It is so painful when someone tells us the truth about how we may have hurt them. It is even more painful to see how that hurt might have caused so much pain and suffering to that person or due to its ripple effect. How about we say a prayer for those whom we have hurt and ask for forgiveness at the same time. Ask them for forgiveness and ask God to forgive you. Do it all with a contrite heart, that will certainly set anyone free. As painful as it might sounds, it is great to know you are forgiven and loved. Let us beg for the grace of Humility so we can really say and mean: "I am sorry"
M.McCormack- March 30th, 2014
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 3, 2014
A moment with my mother- a poem
A moment with my mother….
By Merita B. McCormack
March 3, 2014
I look at my mother’s face and hands….
They speak a lot
Those hands that always held me
That cleaned and dressed me
That fed and caressed me,
Those hands that have been moving forever
To make things
To create things
To beautify things, places and people
To make the world a better place for me and others
I look at my mother’s hands and recall
How did they affect my world and others’
She is a real hero…
When everything fell on her shoulders
She moved her hands and knitted for us
She fed us, clothed us, protected us
She kept us going….
I look at her hands,
Her fingers are not as fast,
Yet she does marvelous things….
She tells me she is sorry she can’t do much
Yet she is still doing many motherly things
She says, sorry daughter I am tired
And as she holds and kisses my hands,
I get teary eyed…
And then I gaze at her face….
I look at those eyes that always give me
The gentle, loving and affirmative look
Though the rosy cheeks have now faded,
Yet she is rosy hearted….
Her lips are always defined
Regardless of any make up usage
My mother’s smile is a forever stamp
Upon her face and on my heart
I see the same look
Adore the same smile
Sense the same worry
Notice the same determination
Receive the same true love
That only a loving mother can give
And I thank God for my Mother
And in silent prayer I ask Him
To bless her as He wishes……
For she gave me first and foremost life and love...
She looks at me and talks about just anything…..
And I listen…because everything coming from her matters….
I treasure those words and want to once more say
I love my wonderful and loving mother…..
By Merita B. McCormack
March 3, 2014
I look at my mother’s face and hands….
They speak a lot
Those hands that always held me
That cleaned and dressed me
That fed and caressed me,
Those hands that have been moving forever
To make things
To create things
To beautify things, places and people
To make the world a better place for me and others
I look at my mother’s hands and recall
How did they affect my world and others’
She is a real hero…
When everything fell on her shoulders
She moved her hands and knitted for us
She fed us, clothed us, protected us
She kept us going….
I look at her hands,
Her fingers are not as fast,
Yet she does marvelous things….
She tells me she is sorry she can’t do much
Yet she is still doing many motherly things
She says, sorry daughter I am tired
And as she holds and kisses my hands,
I get teary eyed…
And then I gaze at her face….
I look at those eyes that always give me
The gentle, loving and affirmative look
Though the rosy cheeks have now faded,
Yet she is rosy hearted….
Her lips are always defined
Regardless of any make up usage
My mother’s smile is a forever stamp
Upon her face and on my heart
I see the same look
Adore the same smile
Sense the same worry
Notice the same determination
Receive the same true love
That only a loving mother can give
And I thank God for my Mother
And in silent prayer I ask Him
To bless her as He wishes……
For she gave me first and foremost life and love...
She looks at me and talks about just anything…..
And I listen…because everything coming from her matters….
I treasure those words and want to once more say
I love my wonderful and loving mother…..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)