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I am sorry I haven't been a more perfect Mom.
A more giving and unselfish one.
But please know that I love you.
Despite my shortcomings.
I may not be all you expect me to be.
And sometimes I don't have a great memory.
But please know that I love you.
And that God is working on me.
I pray someday you'll understand,
that I too, am only human.
I've done the best I could,
with who I am and what my life has been.
Please know that I love you,
and pray God's blessings upon you.
I will never stop being your mother,
even if I don't always get it right.
Please be gracious to me,
my precious, miracle children.
And forgive my weaknesses.
I pray that when you rise up one day,
you will call me blessed. (Prov. 31:28).

(C) Elizabeth T., 2016
For Mary, Andreas, and Annabeth.
A poem... to give you... is it enough?

As my heart yields to your wounds, you have given me five hundred scars to wear; I will gladly bear another five hundred for you! Is it enough?

I have snatched away five hundred stars from the firmament above, slaying five hundred angels who guarded their celestial light! Is it enough?

Would five hundred days make any difference to you? To set my heels in the clay and march forward step by step to you until you saw my perseverance, is it enough?

Five hundred souls you have sifted through to discover just how inadequate they are for you. I ask you: is it enough?

**My heart is yours... is it enough?
1 Corinthians 13:4-8
______________________
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails...
No agony is greater than the yoke
Men fastened round my love
Her lines they bounded with metres
Her flow they have blocked with patterns and rhymes
Her end they constrain with rules
I crave the freedom to paint her as I deem fit
She's born of my thoughts and feelings
Sorrow would be less so
If there were rules to grieving
I'm breaking her rules
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