Mothers’ Day! Kindness’ day

In the comments he wrote on the subject of the commandment "Honor your father and your mother, so you live long in the land which the Lord your God will give you"; Allan Kardec said that this commandment is not only a corollary of the general law charity and love of neighbor, but it ends another duty to them, the filial piety. God wanted to show by this way that with love must be attached respect, attention, submission and condescension, which involves an obligation to be fulfilled to them, even more rigorously; all what charity commands respect the neighbor in general.

Honor father and mother is not only to respect them. It also to watch them, provide them home in old age, surround them with care as they did to us in childhood. We, the children, do not own to our parents only what it is necessary, but also, as far as we can, the little things, even if superfluous, the concerns, the loving care...

There has not left, so this day, we devote to Mothers, but fulfill part of what filial duty calls us, offering to our dear mothers, embodied or disembodied, as a simple present, the beautiful texts reproduced below: 

Mother Portrait 

Don Ramon Angel Lara

A simple woman, that exists by her love’s immensity, has a bit of God; and by her constancy dedication has plenty of angel; that being young, she thinks like an old woman, and being old, acts with all the forces of youth; when ignorant, better than any wise unveils the secrets of life and when wise, takes the simplicity of children; poor, knows to enrich herself with the happiness of people she loves, and rich, impoverishing herself so that her heart does not bleed wounded by ungrateful; strong, however, shudders at the cry of a small child, and weak, however, hollyhock with the bravery of lions; alive, we do not know to give her value because at her shade makes disappear all over the pain and dead, all we are and all that we have, it would be given to see her again and from her to receive a tightening from her arms, a word from her lips.

Do not require me to say the name of this woman, if you do not want me to soak this album with tears, because I saw her passing on my way.

When grow up your children, read to them this page. They will cover your forehead with kisses, and say that a poor wanderer in exchange for sumptuous received accommodation, left here for all the portrait of his own mother.

Mothers’ Day 

Giuseppe Ghiaroni

 Mother, I can see you again at the old room

Where ato ne night I left you speechless

Saying good bye like someone is going to die.

And you saw me disappearing through the mist,

Because mothers’ destiny is this destiny:

Love, take care, raise, after... lose.

Losing a son is like finding death.

Losing a son when it is big and strong,

It could already support and indemnify her.

But at this moment a beautiful woman,

Smiling, steals; and the old mother upset

She still gets back to bless her.

So I left and she blessed us.

I forgot the good you taught me,

I fell down in the world to dis-educate myself.

And you was in a cold silence,

Looking at the bed I left empty,

Singing a lullaby

Today, I come back cover with dust

And I have found you quietly in the chair,

Head drooped over the chest.

I want to kiss the forehead, but I do not try.

I want to Wake you up, but I do not know if I should,

I feel that this right is not mine…

The right of giving you this regret,

To show you the wrinkles at my face

All the misery happened to me.

And when you see the horrible expression

Of my unrecognizable mask,

My hoarse voice whispering: “It’s me!”.

I drank in the tavern of cretins,

I wield the dagger of the assassins,

I walked through the arm of scoundrels.

I was jester in all comedies,

I was villain in all tragedies,

I was a coward in every battle.

I forgot you: mothers are forgotten.

I lived a life, I lived many lives,

And only now, when I reach the end,

Betrayed by the last hope,

And only now when the pain catches me

I remember who never forgot me.

No! I should get back, be forgotten.

But... what? Suddenly I heard a noise;

The chair creaked, it is too late now!

My mother stands up opening her arms

And, embracing me at a million of hugs,

Giving thanks, she says: “My son!”, and she cries.

And cries and shakes as she speaks and laughs,

And it seems that God has entered here,

Instead of the last convicted.

And her weeping rolling on my face

It is as almost the haven has forgiven me,

It cleans me from all my sins.

Mother! At your arms I transmute myself.

I remember I was a child, I was pure…

Yes, I have a mother! And this happiness is so high

That I understand which it means:

The son is poor, but the mother is rich!

The son is a man, but the mother is a saint!

Saint that has got old because I made her suffer,

But kisses me like saying thank you

All the pain I caused at her.

From the paths I passed I brought nothing to her,

But you look at me such a sweet look

That having nothing, it misses nothing.

Mothers’ Day!

It is the kindness day

Bigger than the whole humanity evil

Purified at a fruitful love

As much as man is being petty,

While Mother sings along to a crib

It sings the hope to the world!