In honor of a Mother

Mother-More than just a Name

Sis. Wilson, myself and Sis. Young


Each of us have one, many are one and everyone needs one. A mother is an integeral part of our everyday being. From the moment of our conception a mother begins to prepare for this life long goal, raising the best you. Our mothers wear many hats, often changing from moment to moment, wife to her husband, keeper of her home, and a nurse to comfort both our physical and physcological hurts and fears. Mother is more than just a name, she is a comfort, a gentle listener and most of all, your best friend. She is a strong tower in the middle of a storm and the fundamental element that holds the family together.

It has been said that what shows on the outside is what is happening on the inside. A mother prepares her home, decorating and organizing, adding her gentle touch to the outside appearance of love and care. She daily washes dishes, does laundry, makes beds, irons, prepares meals, and tends to the needs of not only her family, but those around her. She is seamstress to missing buttons and holes in the knees of your favorite jeans. Mother works daily to add comfort and warm fragrance of brownies and milk after your long day out in the world. She adds her fingerprints to our lives, praying daily for the Heavenly Father to guide and protect us as she ushers us out each day with a tender kiss on our cheek.

As children our imaginations tend to lead us into believing we are famous airline pilots, the first astronaut to land on the moon, a rodeo cowboy, a princess in training, a soldier in a far away country and Miss Betty Crocker Jr. But in the midst of the couch cushions, kitchen table, and mothers high heel shoes, accidents happen. Cowboy tripped on a stone chasing Indian and scrapped his knee, and who else but Dr. Mom could possibly come to the rescue. Mother is a tender to our childhood scrapes and bruises and a mender to our teenage heartbreaks and friendships. She is like a warm blanket and a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter night. She is the one by our bedsides with a steaming bowl of soup and a calming song on her lips; reassuring us that everything will be all right if we just leave it in the hands of someone more capable.

A puzzle is not quite complete unless each piece fits together. A milk shake would not be as sweet and perfect unless the ice cream was added. Our flag would not wave as proudly if the stars had been removed. Just is the same with our mothers, she is the glue that keeps us all together. She is the missing piece, the component that makes us all complete. Without her influence and support we would never be the individual she set out to create. Each story we tell, and each memory we create shapes us and forms us, developing our habits and traditions. My mother is my strength, my comfort, the one I turn to when it hurts. She has always been there, and I know no matter what she will continue to fight for me, even if it means she must first lay down her life in exchange for my own.
Angelica Rose Lombardo
May 14th, 2006



My mum, Grandma Stein and myself