I suppose y'all know it by now, but I have a warm place in my heart for Mary the Mother of Jesus. I doubt it if there was ever a mother who was more patient and kind than Yeshua's imma.
"Hold on a minute," I can hear you say, but let me continue : ). Sure I know her patience must have only rarely been tested while Jesus was growing up. (Maybe it was a challenge to keep him out of those big vessels of oil and wheat, when he was learning to walk, who knows?) But I would give her a tiara for being the Best Mother not because of who she was, but who she got to live with. With such a sweet and cheery little fellow in the house don't you think she was continually striving to be just a little bit more worthy to care for Him, and it would have spread around to those she had contact with, especially His little brothers and sisters who sometimes were really quite naughty!
Okay, let's strive to also be worthy of being in touch with Him... and here is a poem in tribute to Moms.
A message to the young
In her cupped hand
She holds your heart;
Holding it gently
From the start.
She sees such beauty in the clay
And tenderly fashions it
Day by day.
No artist could
More careful be
Then the mother who cares
Most lovingly.
And if perchance
You make mistakes
And your poor vessel
Cracks and breaks
She'll gather the pieces
And mend them with prayers
That comes from the heart.
But mothers, as potters,
Are clumsy and weak;
Their touch, though imperfect
Is of love strong and deep.
Her hands are enfolded
In God's Hands kind and strong
That will temper her efforts
All your life long.
All your life long.
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