Mother, Or Life-Giver?

She was someone I never got to know

Holding onto some idea of how it was to go.

I studied each picture, all the time

Trying to find resemblance of her in this face of mine.

My siblings say I look like her so

My heart held onto that and tried to never say “no”

For if I was like her even in looks

She would of stuck it out, and I’d never be forsook.

I think about her often, it has been five years now

Since I said my final goodbye and my world was turned around.

Mother she was but not in the sense of a relationship or in name

She never earned that with me, it’s a shame.

I was adopted out to my aunt and uncle

It was a different kind of struggle.

They cherished me not, loved me little

I was tormented and caught in the middle.

Mother was not the way I knew my life giver

Even though her blood runs through my veins

She was a life giver, for that I am grateful

But it changes very little.

When I think of her, as I often do

I wish she had been a mother too.

Some people come into our life for a specific purpose

They might not realize it at first

I think she knew that my life began with her

But that it would continue without her.

She may had of had feelings like a mother would for me,

Yet I could not see.

So life can grab us and weigh us down

It gives us struggles that can cause lots of frowns

It’s all is in how you measure what your portions are

That when you can start to repair your heart.

As I am learning to do,

Taking the little I had and working it through.

Photo by TUBARONES PHOTOGRAPHY on Pexels.com

By MwsR

All rights reserved. 2021 MwsR

Poem Share

Mother and Poet by Elizabeth Barrett BrowningI.

Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east,
And one of them shot in the west by the sea.
Dead ! both my boys ! When you sit at the feast
And are wanting a great song for Italy free,
Let none look at me !

II.
Yet I was a poetess only last year,
And good at my art, for a woman, men said ;
But this woman, this, who is agonized here,
— The east sea and west sea rhyme on in her head
For ever instead.

III.
What art can a woman be good at ? Oh, vain !
What art is she good at, but hurting her breast
With the milk-teeth of babes, and a smile at the pain ?
Ah boys, how you hurt ! you were strong as you pressed,
And I proud, by that test.

IV.
What art’s for a woman ? To hold on her knees
Both darlings ! to feel all their arms round her throat,
Cling, strangle a little ! to sew by degrees
And ‘broider the long-clothes and neat little coat ;
To dream and to doat.

V.
To teach them … It stings there ! I made them indeed
Speak plain the word country. I taught them, no doubt,
That a country’s a thing men should die for at need.
I prated of liberty, rights, and about
The tyrant cast out.

VI.
And when their eyes flashed … O my beautiful eyes ! …
I exulted ; nay, let them go forth at the wheels
Of the guns, and denied not. But then the surprise
When one sits quite alone ! Then one weeps, then one kneels !
God, how the house feels !

VII.
At first, happy news came, in gay letters moiled
With my kisses, — of camp-life and glory, and how
They both loved me ; and, soon coming home to be spoiled
In return would fan off every fly from my brow
With their green laurel-bough.

VIII.
Then was triumph at Turin : `Ancona was free !’
And some one came out of the cheers in the street,
With a face pale as stone, to say something to me.
My Guido was dead ! I fell down at his feet,
While they cheered in the street.

IX.
I bore it ; friends soothed me ; my grief looked sublime
As the ransom of Italy. One boy remained
To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time
When the first grew immortal, while both of us strained
To the height he had gained.

X.
And letters still came, shorter, sadder, more strong,
Writ now but in one hand, `I was not to faint, —
One loved me for two — would be with me ere long :
And Viva l’ Italia ! — he died for, our saint,
Who forbids our complaint.”

XI.
My Nanni would add, `he was safe, and aware
Of a presence that turned off the balls, — was imprest
It was Guido himself, who knew what I could bear,
And how ’twas impossible, quite dispossessed,
To live on for the rest.”

XII.
On which, without pause, up the telegraph line
Swept smoothly the next news from Gaeta : — Shot.
Tell his mother. Ah, ah, ` his, ‘ ` their ‘ mother, — not ` mine, ‘
No voice says “My mother” again to me. What !
You think Guido forgot ?

XIII.
Are souls straight so happy that, dizzy with Heaven,
They drop earth’s affections, conceive not of woe ?
I think not. Themselves were too lately forgiven
Through THAT Love and Sorrow which reconciled so
The Above and Below.

XIV.
O Christ of the five wounds, who look’dst through the dark
To the face of Thy mother ! consider, I pray,
How we common mothers stand desolate, mark,
Whose sons, not being Christs, die with eyes turned away,
And no last word to say !

XV.
Both boys dead ? but that’s out of nature. We all
Have been patriots, yet each house must always keep one.
‘Twere imbecile, hewing out roads to a wall ;
And, when Italy ‘s made, for what end is it done
If we have not a son ?

XVI.
Ah, ah, ah ! when Gaeta’s taken, what then ?
When the fair wicked queen sits no more at her sport
Of the fire-balls of death crashing souls out of men ?
When the guns of Cavalli with final retort
Have cut the game short ?

XVII.
When Venice and Rome keep their new jubilee,
When your flag takes all heaven for its white, green, and red,
When you have your country from mountain to sea,
When King Victor has Italy’s crown on his head,
(And I have my Dead) —

XVIII.
What then ? Do not mock me. Ah, ring your bells low,
And burn your lights faintly ! My country is there,
Above the star pricked by the last peak of snow :
My Italy ‘s THERE, with my brave civic Pair,
To disfranchise despair !

XIX.
Forgive me. Some women bear children in strength,
And bite back the cry of their pain in self-scorn ;
But the birth-pangs of nations will wring us at length
Into wail such as this — and we sit on forlorn
When the man-child is born.

XX.
Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east,
And one of them shot in the west by the sea.
Both ! both my boys ! If in keeping the feast
You want a great song for your Italy free,
Let none look at me !

[This was Laura Savio, of Turin, a poetess and patriot, whose sons were killed at Ancona and Gaeta.]

Hooray, Mother’s Day by MwsR

Excellent, another Mother’s Day without a mother

Another year that’ll show things bright and clear

More gifts I see from other’s to their mothers

While no gifts for me to give to mine, no need to bother.

Another day to celebrate the love and affection

That I have been without during this entire affliction.

No dinners with my mother dear

No celebrating, not any certain rights, here.

Great! Another one to pass me by

Another Mother’s Day to make me cry

So many things that I would like to be in my heart

But that isn’t what is real or smart

I won’t ever have much to show on this holiday,

From the one who made me this way.

But that is really okay

I’m learning not to expect things anyway.

Hooray, another Mother’s Day!

To Be Mother by MwsR

They sometimes influence us, into a reflection of them.

Often, they will fix a hem.

Maker of foods that fill our tummies

Helper, with our things, even when we act like dummies.

A guide to see our inner purpose,

A photographer, of a time that was.

More often than not, our biggest fan

Showing us they believe in us and that we can.

Mothers are great, when great is our mother,

If you were not fortunate enough that is, like the others,

Then we should be the mother that we wish we had,

So we won’t always be sad and feel bad.

(Scriptural Tips For Mothering The Motherless) as we are approaching Mother’s Day, perhaps you have taken to another as you would your very own child, even though they aren’t. Still, you can be a scriptural-based mother to them.

Here are five tips from scripture for mothering the motherless.

https://www.crosswalk.com/special-coverage/mothers-day/5-scriptural-tips-for-being-a-mother-to-the-motherless.html

  1. Don’t Force It
    Romans 12:4-5 says “as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.” Becoming a mother-figure to someone will happen naturally if it’s supposed to happen at all.

Ask yourself what motivates you to be motherly. Are you trying to be a godly woman, obedient to the Lord’s will, and sensitive to His leading?

A healthy relationship happens slowly, not by design. At least, it doesn’t happen by our design. God always has a plan for our connections to others. “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.” (2 Corinthians 5:18). He reconnected us to Himself through Christ; God also connects us to others through His Son.

  1. Set an Example
    Older women are taught to “be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine,” and “they are to teach what is good.” (Titus 2:3) There are women who teach Sunday School or Bible Study, but also women who model a Christ-like outlook simply by how they act. If a woman observes and appreciates the way you behave, she will be drawn to emulate your example. That’s the silent teaching of motherhood, but also the sort of example any godly woman can set, whether she’s raised children or not.

That nurturing example is also a useful evangelizing tool. Unbelievers are drawn to the light which faithful, honest Christians demonstrate. “Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise.” (Ephesians 5:15) Being a light in your community—inside or outside of church—means being in community somehow, so get involved. Watch out for multigenerational opportunities. Talk to your neighbor who has three small kids: is her mother far away? Does she crave adult conversation, companionship, or a homemade casserole?

  1. Be Available
    “And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here I am! Send me.’” (Isaiah 6:8) Be ready for God to deploy you where He sees the best fit. If you have spare time, a woman will cross your path who needs discipleship.

If you have extra resources, God will highlight the young family who could use help with shopping and cooking. He might simply call you to encourage a single woman or a one who misses her mom.

If you feel the Holy Spirit directing you to nurture a motherless person who was not on your maternal radar, or with whom you have experienced friction, pray; read scripture; seek trustworthy counsel. If the Word, the Spirit, and a godly friend agree, don’t argue with God. Mothers sometimes have to parent through conflict with their own children—church family can also be challenging.

  1. Be Humble
    The entire church is responsible for the upbringing of fellow-believers. Other “parents” will complement your maternal duties. If you are straightforward, speaking the truth in love, another church “mother” could be the encourager who imparts joy and laughter. Another “parent” might pray over this person on a regular basis, and still others could be called to serve with meals or babysitting.

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” (Colossians 3:12) God directs your path. His loving Spirit connects people. You might not be the exalted “mother” in a relationship but one of many adoptive parents helping someone learn about Christ or how to survive through difficulties.

Christ humbled Himself to the Father’s will. He came to serve us, giving His life without expecting a return. He had been rejected over and over. Christ did not exalt Himself but exalted the Father. Remember those motives mentioned above? Mothering the motherless means giving yourself up to Jesus’ call on your life. Just do it, and don’t wait to be honored. Motherhood is rewarding, but you might not not reap those rewards right now.

  1. Accept Love in Return
    Sometimes, it’s easier to give than to receive. If you don’t accept a gift in return, is it possible that your gift was wrapped in pride, or a need to be the hero in a relationship? Jesus is the hero of our story. We must receive His free gift of grace if we are to be saved. Jesus set the example. He washed the disciples’ feet, (John 13) yet He was their Lord. By saying “yes” to a token of thanks, you are teaching someone how to accept a gift, including THE gift of salvation from Christ.

When your adopted son or daughter wants to do something kind, welcome gratitude. They will feel good sending you flowers or taking you for dinner. If this was your own biological child, you would hope he or she would grow up to be generous and grateful, and a satisfying way to demonstrate these traits is for them to say “thank you” in a tangible way. Be vulnerable; accept the gift. Think of it as a token of God’s love for you given through them.

Mother in Verse
“Go back, each of you, to your mother’s home. May the Lord show you kindness, as you have shown kindness to your dead husbands and to me. May the Lord grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband.” (Ruth 1:8-9) Ruth had a mother she could have returned to, but Ruth’s spirit yearned, instead, to become a daughter to the daughterless, giving Naomi a new purpose in her life: mothering a young widow.

We often focus on the godliness of Ruth, her loving sacrifice for the sake of Naomi, and on her very special place in the genealogy of Christ. What we mustn’t forget is the selflessness of Naomi, who was grieving the loss of her husband and sons. She had the generosity of spirit to say to her daughters-in-law “leave me; find good husbands.” Ruth discovered in Naomi wisdom, kindness, and the dedication of a mother.

In Ruth 2:2, Naomi refers to Ruth as “my daughter.” Naomi was even able to offer Ruth protection through “a relative on her husband’s side, a man of standing” who was Boaz, Ruth’s future husband. (Ruth 2:1) Although neither woman knew it, they were obediently participating in God’s fulfillment of covenant promise through Christ by genuinely honoring this adoptive relationship.