This is a beautiful story about the everlasting bond between a mother and her children. It was written for Good Housekeeping Magazine in 1933 by Temple Bailey. It serves as a reminder that mothers are endowed with a love that is unlike any other love on the face of the earth, and that a mother is one who is committed to loving her children into standing on higher ground than the environment that surrounds them.
“Is this the long way?” asked the young mother as she set her foot on the path of life. And the Guide said:
“Yes, and the way is hard, and you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning.”
The young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, she fed them and bathed them, taught them how to tie their shoes and ride a bike, and reminded them to feed the dog and do their homework and brush their teeth. The sun shone on them and the young mother cried,
“Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”
Then the nights came, and the storms, and the path was sometimes dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her arms. The children said,
“Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.”
And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children,
“A little patience and we are there.”
So the children climbed and as they climbed they learned to weather the storms. And with this, she gave them strength to face the world. Year after year she showed them compassion, understanding, hope, but most of all unconditional love. And when they reached the top they said,
“Mother, we could not have done it without you.”
The days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years. The mother grew old and she became little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. And the mother, when she lay down at night, looked up at the stars and said:
“This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned so much and are now passing these traits on to their children.”
And when the way became rough for her, they lifted her, and gave her strength, just as she had given them hers. One day they came to a hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And Mother said,
“I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk with dignity and pride, with their heads held high, and so can their children after them.” And the children said,
“You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.”
And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said,
“We cannot see her, but she is with us still.”
A mother is more than a memory. She is a living presence. Your Mother is always with you. She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she’s the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume that she wore, she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well, she’s your breath in the air on a cold winters day.
She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is your birthday morning. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. And she’s crystallized in every tear drop.
A mother shows through in every emotion – happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrow – and all the while hoping and praying you will only know the good feelings in life.
She’s the place you came from, your first home, and she’s the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you.
Not time, not space – not even death!
Now there is one thing I can tell you: you will enjoy certain pleasures you would not fathom now. When you still had your mother you often thought of the days when you would have her no longer. Now you will often think of days past when you had her. When you are used to this horrible thing that they will forever be cast into the past, then you will gently feel her revive, returning to take her place, her entire place, beside you. At the present time, this is not yet possible. Let yourself be inert, wait till the incomprehensible power … that has broken you restores you a little, I say a little, for henceforth you will always keep something broken about you. Tell yourself this, too, for it is a kind of pleasure to know that you will never love less, that you will never be consoled, that you will constantly remember more and more. – Marcel Proust
Have an AWE-full Mother’s Day Weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque