The Coconino sun., 1924-06-13

WHeH 4 CHlilk Oh Ily IHOtHSf, my
mind sometimes drifts to the differ
ent occasions on which did not do as
she wished and disobeyed her and
thus caused her temporary sorrow.
Then, of course, my memory also goes
back to the forgivable corrective meas
ures she took to help make a man OF
me. Probably the most unforgettable
occasions were when she reported me
to Dad-those few times still remain I
very vivid in my memory. They were
both superb in corrective criticism.
The subject "My Mother" is, one
that borders so close TO the divine that
only master mind should attempt to
handle it. In my remarks, | shall
attempt but little original, but what
| say will be largely what has been
written by another.
Those of us who have passed our
teens and twenties' can easily re-
member when every well-regulated
family hung embroidered mottos on
the walls of the living room and bed
room. You will recall some of them
with me, with gladstone smile: "God
Bless Our Home. Remember Thy
Creator in the Days of Thy Youth.
Or perhaps there was decorative
border of white flowers and within
them the more or less meaningless
phrase: Consider the Lilies" Even
now you will occasionally find hidden
away, one, in a home where sentiment
for the past still outweighs modern
| ideas of household furnishings.
A writer once said that he believed
that he had inherited the motto habit
from his forbears, sufficiently 50
that he pasted on the inner door Of
! his office one sentence which he had
picked up somewhere, several years
before and could not forget; and he
says it still there remains sweet
and satisfying reminder of the first
and finest Of human relations. This
sentence reads:
"When God made our mothers, he
didn't do anything the rest of that
day but sit around and feel happy"
In my job as in every mans job
there are times when one is tempted
to take steps which fall below that
of the average of the standard of the
best living. How invigorating it then
is in ones minds eye to be able to
look up and see those short lines
starting you in the face.
/ If the coming into tie world of my
mother made God happy-and / know
it did would be working at cross
purposes with Him if | did anything
to spoil her happiness, or even secret
ly to be disloyal to her hopes and her
ideals for me. And what my mother
! is to me, your mother is to you, the
! finest gift God has ever given YOU.
From out of the very pangs from
which she has brought you to birth
has sprung a love which knows no
limitations and it asks but one favor,
that you live life worthy of her
dreams and prayers for you.
My mother was one of millef'S
prettiest girls when she was young
you wouldn't think so by looking at
me. She still retains that petite,
winsome personality and CHEEKY smile
of youth, untouched by the years that
have crowned her head with gray and
slowed her step. But it is not looks
that make mothers, it is something
more than outward appearances. One
of the minor poets once beautifully
/ spoke of mothers hands:
Rough hands they are.
Toll worn and brown,
But not stain on them,
To soil the crown"
Another writer has said:
Kindly eyes and lips grown softly
| sweet,
Murmurs of blessings over babes
asleep"
No, it is not her looks. She may
not have the loveliness of queen,
but she is more than queen. She
may not have the dash of the modern
girl, but she is Of infinitely more
/ solid worth than any modern girl |
have even seen. She may stand in
the shadows. Of life's background, but
any one with eyes can see that nim-
bus of flame about her which sheds
its beams into the darkest corner and
makes it light.
And are we fair to our mothers
They ask so little of us, and we are
accustomed to giving them little. But
so great is their pride and love that
1 this little means much to them. Why
does the worlds greatest picture and
the worlds greatest statue speak to-
US of mother and child? Why
does the exquisite glory of our re-
ligion center around that Of holy
motherhood? 1t is because there is
something in motherhood that is di-
vine, and it is for US to have part
of that divinity by striving to be-
sometimes to our mothers what they
are always striving to be to us.
| read novel twenty years ago,
'"The Garden of Allah" 1t was one
of the years best sellers. There is
| little of it that remember ex-
cept one single sentence: Il think
the devil fears one good mother more
than many saints ! agree with that