mother-s-love

And here she was. Lying on the floor of a dusty, empty, locked room thinking how grateful she felt.She smiled, though it hurt tremendously to do so, thinking how blessed she had been to have spent twelve years with the most precious gifts from God. She felt honored that they called her mother. She knew she had done the best she could teaching them about life and love, faith and family. Margo lay slowly dying from the wounds inflicted by a monster, but she was at peace. Because though the devil meant it for evil, God turned it to good.

Kestrel's eyes slipped shut. She faded in and out of sleep. When Arin spoke again, she wasn't sure whether he expected her to to hear him.'I remember sitting with my mother in a carriage.' There was a long pause. Then Arin's voice came again in that slow, fluid way that showed the singer in him. 'In my memory, I am small and sleepy, and she is doing something strange. Every time the carriage turns into the sun, she raises her hand as if reaching for something. The light lines her fingers with fire. Then the carriage passes through shadows, and her hand falls. Again sunlight beams through the window, and again her hand lifts. It becomes and eclipse.' Kestrel listened, and it was as if the story itself was an eclipse, drawing its darkness over her.'Just before I fell asleep,' he said, 'I realized that she was shading my eyes from the sun.' She heard Arin shift, felt him look at her.'Kestrel.' She imagined how he would sit, lean forward. How he would look in the glow of the carriage lantern. 'Survival isn't wrong. You can sell your honor in small ways, so long as you guard yourself. You can pour a glass of wine like it's meant to be poured, and watch a man drink, and plot your revenge.' Perhaps his head tilted slightly at this. 'You probably plot even in your sleep.' There was a silence as long as a smile.'Plot away, Kestrel. Survive. If I hadn't lived, no one would remember my mother, not like I do.' Kestrel could no longer deny sleep. It pulled her under.'And I would never have met you.

Although I wasn't there to bear witness, I imagine Lot's wife scanned the masses for her children. Perhaps she sought out the curves of their mouths and the shapes of their faces, trying to memorize her children, grown now. She looked back as I and any strong, loving mother would have done.

Being a mother must be the saddest yet the most hopeful thing in the world, falling into a love that, once started, would never end.

Just as there is no warning for childbirth, there is no preparation for the sight of a first child... There should be a song for women to sing at this moment, or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name the moment.

There is a world of difference between the experienceof 'care' _ the wiping of a bottom, the bathing of a body: basicbiological obligations _ and the intimacy that makes us wantto live.

No place in this world is, as safe as my mother__ womb,And nobody in this world is, as loving as my mother.

Don't you love your mother, dear?""I guess so. A hard, sharp, thorny kind of love that might be pity more than anything else.

I know there__ something troubling you. I__ not going to ask what it is, if you don__ want to tell me. But remember that I__ your mother. Nothing you say could ever shock me or make me love you less.

People who lost their mother should be careful about committing crime, because probably no one else is praying to save you.

There's no substitute for a mother's warmth on a wintry night!!!

A praying mother is more precious and valuable than all the riches in the world.

No matter how old you are, you always want your mother__ love and acceptance. I guess I__ hoping one day I__l get it back.

All those calm, adult discussions. When all she really wanted to do was scream for her momma, her sweet momma, the one person in the world who loved her better than anyone ever would or ever could.

Please remember that you can talk to me about anything. I know it__ hard to talk to your old mom about things, but I__l always help you in whatever way I can. I__ serious. You have to remember that I used to hold you right here in my arms.

Mother's ways are higher than others, even when everyone rejects, mother accepts with her arms open and wide.

A mother's love is the morning sunshine that always enlightens our way.

A mother's love is more beautiful than any fresh flower.