Somebody’s Mother

By William J. Dell – May 1993

THE WOMAN WAS OLD AND RAGGED AND GRAY
AND BENT WITH THE CHILL OF THE WINTER’S DAY.

THE STREET WAS WET WITH A RECENT SNOW
AND THE WOMAN’S FEET WERE AGED AND SLOW.

SHE STOOD AT THE CROSSING AND WAITED LONG,
ALONE, UNCARED FOR, AMID THE THRONG.

OF HUMAN BEINGS WHO PASSED HER BY
NOR HEEDED THE GLANCE OF HER ANXIOUS EYE.

DOWN THE STREET, WITH LAUGHTER AND SHOUT,
GLAD IN THE FREEDOM OF “SCHOOL LET OUT”.

CAME THE BOYS LIKE A FLOCK OF SHEEP,
HAILING THE SNOW PILED WHITE AND DEEP.

PAST THE WOMAN SO OLD AND GRAY
HASTENED THE CHILDREN ON THEIR WAY.

NOR OFFERED A HELPING HAND TO HER -
SO MEEK, SO TIMID, AFRAID TO STIR.

LEST THE CARRIAGE WHEELS OR THE HORSES’ FEET
SHOULD CROWD HER DOWN IN THE SLIPPERY STREET.

AT LAST CAME ONE OF THE MERRY TROOP,
THE GAYEST LADDIE OF ALL THE GROUP;

HE PAUSED BESIDE HER AND WHISPERED LOW,
“I’LL HELP YOU CROSS, IF YOU WISH TO GO”.

HER AGED HAND ON HIS STRONG YOUNG ARM
SHE PLACED, AND SO, WITHOUT HURT OR HARM,

HE GUIDED THE TREMBLING FEET ALONG,
PROUD THAT HIS OWN WERE FIRM AND STRONG.

THEN BACK AGAIN TO HIS FRIENDS HE WENT,
HIS YOUNG HEART HAPPY AND WELL CONTENT.

“SHE’S SOMEBODY’S MOTHER, BOYS, YOU KNOW,
FOR ALL SHE’S AGED AND POOR AND SLOW.

“AND I HOPE SOME FELLOW WILL LEND A HAND
TO HELP MY MOTHER, YOU UNDERSTAND,

“IF EVER SHE’S POOR AND OLD AN GRAY,
WHEN HER OWN DEAR BOY IS FAR AWAY.”

AND “SOMEBODY’S MOTHER” BOWED LOW HER HEAD
IN HER HOME THAT NIGHT, AND THE PRAYER SHE SAID

WAS “GOD BE KIND TO THE NOBLE BOY,
WHO IS SOMEBODY’S SON, AND PRIDE AND JOY!”

A well know television series of the fifties began its episodes with:

For as long as I could remember, the small cottage on Castro Street had been home. The familiar background was there; Papa, my only brother, Nels, my sister, Christine, closest to me in age, yet ever secret and withdrawn — and the littlest sister, Dagmar. But most of all –

I Remember Mama

Who can measure a mother’s love? A love that speaks of acceptance without conditions. A love that willingly accepts the travail of birth and of nurturing an infant. A love that soothes away the real and imagined ills and hurts of childhood. A love that provides guidance to a teen when needed. Guidance that is often unsought and rejected but still given with hope and love. A love that releases a young adult from her nest to brave the world while she prays mightily that her child will succeed. A love that through the eyes of empathy watches as her child passes over the path she has trod as she becomes a grandmother. Yes, this world would be a far better place if everyone loved one another with a mother’s love. This is because mother’s love is the true essence of charity. And charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.

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The greatest gift a father can give his children is to love their mother.
No man can belittle a daughter of God without offending her Father.

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