The following story has been retold and rewritten several times here. And every once in a while, I have been tempted to post it again and again. I had to resist the idea on a number of occasions as over-doing it will rob the story of its beauty and message. But here it is, again, and I pray that you’ll learn a new lesson and be reminded once again of the worth of that wonderful person in your life.
A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be sent to his mother who lives two hundred miles away.
As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing.
He asked her what was wrong and she replied, “I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother. But I have only seventy-five cents, and a rose costs two dollars. And that is not sufficient to buy her a rose.”
The man smiled and said, “Come on in with me. I’ll buy you a rose.”
He bought the little girl her rose and ordered flowers to be sent to his mother.
As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home.
She said, “Yes, please! You can take me to my mother.”
She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.
The man returned to the flower shop, canceled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother’s house, and spent time with her.
How many of us are truly aware of the real worth of a mother? My own mother is now 76. She is still going strong by God’s grace. But my daughters lost their mother at a very tender age. They are now 16, 13, 10 and 6. Ask them, and they will tell you with tears in their eyes what a mother meant to them.
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
My mother is a poem
I'll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.
|| Sharon Doubiago