A mother is love..., warmth and peace.
Only love speaks in the language of the mother When we talk about motherhood, we must admit that the subject is important and very delicate, given the responsibilities of the mother towards her children. The mother is the guardian, the educator and the guide. And it is above all up to her that the upbringing of her child, his education, his orientation, his psychological and cultural health, and his follow-up until he becomes a man responsible in his turn before his family. Company. , or a mature young woman who has the data that qualifies her to be a good mother.
This is why today we have chosen to start our first blog article by paying tribute to our mothers. So, allow us to address these words to you to show you our indeterminable love.
Honor to mothers
These words are for the woman who sacrificed so much so that I could live. To the living memory of my heart. To the sun that illuminated my path, and warmed me with its tenderness. To whom I see through her smile the beauty and pleasure of the universe, to her who embraces me every time the world shrinks me and dangers surround me. To my moon that never sets and to my sun whose warmth never stops. To the most precious and dear creature of mine, to my dear mother...
We must admit that without the mother, existence would be a forgotten planet populated by inanimate objects.
She is the sweetest and the most beautiful, she is the purest and the highest, she is justice and wisdom, the bride of the times and she is the incubator of generations. His love surpasses all love, and his beauty surpasses all beauty, and his gift is nobler than any gift...
She is beautiful in all situations, her faith seems deep, her humility seems unique and her love seems sublime.
Motherhood has its own alphabet, like the alphabet of faith in a prayer book. Mother, a blessed spring whose depth has no end and which no drought can reach. Its waters seem fresher than honey and purer than the tears of dawn, each drop of it quenches our souls and gives us comfort and peace of mind.
It is a green vine in which life changes in all seasons, defying times and seasons.
The mother is beauty and perfection. She is goodness and peace.
She suffers in silence, sacrifices patiently and acts wisely. It is the first note that the lips of childhood sing, the first kiss that the child's forehead kisses and the first smile that the eyes of children know. It's the warm hug we come to protect us from anxiety, sorrow and eccentricity.
The feelings of motherhood are like drops of dew that the eyelids of dawn pour onto the cheeks of the flowers, leaves and ears of the fields. Each time has a language. Every nature has a language. Beauty has a language, conscience has a language, wisdom has a language, life has a language, death has a language, childhood has a language and faith has a language. Only the mother's heart speaks all languages, so what secret is there in her and she is the beloved? How can we not honor motherhood when she holds the lexicon of life in her hands, how can we not honor her when she is chosen by God to make her arms a cradle for generations?
So come… We burn perfumes before the altar of motherhood and perfume it with musk and amber. Come…, we collect the white roses in the fields and scatter them on the paths of the mothers, as a sign of accomplishment for their many gifts.
My mother… my beloved….
What gifts do I choose, and the light of your heart is brighter than the glow of gold and every precious stone. No gift can return this grace You are rich in manifold blessings... And before your glory, my mother, I am poor, I am small...
Finally my mother, I send you bouquets of my love and my respect and sentences that come from my heart, and if the ink of my pen cannot express my feelings towards you, my feelings are greater than I write them down on paper, but I just have to pray to God to keep you an asset for us, and not to deprive us of the sources of your love and tenderness.
Peace be upon you, my mother… And honor to all mothers…