Being a Mother-Author Unknown

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she
and her husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're taking a
survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more
spontaneous vacations...."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to
decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn
in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of
child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her
with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper
without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane
crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of
starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than
watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think
that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce
her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an
urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop her best crystal without
a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has
invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by
motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be
going into an important business meeting and she will think of her
baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline
to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be
routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma.
That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming
children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed
against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that
restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess
herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that
eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never
feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be
of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up
in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for
more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child
accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a caesarian scar or shiny stretch marks will
become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband
will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could
understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder
the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she
should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she
would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women
throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk
driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about
most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat
of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your
child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh
of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first
time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed
in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach
across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer
for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble
their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from
God . . . that of being a Mother.

The Pear Tree

There was a man who had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn not to
judge things too quickly. So he sent them each on a quest, in turn, to
go and look at a pear tree that was a great distance away.

The first son went in the winter, the second in the spring, the third
in summer and the youngest son in the fall.

When they had all gone and come back, he called them together to
describe what they had seen.

The first son said that the tree was ugly, bent, and twisted.

The second son said no, it was covered with green buds and full of promise.

The third son disagreed; he said it was laden with blossoms that
smelled so sweet and looked so beautiful, it was the most graceful
thing he had ever seen.

The last son disagreed with all of them; he said it was ripe and
drooping with fruit, full of life and fulfillment.

The man then explained to his sons that they were all right, because
they had each seen but only one season in the tree's life.

He told them that you cannot judge a tree, or a person, by only one
season, and that the essence of who they are and the pleasure, joy,
and love that come from that life can only be measured at the end,
when all the seasons are up.

If you give up when it's winter, you will miss the promise of your
spring, the beauty of your summer, fulfillment of your fall.

Moral lessons:

Don't let the pain of one season destroy the joy of all the rest.

Don't judge life by one difficult season. Persevere through the
difficult patches and better times are sure to come some time later .

Boy and Tree

There was one time a very young boy, who used to spend time playing by a tree.

One day he got bored and he said to the tree, "I'm bored, I've played
with these toys too many times!"

The tree replied, "OK, you can climb up on me and play on my branches."

The boy got really happy with this suggestion and he had a lot of fun
playing and sitting high up, on the branches of the tree.

When he started school, he spent more time away from the tree, but one
day he came back to it, and the tree was overjoyed to see its young
companion, and it encouraged him to climb on, but he refused.

"My clothes are going to get dirty if I climb up on you."
So the tree thought for a while, and said, "OK, bring a rope and tie
it to me, and you can use my branches as a swing."

The boy liked that idea, so he did that too, and would come back every
other day to sit for a while on that swing.

Whenever he used to get hot, the tree told him to rest in its shade.

As he got older, and moved on to college, times became harder on him
and he ran short of food, so he went back to the tree which he had
stopped visiting for a long time.

The tree recognised him immediately and welcomed him, but he was
hungry and complained to the tree, "I don't have any food to eat, my
stomach is cringing with hunger."

So the tree said, "Pull down my branches and take off the fruit, and
fill yourself up."

The young guy didn't even hesitate, but jumped up and tore off one of
the smaller branches and ate to his fill.

Over the weeks, he tore off all the branches and ate all the fruit.

After the fruits had all gone, he went away and didn't come back to the tree.

When he reached his middle ages, he came back to the tree and said to
it, "I have been very successful in life.

I have earned a lot of money, I have a huge house and I have found a great wife.

Now I want to travel and see the world."

The tree was now very old, but to help its long time companion, it
didn't wait, and said, "Bring a saw, cut off my trunk and make a boat.
Then you will see the wonders of the world."

So again, without hesitation the man cut down the tree.

The same tree which he had played on, ate its fruit, laid in its
shade; he cut it down and made a boat.

As soon as it was finished, he sailed away and wasn't seen by his people again.

One day, an old man, walked past the tree.

It hadnt recovered from the time he had cut it down. He went up to the
tree, but didn't say anything.

He felt the tears coming down from his eyes.

This time the tree spoke in a faint voice, "I'm sorry. I don't have a
trunk for you to climb, nor fruit for you to eat, nor branches of
shade for you to lie in. All I have now are my deep roots."

The old man whispered, "That's fine. Tree roots are the best place to
lie down, snuggle up and sleep after a long life."

The tree symbolizes our parents, and the boy symbolizes us.

The moral of the story is that we make use of our parents like tissue,
and use them all up, and don't even give thanks, but they stay with us
till the very end.

You are your best judge!

Once upon a time there was a painter who had just completed his
course. He took 3 days and painted beautiful scenery. He wanted
people's opinion about his caliber and painting skills. He put his
creation at a busy street-crossing. And just down below aboard which
read -"I have painted this piece. Since I'm new to this profession I
might have committed some mistakes in my strokes etc. Please put a
cross wherever you see a mistake."

While he came back in the evening to collect his painting he was
completely shattered to see that whole canvass was filled with Xs
(crosses) and some people had even written their comments on the
painting. Disheartened and broken completely he ran to his master's
place and burst into tears.

This young artist was breathing heavily and master heard him saying,
"I'm useless and if this is what I have learnt to paint I'm not worth
becoming a painter. People have rejected me completely. I feel like
dying"

Master smiled and suggested "My Son, I will prove that you are a great
artist and have learnt flawless painting. Do as I say without
questioning it. It WILL work."

Young artist reluctantly agreed and two days later early morning he
presented a replica of his earlier painting to his master. Master took
that gracefully and smiled.

"Come with me." master said.

They reached the same street-square early morning and displayed the
same painting exactly at the same place. Now master took out another
board which read -"Gentlemen, I have painted this piece. Since I'm new
to this profession I might have committed some mistakes in my strokes
etc. I have put a box with colors and brushes just below. Please do a
favor. If you see a mistake, kindly pick up the brush and correct it."

Master and disciple walked back home. They both visited the place
same evening. Young painter was surprised to see that actually there
was not a single correction done so far. Next day again they visited
and found painting remained untouched. They say the painting was kept
there for a month for no correction came in!

Moral of the story: It is easier to criticize, but difficult to
improve! So don't get carried away or judge yourself by someone
else's criticism and feel depressed. Judge yourself! You are your
best judge!

A Parrots Advice.

A story worth reading.....or listening to.

A man had a parrot of which he was excessively fond. He kept it in a
silver cage and fed it fruits and nuts and anything else the bird
asked for, for the parrot was so clever it could engage in
conversation.

The parrot longed for freedom and often asked for it but the merchant
would always reply: "Ask for anything else."

One day the parrot said to him: "Give me freedom and I'll give you
three pieces of advice that could be of great benefit to you." The
merchant loved the parrot but he loved money more. He thought: "If his
advice helps me amass wealth, it would be worth it."

"Go," he said, opening the cage.

The parrot hopped out onto his hand.

"Never grieve over loss of wealth," he said. The merchant thought it
was tame advice but said nothing.

The parrot flew to the roof of the merchant's house. "This is my
second advice," he said. "Never believe everything that is told to
you."

"Tell me something that I don't know," said the man, sounding annoyed.

"What you don't know is that I've two priceless gems in my stomach,"
said the bird.

"Two priceless gems," echoed the merchant. "Oh, what a fool I was to
set you free! I'll regret this for the rest of my life!!"

"Don't you want to hear my third advice?" asked the parrot.

"Tell me," said the merchant, bitterly.

"I advised you never to grieve over losses but here you are grieving
over losing me," said the parrot. "I advised you never to believe
everything you hear but you immediately believed me when I told you I
had two gems in my stomach. Could I have survived if I really had two
gems in my stomach? My third advice is: "Listen, learn to listen with
your mind instead of just with your ears."
And with that, the parrot flew away, leaving the merchant gaping.

The Power of an Apology

This morning I accidentally hit my 3 year old with my handbag as I was
coming through the door.

She said "Oh Mum you hit me!"

I responded with, "But darling I didn't mean it, so why are you
cracking up at me?"

"But you did hit me Mum. You hit me and it hurts."

"But I didn't mean it sweetie – ok?"

Then I realised that actually – No it's not ok. Whether it is
intentional or not it needs to be recognised as pain that you have
caused another. It really does. She had a little red mark on her
forehead and it was in fact my doing.

Whether I meant to do it or not.

So I put the groceries down, leaned forward and asked her to show me
the mark. I then gave her a Magic Kiss. I said I was really sorry then
gave her a cuddle. No more was spoken about it.

It was a really easy thing to do. Much easier than arguing and saying
-"It's not my fault because I didn't mean it!" Yes – a lot of things
are not intentional but they still need to be recognised as pain.

How hard is it to just face someone, kiss them and apologise?

The Secret-Unknown

A woman named Vicki once knew a young person at church named Susan.
Susan always seemed effervescent and happy, although Vicki knew she
had faced struggles in her life. Her long-awaited marriage had quickly
ended in divorce. She had struggled to get a grip on her single life.
She hadn't chosen it, but she decided she would live it with utmost
enjoyment and satisfaction. Susan was active in Sunday school, in the
choir, as a leader of the junior high girls' group, and in the church
renewal movement. Vicki enjoyed knowing Susan. Susan's whole face
seemed to smile.

One day Vicki asked Susan, "How is it that you are always so happy,
you have so much energy, and you never seem to get down?" With her
eyes smiling, Susan said, "I know the Secret!"

"What secret is that, what are you talking about?" Vicki asked. Susan
replied, "I'll tell you all about it, but you have to promise to share
the Secret with others."

Vicki agreed, "Okay, now what is it?"

The Secret is this:

"I have learned there is little I can do in my life that will make me
truly happy. I must depend on God to make me happy and meet my needs.
When a need arises in my life, I have to trust God to supply according
to HIS riches. I have learned most of the time I don't need half of
what I think I do. HE has never let me down."

Since I learned that Secret I am happy.

Vicki's first thought was, that's too simple! But upon reflecting over
her own life she recalled how she thought a bigger house would make
her happy -but it didn't! She thought a better-paying job would make
her happy -but it hadn't. When did she realize her greatest happiness?
Sitting on the floor with her grandchildren, playing games, eating
pizza or reading a story, a simple gift from God. Susan knew the
secret, Vicki learned the secret, and now you know it too!

We can't depend on people to make us happy. Only GOD in His wisdom can
do that. Trust HIM! And now I pass the Secret on to you!