Lives are being laid down in the Ukraine, Sudan, North Korea, Egypt, Syria and Nigeria––some mother’s child is dead.
Hate, spirited by greed and power, makes men do the detestable; violating the rights of other human beings––some mother’s heart is bleeding.
Some mother’s child in Nigeria is kidnapped from her school and thrown into a story that will mark her life forever––some mother’s heart is broken.
Every second, a mother is crying on this planet as she:
- Watches her child destroyed by a bomb in a war that she didn’t start
- Sees her child struggling against a disease for lack of proper medical care
- Looks at her child starving from hunger in a world where plenty abounds
- Observes her child drinking infested water that has enough bacteria to kill any animal.
Somewhere, some mothers’ hearts are crying.
Flowers, gifts, travel, and good eating––highlights of frenetic busyness design to show the priceless value of women and the joy of motherhood on Mother’s Day.
“What do you hear, Prophet? Tell me, what do you hear?”
“I hear the wailing of girls who have been kidnapped, sold into slavery, and sexually abused; I hear the voices of the Amintas’, Shjahwanas’, Aishas’, Asmas’, Deborahs’, Ruths’, Esthers’, Kwantas’, Kummanis’, Larabes’, Jummanis’, Fatimas’, Palmantas’, Aistatus’, Kabus’, Yayis’, of this world.” And The Prophet began to cry.
“Shh, Shh.” The Prophet whispered.
A dark cloud appeared, and covering his ears, The Prophet said, “Oh, No!” And he shook his head as uncontrollable tears streamed down his face.
“What is it, Prophet? Tell me, what do you hear?”
“Some mothers’ hearts are crying.”
Yet, we celebrate Mother’s Day.