A mother has a ministry
That all too soon will pass,
Too often held in low esteem,
But its influence will last.
She daily shapes eternal souls,
Patterns life skills, sets the goals,
Guides and counsels, eases pain,
This season will not come again.
The world would lure her out the door,
Thinking that there must be more
Than dirty faces, grimy hands,
And constant things that home demands.
But nothing on the earth compares
With the awesome role she shares
Of being to her girls and boys
Their greatest source of earthly joy.
Other interests sure will keep
Until she rocks her babes to sleep,
Things can wait, the time will come
When she won't have these little ones.
As she seeks God's kingdom first,
He'll fill her plate and quench her thirst,
For what it is she's looking for
Lives there with her, not out the door.
So, if you have a precious child,
Cherish them this little while,
Shun the pressure that could make,
Their longing for you to forsake.
That time to serve them fast will fly,
And then you'll wish for days gone by.
VAL HALLORAN
This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.