This is a tribute to all mothers but most specially to my one and only mother who has taken on all the challenges, trials and difficulties just to be a good, loving and a caring mother for all of us-her 11 children- as well as to her 25 or so grandchildren.
Salamat Nanay sa imong pagmahal ug pag-amuma!
Thanks mum for your love and care!
The secret Recipe of a mother
When God created mothers, it was well into overtime on the sixth day. An angel dropped by and commented, ‘Lord, you are taking your time over this creature!’
God replied, ‘You should see the special requirements in the specification! She has to be easy to maintain, but not made of plastic or have any artificial components. She has one hundred and sixty movable parts, and nerves of steel, with a lap big enough for ten children to sit on it at once, but she herself has to be able to fit into a kiddies’ chair. She has to have a back that can carry everything that is loaded onto it. She has to be able to mend everything, from a grazed knee to a broken heart. And she’s supposed to have six pairs of hands.’
The angel shook his head. ‘Six pairs of hands? No way!’
‘The hands are easy,’ God said. ‘But I’m still working on the three pairs of eyes that she needs.’
‘Is this the standard model?’ the angel asked.
God nodded: ‘Oh yes. One pair to look through closed doors while she asks: ‘What are you doing?’ even though she already knows the answer. A second pair at the back of her head, to see what she’s not meant to see, but needs to know about. And, of course, the pair at the front that can look at her child, let him know that he is behaving badly and had better change his ways, while at the same time letting him see how much she loves and understands him.’
‘I think you should go to bed now, Lord, and get some sleep,’ said the angel.
‘I can’t do that,’ said God, ‘I’m almost there. I have nearly created a being who heals herself when she’s ill, who can delight thirty children with one little birthday cake, who can persuade a three-year-old not to eat clay, a six-year-old to wash his hands before meals and a nine-year-old to use his feet to walk and not to kick.’
The angel walked slowly around the prototype Mum. It’s too soft,’ he said.
‘But tough,’ God retorted. ‘You wouldn’t believe the wear and tear this Mum will tolerate.’
‘Can she think?’ asked the angel.
‘Not only think, but reach wise judgements and essential compromises,’ said God, ‘And she can do more than that. She can forget!’
Finally, the angel ran her finger across the model’s cheek.
‘There’s a leak,’ he said. ‘I warned you that you were trying to get too much into her.’
‘That’s not a leak,’ said God. ‘That’s a tear.’
‘What’s that for?’ asked the angel.
‘It flows whenever she feels joy or grief, disappointment or pride, pain or loneliness, or the depths of love.’
‘You are a genius,’ said the angel.
God looked again at his work of art, with pleasure and pride.
‘The tear,’ he said, ‘is her overflow valve.’
God bless all our mothers, grandmothers and all the women who have helped shape who we are now.