It's quiet in the hospital room.....

I knock softly on the hospital door hoping not to disturb anyone in the room.  Slowly, quietly, I open the door and peek in.  The room is quiet; no one stirs.  I look at the patient and I see the face of an elderly and beautiful woman.  She's White.  She's Black.  She's Indian.  It doesn't matter.  Etched on that face are wrinkles that life put there, formed by years of devotion, joy, sadness, pride and determination that her children would grow in the love and admonition of the Lord.  God chose this woman to be the mother to the children He gave to her--- to mold into His image through her heart and hands.  The covers are pulled up to her chin.  I can see nothing of her other than her face.  But, I know.  I know she's a GOOD mother.  How do I know?  Because sleeping on the sofa beside her hospital bed, having kept vigil all night, is her adult child.  It's her son.  It's her daughter. It doesn't matter.  That person is there because he or she loves the woman in the bed...the same woman that, years and years earlier, sat by the crib that held her child, that listened to her baby's breathing, that touched the child's soft cheeks and marveled at this creation she had a part in. But life has come full circle.  The baby now keeps vigil...  I stand there and hear soft breathing and  I know they're dreaming..different dreams yet common dreams from memories made together in a life that they shared. Their days are numbered and they want to spend the few they have left together.  That is as it should be.  They were together when it started.  They should be together when it ends.  Her work is done yet it will go on as the circle continues...as her love is passed to the next generation and the one after that.....until that day.... May everyday be Mother's Day.