I love you.
I forgive you.
Understand, what comes out of your mouth exposes what’s in your heart.
If what you think and what you say corrupts the spirit of another, that person should consider you bad company and limit their peresence with you.
I love you, just away from my face.
Youc can’t say you love your mother in your heart, then throw her under the bus with your tongue. Holdfast, honoring your mother and father pleases God.
Your disrespect has caused our disconnect.
I’ll warn you once, warn you twice, then I will turn my face from you and have nothing else to say to you.
No matter how big you grow, or who you come to know, I cannot be supplanted or uprooted.
I am your lot in life. Where ever you go, I am where you come from.
Your brain synapses will always lead back to the counsel of my teaching. Your consciousness and respectof me can’t be out grown.
Yes, you need me.
My well being empacts your energy. Our well being allows you to thrive more powerfully.
Who deserves the honor, the house or the builder?
Who gets the blame, the child or the mother?
By design, I’ve honored your life with mine.
You ask, “Mommy respect me too.”
Of course I do.
I’ve shown my love and respect for you by caring for you since you grew in my belly.
If I am fatigued and I’m short with you, your understanding can’t become limited by your sensitive view. Remember you’ll never understand what I’ve been through.
I’ve grown weaker as you’ve grown stronger, still mother dear cannot be usurped, dethroned or dishonored.
Be encouraged by my example of clean living, unselfish giving and the loving home I’ve built for you.
In my efforts to parent, train, instill faith, values, good decision-making skills, and create your path for your endurance; you got slapped, restricted, punished, and admonished to consequences.
It would be foolish of you to focus on the archaic style of discipline, and not acknowledge the benefits to your person.
I don’t have to bite my tongue or lower my voice with you, but you better watch your mouth and tone when you speak to me.
Rich daughter, famous son, our order of reverence can never be un-done.
Play your position, always adress from child to mom.
Love is patient, love is kind, but honor and respect as your mother should also be mine.
Be advised: I am a still a daughter, experiencing your current position. My mom’s love and teaching continue, even though she has made her transition.
I’ve already done what you are still praying to do: That is live to usher and witness my delicate infant into independance.
Now that you are a thriving adult.
My experiential wisdom stands and is ready to consult.
We are consciously yoked and spiritually tethered. We cannot be separated.
I’m not your father in heaven, but I am a strong second.
YOUR MOTHER.
You worshiping and agreeing is not necessary. Your honor and respect has to come secondary.
Balancing the fun and duties of being both a mother and a best friend, requiers bounderies, moral conviction and compassion.
Maintain the integrety line I have drawn for you.
My love is apparent in my living and my rearing of you.
My children are my glory. When they shine I am radiant. Through their brilliance I am also credited.
When they hurt my uterus still contracts. I have a visceral response to their pain and sometimes over react.
I am like their marionette.
Heart strings wrapped in each fist, pulled back and forth, tight and then embraced to their chest.
I hold the permanent, honored and honorable position as their mother.
Sometimes they need reminding of that.
Fruit of my womb. Bitter sweet. I rejected all remedies for my pregnancy. Choosing to honor their lives with mine.
Still.
Fruit of my womb.
Running their race with the strength of my blood to endure.
Each of them enjoying their own splendor.
