Dedicated to my beautiful wife
It was here at this very place a long time ago that a young man and his bride to be knelt at the steps of this altar, right where their daughter knelt today.
There they exchanged the vows that they knew they would keep as the priest gave his blessing.
The Groom gazed at her beauty with love in his heart, his mind never pondered that one day she could be the Mother of four.
Back on the farm shoulder to shoulder they toiled. Their days were long and they worked hard. They comforted each other on the loss of both mothers so young. Through droughts and one flood they survived. Their needs were small, but their joy was enormous when at last she really was the mother of four.
Like a mother hen she cradled and nourished them in an old house that sparkled with cleanliness. She worked so hard to make it a Home. For relaxation it was off to golf with the four, with two in a pram and two close by, home after a round of nine. Tired and exhausted, she sat down and retorted, “There will definitely be no more!” cried the mother of four.
With the fourth on the floor and walking about, noise levels rose, but the wooden spoon on tails silence achieved, but all wooden spoons disappeared. When rowdiness returned wooden coat hangers came out, order restored, and once more there was a smile on the face of this mother of four.
At times a command she would utter, one he knew must be obeyed, when she said, “Man you be home early or else.” So off to the tractor, when the sun was still high, and home to the five, or was it forty-five.
Little children with party hats on, mouths full of lollies and things, running everywhere with their screams of delight, it was good to see how they loved the freedom of the bush. After the candle smoke had cleared, then it was home with the lot, load after load.
Fourteen into one Valiant will go, I know, but no more.
When sleeping little heads on pillow lay, they sat close by the fires warm glow. They talked about this day and their dreams of tomorrow, with her head on his shoulder it was not long before little snores of sleep would creep up from the mother of four.
One of the wonders this woman has to be how she could sleep so peacefully, yet hear every toss of a child, or the unlatching of a door by a husband coming home late.
One day she announces, while all were in attendance “It is painting I shall do”. We all agreed, what a great idea – “Start at the back, around the front of the house then on to the fence”. With a look only she could give, off she goes, soon back from town with oils and brushes and things on to canvas went many scenes.
As if by magic pictures appeared of landscapes, trees and places she has seen over the years. Now they are in frames hanging on walls here and many other places – all signed by the mother of four.
At China Plate Painting she is now going so well they’ve even made her President.
So, once a week the plates get painted and jokes get told, and the one who listens and laughs is the mother of four.
Every time one of her brood left her nest we noted that their place at the table for a little while was always set, and we were overfed, one day she remarked, “You know, soon it will be just you and me, three cats and the dog, then you won’t come last,” laughed the mother of four.
When the last had left the nest, she announces, “It’s Tech courses I’ll tackle.”
But alas, the memory has waned, so the study is hard, and writing of notes long. But her will is so strong, and when good test results obtained there was a shout of joy, “I am much brighter than I thought,” cried his mother of four. With confidence high, it’s teaching the disabled she goes.
With lessons well prepared they soon know her as a warm hearted woman. What a delight it is. When they see her it is with shouts of joy and hugs of warmth, this is how they greet this mother of four.
As this writer sits and ponders, as he often does in his search for words, his greatest wish is that the mind would learn what the heart already knows, then this pen would write and tell the whole world how great it is the love that this man has for the mother of four.
Fate must play its hand and the time will come for this life to end but I know when this woman knocks on Heaven’s door the Lord will say, “Enter, pure-hearted woman, your deeds have been great, you preformed all your tasks, you have lived true and straight, you have cared for Mine, and you have cared for your own, the rewards here are plenty for this mother of four.”
It is hoped that in some distant time, when all memory has lapsed, someone will come across these lines and read with joy and be proud to tell that they are akin to this mother of four.
Well, the time has come, for these phrases to end and they have been a labour of love from beginning to end, one I hope will be appreciated by the mother of four.
By the Father of Four