‘Twas a
Sunday like many others that had come and gone before.
Off to
church before the others so I could unlock the doors.
But this Sunday
morning’s different and now I must tell,
Of why it
stands out from the others, and no it’s not the bells.
And it is
surely not the weather, though we welcome the relief,
From the
sunshine, heat, and dryness that stole spring just like a thief.
But ‘tis the
gathering of ladies who have gathered here before.
But this day
is so special, that these ladies we adore.
Not because
of their dresses or bonnets or a fancy Bile cover,
But because
they have answered all so often to the call of “mother”.
For once
each year we thank them for their service to their young,
Through
diapers, coughs, and illness—or, “Just stick out your tongue.”
And for lunches
packed in brown bags or a Power Rangers box,
And for
seeing me through the measles or maybe, chicken pox.
And helping
me with homework that you tried to make such fun.
But forgot
the rolls were in the oven and were they ever done.
Mothers come
in by the dozens to worship God above.
They never
come alone, but walking hand in hand with love.
And they
will stand and we will cheer them but that’s not why they came.
Though this
day belongs to them, they come for the glory of the Name!
Yes, ‘tis
the name of Jesus that calls these mothers here.
And above
all the love they’ve shown, ‘tis his they hold most dear.
And when
they needed strength keeping children upon his way,
So richly he
provided then and now blesses this Mother’s Day.
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