In the name of the mother

By Henrylito D. Tacio


An American family of three moved to the coast and bought a house on the beach. The only child of this family really enjoyed snorkeling, so he went out with his friends shortly after the family moved in. The children were swimming and playing, and had no idea of the beast that lurked beneath the water.


Suddenly, a 450 pound alligator grabbed the young boy and pulled him underwater. As the other children ran screaming to safety, several neighbors came outside to see what was wrong. Just as the child’s mother arrived, she saw her son briefly break free of the alligator. He was racing as fast as he could to safety as his mother reached out for him. He was almost to shore, but the alligator was faster and was gaining on the boy quickly.


Just as the mother reached out and took her son’s hand, the alligator grabbed his leg. At this point a tug-o-war began between the mother and the alligator. Finally, the adrenaline in this mother won, and she pulled the boy free of the alligator’s jaws. The boy had several lacerations on his head and leg, and had broken many bones in his leg.   These wounds healed, but the boy would never forget the incident how his mother saved him from death.


“When you are a mother,” Italian film star Sophia Loren once said, “you are never really alone in your thoughts.  A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.”


Washington Irving penned, “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”


Mothers come in many different forms, but children love them anyway.  “I believe that always, or almost always, in all childhood and in all the lives that follow them, the mother represents madness,” said Marguerite Duras.  “Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we’ve ever met.”


There are nine of us in the family and I was born first.  I used to go with my mother wherever she went.  In fact, when I entered primary grade, she accompanied me all the way to the school.  I liked her to be with me in school, so my mother decided to sell something in the canteen as she waited for me. 


When I graduated from elementary, I was an honor student.  When my name was called she stood up, and went to the stage to put the medal in my neck.  She was beaming with pride and after putting the medal, I saw some tears coming for her eyes.  “Are you sad,” I asked.  “No,” she replied, “they are tears of happiness.”


Everyone, it seems, remember his or her mother with great fondness.  American author Robert Fulghum commented, “One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was thirteen was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands – bare hands – and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage.  To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage bag and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon.  Bare hands – a kind of mad courage.”


Abraham Lincoln shared, “I remember my mother’s prayers and they have always followed me.  They have clung to me all my life.”


Edgar Allan Poe himself wrote a poem for his beloved mother: “Because I feel that in the heavens above / The angels, whispering one to another, / Can find among their burning tears of love, / None so devotional as that of ‘Mother,’ / Therefore, by that dear name I have long called you, / You who are more than mother unto me.”


The famous French author Victor Hugo tells this story: “It was during the French Revolution in 1700.  A mother and her two children were driven from their home.  They wandered through the woods and fields for several days, living on roots and leaves. On the third morning, they hid in some bushes but two soldiers flushed them out. 


“The officer saw that they were starving, so he gave them a long loaf of French bread.  The mother grabbed it like a famished animal, broke it into two pieces, and gave one to each child.  One officer saw that and asked the other, ‘Isn’t that mother hungry?’ ‘No,’ replied the captain, ‘it’s because she’s a mother.’”


“A mother,” says Tenneva Jordan, “is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”


When was the last time you said “I love you” to your mother?  The story below might give you an idea. 


A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be wired to his mother who lived 125 kilometers away. As he got out of his car, he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing. He asked her what was wrong and she replied, “I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother. But I only have ten pesos, and a rose costs twenty pesos.”


The man smiled and said, “Come on in with me. I’ll buy you a rose.” He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother’s flowers.  As they were leaving, he offered the girl a ride home. She said, “Yes, please! You can take me to my mother.”


She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.

The man returned to the flower shop, cancelled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the 125 kilometers to his mother’s house.


“I love my mother as the trees love water and sunshine – she helps me grow, prosper, and reach great heights,” says Adabella Radici.


For comments, write me at



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