Wind beneath my Wings...

unknown

For the body you gave me, the bone and the senew,
the heart and the brain that are yours, my mother, I thank you.

I thank you for the light in my eyes, the blood in my veins, for
my speech, for my life, for my being. All that I am is from you
who bore me.

For all the love that you gave me, unmeasured from the
beginning, my mother, I thank you. I thank you for the hand that
led me, the voice that directed me, the breast that nestled, the
arm that shielded me, the lap that rested me. All that I am is by
you, who nursed me.

For your smile in the morning and your kiss at night, my mother, I
thank you. I thank you for the tears you shed over me, the songs
you sung to me, the prayers that you said for me, for your vigils
and ministerings. All that I am is by you who reared me.

For the faith you had in me, the hope you had for me, for your
trust, and your pride, my mother, I thank you. I thank you for your
praise and your chiding, for the justice you bred in to me and the
honor you made mine.

All that I am you taught me. For the sore travail that I caused you,
for the visions and despairs, my mother, forgive me. Forgive me
the peril I brought you to, the sobs and moans I wrung from you,
and for the strength I took from you, mother, forgive me. For the
fears I gave you, for the alarms and the dreads' my mother, forgive
me. Forgive me the joys I deprived you, the toils I made for you, for
the hours, the days and the years I claimed from you, mother forgive me.

For the times I hurt you, the times I had no smile for you, the caresses I
did not give you, my mother, forgive me. Forgive me for my angers
and my revolts, for my deciets and evasions, for all the pangs and
sorrows I brought to you, my mother, forgive me.

For your lessons I did not learn, for your wish I did not heed, for
the counsels I did not obey, my mother, forgive me. Forgive me my
pride in my youth and my glory in my strength that I forgot the holiness
of your years and the veneration of your weakness, for my neglect,
for my selfishness, for all the great debts of your love that I have not
paid mother, sweet mother, forgive me.

And may the peace and the joy that passeth all understanding be
yours my mother, forever and ever. Amen

When God set the world in place,
when He hung the stars up in space,
when He made the land and the sea,
then He made you and me.
He sat back and saw all that was good,
He saw things to be as they should.
Just one more blessing He had in store;
He created a mother, but whatever for?
He knew a mother would have a special place
to shine His reflection on her child's face,
A mother will walk the extra mile
just to see her children smile.
She'll work her fingers to the bone
to make a house into a home,
A mother is there to teach and guide,
a mother will stay right by your side,
She'll be there through your pain and strife,
she'll stay constant in your life.
A mother will lend a helping hand
until you have the strength to stand.
She'll pick you up when you are down,
when you need a friend she'll stick around.
A mother is one who listens well,
will keep her word; will never tell.
A mother never pokes or pries
but stands quietly by your side,
giving you the strength you need,
encouraging you to succeed.
A mother is one who can be strong
when you need someone to lean on.

You're more than a mother to me;
a reflection of Him in your face I see,
a love that knows no boundaries.
I'm glad that you chose to be
all this and more to me.
You share a love that knows no end,
you're more than my mother,
you are my friend.

When the good Lord was creating mothers, he was into his
sixth day of overtime, when an angel appeared and said,
"You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this one?
She has to be completely washable, but not plastic;
have 180 moveable parts, all replaceable;
run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap
that disappears when she stands up;
a kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg
to a disappointed love affair; and six pair of hands."
The angel shook her head slowly and said,
"Six pairs of hands...no way."
“It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord.
"It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded.
"One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks,
"What are you kids doing in there?" when she already knows.
Another here, in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't,
but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front
that can look at a child when he goofs up and say,
"I understand and I love you," without so much as uttering a word."
"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve gently, "Rest for now.
Tomorrow..." "I can't," said the Lord.
"I'm so close to creating something close to myself.
Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick,
can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger
and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."
The angel circled the model of the mother very slowly.
"She's too soft," she sighed. "But tough!" said the Lord excitedly.
"You cannot imagine what the mother can do or endure."
"Can she think?"
"Not only think, but she can reason and compromise,"
said the Creator.
Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.
"There's a leak," she pronounced.
"I told you, you were trying to put too much into this model."
"It's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear."
"What's it for?"
"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness and pride."
"You're a genius," said the angel.
The Lord looked somber, "I didn't put it there."

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