throat red and sore,
like "pieces of broken glass" she said.
Eyes fluttering open and closed
as she drifted in and out of sleep.
My eight year old baby was sick,
body ravaged by the aches
and pains of the viral flu.
I silently sat with her and
watched over her in her misery.
She opened her mouth and
whispered her gratitude-
"Thank you, Mom," she said,
"thank you for taking care of me."
The influenza bug has entered my home and my children are coughing and sneezing their way through these late winter days. Visits to the doctor bring serious diagnoses like bronchitis and walking pneumonia. The local pharmacist has come to know my husband on a first name basis as he has become a frequent visitor purchasing various antibiotics and cold remedy prescriptions until our home has become a mini-pharmacy of it's own. It is a challenge for a working mom, torn between leaving the teens home to fend for themselves while I earn or living, or staying home with them to give them a bit of comfort and care in these last few years before they move out of the house and have to care for themselves. They will always be my babies, no matter how old they become. I will always yearn to be with them whenever I feel that they might need my loving arms.
Isn't that how it is with our Mother in heaven? Doesn't she long to care for us, simply by sitting by our side whenever we aren't feeling well? All we have to do is call out to her, remind her that we are always her children in need of the love and care of our Mother, and there she will be, right by our side, pressing our faces close to her own and whispering our names. We will always be her babies and she will always be our Mother, no matter how old we become.
Thank you beautiful Mother, for all of your love and affection.
On this day, O Beautiful Mother!
On this day we give thee our love;
Near thee, Madonna, fondly we hover,
trusting thy gentle care to prove.
On this day we ask to share, dearest Mother,
thy sweet care;
Aid us e'er, our feet astray, wandering from
thy guiding way.
Queen of Angels, deign to hear, thy dear
children's humble pray'r;
Young hearts gain, O Virgin pure, sweetly
to thyself allure.
