whom,
and what time you would get home.
I loved you enough
to insist that you buy a bike that we could afford to give you,
with your own money.
I loved you enough
to be silent and let you discover that your hand-picked friend was a creep.
I loved you enough
to make you return a Milky-Way, with a bite out of it,
to a drug store and tell them you stole this.
I loved you enough
to stand over you for 2 hours while you cleaned your room,
a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.
I loved you enough
to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust and tears in my eyes.
I loved you enough
to admit I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.
I loved you enough
to let you stumble, fall and hurt.
I loved you enough
to let you assume the responsibility for your actions at 6, 10 or 16.
But most of all,
I loved you enough to say NO, when you hated me for it.
That was the hardest part of all.
The Phone Call
We all know what it's like to get that phone call in the middle of the night. This night's call was no different. Jerking up to the ringing summons, I focused on the red illuminated numbers of my clock. Midnight. Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?"
My heart pounded; I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed.
"Mama?"
I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter. When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clearer on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist.
"Mama, I know it's late, but don't...don't say anything, until I finish. And before you ask, yes, I've been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back, and..."
I drew in a sharp shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasn't right.
"And I got so scared. All I could think about was how it would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said I'd been killed. I want...to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know you've been worried sick. I should have called you days ago, but I was afraid...afraid..."
Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I pictured my daughter's face in my mind and my fogged senses seemed to clear.
"I think--"
"No! Please let me finish! Please!" She pleaded, not so much in anger but in desperation. I paused and tried to think of what to say. Before I could go on, she continued, "I'm pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn't be drinking now...especially now, but I'm scared, Mama. So scared!" The voice broke again and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked at my husband who sat silently mouthing, "Who is it?" I shook my head and when I didn't answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with the portable phone held to his ear.
She must have heard the click in the line because she continued, "Are you still there? Please don't hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone." I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance.
"I'm here,I wouldn't hang up," I said.
"I know I should have told you, Mama. But when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don't listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren't important. Because you're my mother, you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I don't need answers. I just want someone to listen."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk- to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my night stand. "I'm listening," I whispered.
"You know, back there on the road, after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I could hear you preaching about people shouldn't drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home."
"That's good, Honey," I said as relief filled my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine. I knew from his touch that he thought I was doing and saying the right thing.
"But you know, I think I can drive now."
"No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened, and I tightened the clasp on my husband's hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Don't hang up on me until the taxi gets there."
"I just want to come home, Mama."
"I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please." I listened to the silence in fear. When I didn't hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving.
"There's the taxi, now."
Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.
"I'm coming home, Mama."
There was a click and the phone went silent. Moving from the bed with tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my sixteen-year-old daughter's room. The dark silence hung thick. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We have to learn to listen," I said. He pulled me around to face him. "We'll learn. You'll see."
Then he took me into his arms, and I buried my head in his shoulder. I let him hold me for several moments, then I pulled back and stared back at the bed. He studied me for a second, then asked, "Do you think she'll ever know she dialed the wrong number?" I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him. "Maybe it wasn't such a wrong number."
"Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled young voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the darkness.
"We're practicing," I answered.
"Practicing what?" she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, her eyes already closed in slumber.
"Listening," I whispered, and brushed a hand over her cheek.
I wrote your name on a piece of paper, but by accident I threw it away. I wrote your name on my hand, but it washed away. I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves whispered it away. I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay.
"Hello?"
My heart pounded; I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed.
"Mama?"
I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter. When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clearer on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist.
"Mama, I know it's late, but don't...don't say anything, until I finish. And before you ask, yes, I've been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back, and..."
I drew in a sharp shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasn't right.
"And I got so scared. All I could think about was how it would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said I'd been killed. I want...to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know you've been worried sick. I should have called you days ago, but I was afraid...afraid..."
Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I pictured my daughter's face in my mind and my fogged senses seemed to clear.
"I think--"
"No! Please let me finish! Please!" She pleaded, not so much in anger but in desperation. I paused and tried to think of what to say. Before I could go on, she continued, "I'm pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn't be drinking now...especially now, but I'm scared, Mama. So scared!" The voice broke again and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked at my husband who sat silently mouthing, "Who is it?" I shook my head and when I didn't answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with the portable phone held to his ear.
She must have heard the click in the line because she continued, "Are you still there? Please don't hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone." I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance.
"I'm here,I wouldn't hang up," I said.
"I know I should have told you, Mama. But when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don't listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren't important. Because you're my mother, you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I don't need answers. I just want someone to listen."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk- to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my night stand. "I'm listening," I whispered.
"You know, back there on the road, after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I could hear you preaching about people shouldn't drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home."
"That's good, Honey," I said as relief filled my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine. I knew from his touch that he thought I was doing and saying the right thing.
"But you know, I think I can drive now."
"No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened, and I tightened the clasp on my husband's hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Don't hang up on me until the taxi gets there."
"I just want to come home, Mama."
"I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please." I listened to the silence in fear. When I didn't hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving.
"There's the taxi, now."
Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.
"I'm coming home, Mama."
There was a click and the phone went silent. Moving from the bed with tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my sixteen-year-old daughter's room. The dark silence hung thick. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We have to learn to listen," I said. He pulled me around to face him. "We'll learn. You'll see."
Then he took me into his arms, and I buried my head in his shoulder. I let him hold me for several moments, then I pulled back and stared back at the bed. He studied me for a second, then asked, "Do you think she'll ever know she dialed the wrong number?" I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him. "Maybe it wasn't such a wrong number."
"Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled young voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the darkness.
"We're practicing," I answered.
"Practicing what?" she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, her eyes already closed in slumber.
"Listening," I whispered, and brushed a hand over her cheek.
I wrote your name on a piece of paper, but by accident I threw it away. I wrote your name on my hand, but it washed away. I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves whispered it away. I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay.
Paid in Full
A man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted.
As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had purchased the car.
Finally, on the morning of his graduation his father called him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son and told him how much he loved him.
He handed his son a beautifully wrapped gift box.
Curious, but somewhat disappointed the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible. Angrily, he raised his voice at his father and said, "With all your money you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the holy book.
He never contacted his father again for long, long time. Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and a wonderful family.
Realizing his father was very old, he thought perhaps he should go to see him. He had not seen him since that graduation day.
Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away and had willed all his possessions to his son.
He needed to come home immediately and take care of things. When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart. He began to search his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago.
With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. As he read those words, a car key dropped from an envelope taped behind the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired.
On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words ...
PAID IN FULL.
How many times do we miss GOD's blessings because they are not packaged as we expected?
As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had purchased the car.
Finally, on the morning of his graduation his father called him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son and told him how much he loved him.
He handed his son a beautifully wrapped gift box.
Curious, but somewhat disappointed the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible. Angrily, he raised his voice at his father and said, "With all your money you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the holy book.
He never contacted his father again for long, long time. Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and a wonderful family.
Realizing his father was very old, he thought perhaps he should go to see him. He had not seen him since that graduation day.
Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away and had willed all his possessions to his son.
He needed to come home immediately and take care of things. When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart. He began to search his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago.
With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. As he read those words, a car key dropped from an envelope taped behind the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired.
On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words ...
PAID IN FULL.
How many times do we miss GOD's blessings because they are not packaged as we expected?
Mean Moms
"Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother in the whole world! While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast. When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches. And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too. Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.
We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, and all sorts of cruel jobs. I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds. Then, life was really tough!
Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them. While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16. Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. We never did drugs, stayed out all night, or a million other things the other kids did.
Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best to be "mean parents" just like Mom was. I think that is what's wrong with the world today. It just doesn't have enough mean moms anymore."
By Anonymous
We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, and all sorts of cruel jobs. I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds. Then, life was really tough!
Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them. While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16. Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. We never did drugs, stayed out all night, or a million other things the other kids did.
Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best to be "mean parents" just like Mom was. I think that is what's wrong with the world today. It just doesn't have enough mean moms anymore."
By Anonymous
When You Thought I Wasn't Looking
A message every adult should read, because children are watching you and doing as you do, not as you say.
(Written by a former child)
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I immediately wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat,
and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me
and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I heard you say a prayer,
and I knew there is a God I could always talk to and I learned to trust in God.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick,
and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing
and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don't.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it
and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good
and I learned that I would have to be responsible when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes
and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw that you cared
and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I learned most of life's lessons that I need to know to be a good
and productive person when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I looked at you and wanted to say,
"Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking."
(Written by a former child)
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,
and I immediately wanted to paint another one.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you feed a stray cat,
and I learned that it was good to be kind to animals.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make my favorite cake for me
and I learned that the little things can be the special things in life.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I heard you say a prayer,
and I knew there is a God I could always talk to and I learned to trust in God.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you make a meal and take it to a friend who was sick,
and I learned that we all have to help take care of each other.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you give of your time and money to help people who had nothing
and I learned that those who have something should give to those who don't.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw you take care of our house and everyone in it
and I learned we have to take care of what we are given.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw how you handled your responsibilities, even when you didn't feel good
and I learned that I would have to be responsible when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw tears come from your eyes
and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's all right to cry.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I saw that you cared
and I wanted to be everything that I could be.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I learned most of life's lessons that I need to know to be a good
and productive person when I grow up.
When you thought I wasn't looking,
I looked at you and wanted to say,
"Thanks for all the things I saw when you thought I wasn't looking."
A Child's 10 Commandments to Parents
- My hands are small. Please don't expect perfection whenever I make a bed, draw a picture or throw a ball. My legs are short. Please slow down so that I can keep up with you.
- My eyes have not seen the world as yours have. Please let me explore safely. Don't restrict me unnecessarily.
- Housework will always be there. I'm only little for such a short time. Please take time to explain things to me about this wonderful world, and do so willingly.
- My feelings are tender. Please be sensitive to my needs. Don't nag me all day long. (You wouldn't want to be nagged for your inquisitiveness.) Treat me as you would like to be treated.
- I am a special gift from God. Please treasure me, holding me accountable for my actions, giving me guidelines to live by and disciplining me in a loving manner.
- I need your encouragement and your praise to grow. Please go easy on the criticism. Remember, you can criticize the things I do without criticizing me.
- Please give me the freedom to make decisions concerning myself. Permit me to fail so that I can learn from my mistakes. Then someday, I'll be prepared to make the kind of decisions life requires of me.
- Please don't do things over for me. Somehow that makes me feel that my efforts didn't quite measure up to your expectations. I know it's hard, but please don't try to compare me with my brother or my sister.
- Please don't be afraid to leave for a weekend together. Kids need vacations from parents, just as parents need vacations from kids. Besides, it's a great way to show us kids that your marriage is very special.
- Please take me to worship regularly, setting a good example for me to follow.
Author Unknown
Diary of an Unborn Child
March 28: Today my life began. My parents don't know it yet. I am smaller than the seed of an apple. But already, I am I. And unformed as I am right now, I am going to be a girl.
April 12: I have grown a little, but I am still too small to do anything by myself. Mother does just about everything for me. And what is so funny is that she does not even know that she is carrying me here, right under her heart.
April 17: My mouth is just forming now. Just think, in a year or so I will be laughing. Later I will be able to speak. My first word will be, "Mother." Who says I'm not a person yet? I am, just as the tiniest crumb of bread is still truly bread.
April 22: My heart began to beat today. From now on it will gently beat all the rest of my life. Then, after many years, it will tire and stop, and I shall die. But now I am at the beginning - not the ending.
April 29: Every day I grow a bit. My arms and legs are beginning to take shape. But, I will have to wait a long time before my legs will carry me running to my mother's arms and before my arms can embrace my daddy.
May 14: Now tiny fingers are beginning to form. Strange how small they are, but how wonderful they will be. They will pet a puppy, throw a ball and touch another hand. They may even play a violin or paint a picture one day.
May 23: Today the doctor told mother I am living under her heart. They may expect a boy, but I am a little girl. I want to be called Dominique.
June 3: My face is completely formed. I hope I look like mother. Soon my eyes will see the sunshine, the flowers, the sea and the mountains.
June 10: Mother, I can hear your heart beating. You will have a healthy little daughter. I can hardly wait to touch your face and look into your eyes. Mother, why did you let them stop my life? We would have been so happy!
Abortion kills a living, growing human being. Today in America, over 4,400 little human beings are being killed every day. If abortion is a matter of "choice", what choice does the baby have?
- Source unknown -
April 12: I have grown a little, but I am still too small to do anything by myself. Mother does just about everything for me. And what is so funny is that she does not even know that she is carrying me here, right under her heart.
April 17: My mouth is just forming now. Just think, in a year or so I will be laughing. Later I will be able to speak. My first word will be, "Mother." Who says I'm not a person yet? I am, just as the tiniest crumb of bread is still truly bread.
April 22: My heart began to beat today. From now on it will gently beat all the rest of my life. Then, after many years, it will tire and stop, and I shall die. But now I am at the beginning - not the ending.
April 29: Every day I grow a bit. My arms and legs are beginning to take shape. But, I will have to wait a long time before my legs will carry me running to my mother's arms and before my arms can embrace my daddy.
May 14: Now tiny fingers are beginning to form. Strange how small they are, but how wonderful they will be. They will pet a puppy, throw a ball and touch another hand. They may even play a violin or paint a picture one day.
May 23: Today the doctor told mother I am living under her heart. They may expect a boy, but I am a little girl. I want to be called Dominique.
June 3: My face is completely formed. I hope I look like mother. Soon my eyes will see the sunshine, the flowers, the sea and the mountains.
June 10: Mother, I can hear your heart beating. You will have a healthy little daughter. I can hardly wait to touch your face and look into your eyes. Mother, why did you let them stop my life? We would have been so happy!
Abortion kills a living, growing human being. Today in America, over 4,400 little human beings are being killed every day. If abortion is a matter of "choice", what choice does the baby have?
- Source unknown -
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)