EIGHT LIES OF A MOTHER

This story begins when I was a child: I was born poor. Often we hadn't enough to eat. Whenever we had some food, Mother often gave me her portion of rice. While she was transferring her rice into my bowl, she would say 'Eat this rice, son! I'm not hungry.'

This was Mother's First Lie!

As I grew, Mother gave up her spare time to fish in a river near our house; she hoped that from the fish she caught, she could give me a little bit more nutritious food for my growth. Once she had caught just two fish, she would make fish soup. While I was eating the soup, mother would sit beside me and eat what was still left on the bone of the fish I had eaten. My heart was touched when I saw it. Once I gave the other fish to her on my chopstick but she immediately refused it and said, 'Eat this fish, son! I don't really like fish.'

This was Mother's Second Lie!

Then, in order to fund my education, Mother went to a match factory to bring home some used matchboxes which she filled with fresh matchsticks. This helped her get some money to cover our needs. One wintry night I awoke to find Mother filling the matchboxes by candlelight. So I said, 'Mother, go to sleep; it's late: you can continue working tomorrow morning.' Mother smiled and said 'Go to sleep, son! I'm not tired.'

This was Mother's Third Lie!

When I had to sit my final examination, Mother accompanied me. After dawn, Mother waited for me for

hours in the heat of the sun. When the bell rang, I ran to meet her. Mother embraced me and poured me a glass of tea that she had prepared in a thermo. The tea was not as strong as my Mother's love. Seeing Mother covered with perspiration, I at once gave her my glass and asked her to drink too. Mother said 'Drink, son! I'm not thirsty!'

This was Mother's Fourth Lie!

After Father's death, Mother had to play the role of a single parent. She held on to her former job; she had to fund our needs alone. Our family's life was more complicated. We suffered from starvation. Seeing our family's condition worsening, my kind Uncle who lived near my house came to help us solve our problems big and small. Our other neighbors saw that we were poverty-stricken so they often advised my mother to marry again. But Mother refused to remarry saying 'I don't need love.'

This was Mother's Fifth Lie!

 

After I had finished my studies and gotten a job, it was time for my old Mother to retire but she carried

on going to the market every morning just to sell a few vegetables. I kept sending her money but she was steadfast and even sent the money back to me. She said, 'I have enough money.'

That was Mother's Sixth Lie!

I continued my part-time studies for my Master's Degree. Funded by the corporation for which I worked. I succeeded in my studies. With a big jump in my salary, I decided to bring Mother to enjoy life but Mother didn't want to bother her son; she said to me 'I'm not used to high living.'

That was Mother's Seventh Lie!

In her dotage (period of life in which a person is old and weak), Mother was attacked by cancer and had to be hospitalized. Now living far across the ocean, I went home to visit Mother who was bedridden after an operation. Mother tried to smile but I was heartbroken because she was so thin and feeble but Mother said, 'Don't cry, son! I'm not in pain.'

That was Mother's Eighth Lie!

Telling me this, her eighth lie, she died.

Yes, Mother was an angel!

THE MAKING OF A MOTHER: A STORY

By the time the Lord made mothers, He was already into the sixth day, working overtime.  An Angel  appeared and said "Why are you spending so much  time on this one?"

And the Lord answered, and  said, "Have you read the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not elastic; have 200 movable parts, all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up; have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart; and have six pairs of hands."

The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No way!"  said the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem.  It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!" 

"And that's on the standard model?" the Angel asked.

The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head.  They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."

The Angel tried to stop the Lord, "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."

"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She heals herself when she is sick and can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower." 

The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."

"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."

"Will she be able to think?" asked the Angel. 

The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."

The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like You have a leak with this model. I told You that You were trying to put too much into  this one."

"That's not a leak." the Lord objected.  "That's a tear!"

"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked. 

The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."  

The Angel was impressed.  "You are a genius, Lord.  You thought of everything for this one.  You even created the tear!"

The Lord looked at the Angel and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you are wrong again.  I created the woman, but she created the tear!"

THE GIFT OF LOVE

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. "But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness 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. So 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 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 that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen.

Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.

THE OTHER WOMAN

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie.

She said, “I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you.”

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my Mother, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

“What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked.

My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

“I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded, “Just the two of us.”

She thought about it for a moment and then said, “I would like that very much.”

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up, I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel’s.

“I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son and they were impressed,” she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.”

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady.

After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half-way through the entrees, I lifted my eyes and saw Mother sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.

“It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said.

“Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so much that we missed the movie.

As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.”

I agreed.

“How was your dinner date?” asked my wife when I got home.

“Very nice, much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her.

Sometime later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place Mother and I had dined. An attached note said:

“I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I could be there; but, nevertheless, I paid for two plates – one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son.”

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: ‘I love you’ and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.

Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till some “other” time.

FAITH AND DEEDS

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3), and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called "smile."
 

     The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reaction. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say, hello, anyway… so, I thought, this would be a piece of cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald’s, one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special play time with our son.

     We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did not move an inch… an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible “dirty body” smell… and there standing behind me were two poor men.

     As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was “smiling.” His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God’s light as he searched for acceptance. He said, “Good day” as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and the blue eyed gentle man was his salvation. I held my tears… as I stood there with them.

     The young lady at the counter asked them what they wanted. The man doing the ordering said, “Coffee is all Miss.” — because that was all they could afford. To sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something… hey, they just wanted to be warm. Then I really felt it… the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with his blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me… judging my every action.

     I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman’s cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, “Thank you.” I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, “I did not do this alone for you… God is here working through me to give you hope.”

      I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, “That is why God gave you to me honey… to give me hope.” We held hands for moment and at that time we knew that only because of the Grace of God that we had been given, that we were able to give. We are not church goers but we are believers. That day showed me the pure Light of God’s sweet love.

     I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in “my project” and the instructor read it… then she looked up at me and said, “may I share this?” I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read, and that is when I knew that we, as human beings and being part of God, share the need to help people and be helped.

     In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald’s, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student. I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn… unconditional acceptance. Much love and compassion is sent to each and every person who may read this. Learn how to love people and use things - not love things and use people.

If this true story has touched you in any way, share it with a friend, so we all can better practice the love that Jesus Christ taught us.

JUST A MOM

A woman,  renewing her driver’s license at the County   Clerk ‘s office was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.  ”What I mean  is,” explained the recorder, “do you have a job or are you just a……?”

“Of course I have a job,” snapped the woman.  ”I’m a Mom.”

“We don’t  list ‘Mom’ as an occupation, ‘housewife’ covers it,” said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all  about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.

The Clerk  was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient and  possessed of a high sounding title like, “Official Interrogator” or “Town Registrar.”

 ”What is your occupation?” she probed.  What made me say it? I do not know.  The words simply popped out.

“I’m a  Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.” 

The clerk  paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.

Then I  stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

 ”Might I ask,” said the clerk  with new interest, “just what you do in your field?”

Coolly,  without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself  reply, “I have a continuing program of research, (what  mother doesn’t) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I’m working  for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course,  the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).

But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the  rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.”
 There was an  increasing note of respect in the clerk’s voice as she completed the form, stood up and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by  my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants — ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I  could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old  baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.

I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had  gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and  indispensable to mankind than “just another Mom.”

Motherhood!

THE DOLL AND THE ROSE

I was walking around in the store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back.  The boy couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old.  The Cashier said, “I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough money to buy this doll.”

 
Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ”Granny, are you sure I don’t have enough money?” The old lady replied: ”You know that you don’t have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.”

Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly.  The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. “It’s the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.”

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly. “No, Santa Claus can’t bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.”

His eyes were so sad while saying this. “My Sister has gone to be with God . Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my  sister.”

My heart nearly stopped.  The little boy looked up at me and said: “I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.”

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing.  He then told me “I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won’t forget me.”

“I love my mommy and I wish she doesn’t have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.”

Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. “Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?”
“OK” he said, “I hope I do have enough.” I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: “Thank you God for giving me enough money!”
Then he looked at me and added, “I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so  that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!”

“I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn’t dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.”

“My mommy loves white roses.”

A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn’t get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local newspaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.

The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away.

I couldn’t stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I  went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.
She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.

I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.

WHITE ROSES

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas gifts. I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I kinda wished that I could just sleep through Christmas. But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys, and wondered if the grandkids would even play with them. I found myself in the doll aisle.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy about 5 holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered who the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman and he called his aunt by name and said, "Are you sure I don't have enough money?"

She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don't have enough money for it." The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere that she had to go get some other things and would be back in a few minutes. And then she left the aisle.

The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for. He said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa would bring it." I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it. He said, "No Santa can't go where my sister is... I have to give the doll to my Mamma to take to her". I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said," She has gone to be with Jesus. My Daddy says that Mama is going to have to go be with her."

My heart nearly stopped beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell Mama not to go. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store". Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to. He pulled out some pictures he'd had taken at the front of the store. He said, "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she doesn't forget me. I love my Mama so very much and I wish she did not have to leave me. But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister." I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet. While he was not looking I reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills. I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?" He grew excited and said, "Yes, I just know it has to be enough".

So I slipped my money in with his and we began to count it. Of course it was plenty for the doll. He softly said, "Thank you Jesus for giving me enough money." Then the boy said, "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll so Mama can take it with her to give to my sister. And he heard my prayer. I wanted to ask him for enough to buy my Mama a white rose, but I didn't ask him, but he gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Mama. She loves white roses so very, very much." In a few minutes the aunt came back and I wheeled my cart away. I could not keep from thinking about the little boy as I finished my shopping in a totally different spirit than when I had started.

And I kept remembering a story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier about a drunk driver hitting a car and killing a little girl and the Mother was in serious condition. The family was deciding on whether to remove the life support. Now surely this little boy did not belong to that story. Two days later I read in the paper where the family had disconnected the life support and the young woman had died. I could not forget the little boy and just kept wondering if the two were somehow connected.

Later that day, I could not help myself and I went out and bought some white roses and took them to the funeral home where the young woman was. And there she was holding a lovely white rose, the beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store.

I left there in tears, my life changed forever. The love that little boy had for his little sister and his mother was overwhelming. And in a split second a drunk driver had ripped the life of that little boy to pieces.