Mother Quotes - She was my shelter and my storm

 

Mother Quotes - She was my shelter and my storm 

“Authority is just and faithful in all matters of promise-keeping; it is also considerate, and that is why a good mother is the best home-ruler.”

― Charlotte Mason

 

“A dim antagonism gathered force within him and darkened his mind as a cloud against her disloyalty: and when it passed, cloudlike, leaving his mind serene and dutiful towards her again, he was made aware dimly and without regret of a first noiseless sundering of their lives.”

― James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

 

“The sound of thunder awake me, and when I got up, my feet sank into muddy water up to my ankles. Mother took Buster and Helen to high ground to pray, but I stayed behind with Apache and Lupe. We barricaded the door with the rug and started bailing water out the window. Mother came back and begged us to go pray with her on the hilltop.

"To heck with praying!" I shouted. "Bail, dammit, bail!"

Mom look mortified. I could tell she thought I'd probably doomed us all with my blasphemy, and I was a little shocked at it myself, but with the water rising so fast, the situation was dire. We had lit the kerosene lamp, and we could see the walls of the dugout were beginning to sag inward. If Mom had pitched in and helped, there was a chance we might have been able to save the dugout - not a good chance, but a fighting chance. Apache and Lupe and I couldn't do it on our own, though, and when the ceiling started to cave, we grabbed Mom's walnut headboard and pulled it through the door just as the dugout collapsed in on itself, burying everything.

Afterward, I was pretty aggravated with Mom. She kept saying that the flood was God's will and we had to submit to it. But I didn't see things that way. Submitting seemed to me a lot like giving up. If God gave us the strength to bail - the gumption to try to save ourselves - isn't that what he wanted us to do?”

― Jeannette Walls, Half Broke Horses

 

“Dad was on the porch, pacing back and forth in that uneven stride he had on account of having a gimp leg. When he saw, he let out a yelp of delight and started hobbling down the steps towards us. Mom came running out of the house. She sank down on her knees, clasped her hands in front of her, and started praying up to the heavens, thanking the Lord for delivering her children from the flood.

It was she who had saved us, she declared, by staying up all night praying. "You get down on your knees and thank your guardian angel," she said. "And thank me, too."

Helen and Buster got down and started praying with Mom, but I just stood there looking at them. The way I saw it. I was the one who'd saved us all, not Mom and not some guardian angel. No one was up in that cottonwood tree except the three of us. Dad came alongside me and put his arms around my shoulders.

"There weren't no guardian angel, Dad," I said. I started explaining how I'd gotten us to the cottonwood tree in time, figuring out how to switch places when our arms got tired and keeping Buster and Helen awake through the long night by quizzing them.

Dad squeezed my shoulder. "Well, darling," he said, "maybe the angel was you.”

― Jeannette Walls, Half Broke Horses

 

“A person who has 'tidied up' has both the words and a tidy area to show for it. It is much harder to find a word that describes the giving-up-things mode of attention a mother is giving to her baby.”

― Naomi Stadlen, What Mothers Do: Especially When it Looks Like Nothing

 

“Laborsaving devices do not necessarily save time, but they increase our expectactations of what mothers should accomplish”

― Kathleen A. Kendall-Tackett, The Hidden Feelings of Motherhood: Coping with Stress, Depression, and Burnout

 

“Sydney's the kind of port that leaves a mark on a sailor," the old man mused.

"Really?" Haakon said, wondering what the man meant.

"It did on me," he said, opening up his shirt to display his chest. It was covered with tattoos! At the top, SYDNEY was printed in elaborate red and blue letters. Beneath that was an enticing selection of names and dates.

"Mary, 1838...Adella, 1840..." The old sailor began laughing. "Beatrice, 1843...Helen, 1846." And then finally, "Mother." There was no date after "Mother."

"Mothers you love forever," he said. Everybody laughed then, including Haakon, though the thought brought some sadness to his heart. He did love his mother forever, and he missed her as well.”

― Bonnie Bryant Hiller, Walt Disney Pictures Presents Shipwrecked

 

“After Nicholas hung up the phone, he watched his mother carry buckets and garden tools across the couch grass toward a bed that would, come spring, be brightly ablaze as tropical coral with colorful arctotis, impatiens, and petunias. Katherine dug with hard chopping strokes, pulling out wandering jew and oxalis, tossing the uprooted weeds into a black pot beside her.

The garden will be beautiful, he thought. But how do the weeds feel about it? Sacrifices must be made.”

― Stephen M. Irwin, The Dead Path

 

“She was my shelter and my storm.”

― Arundhati Roy, Mother Mary Comes to Me

 

“well, I haven't heard from you since you went to pick up the treadmill so I am assuming some big, burly, longshoreman has absconded with you and I'll never see you again. And you didn't even get to run on your treadmill!”

― Debbie Grant

 

“We all make mistakes. But we never stop loving each other. That’s what family is for. Everyone messes up.”

“I don’t,” I said—quickly. I could’ve left it at that. Let this go. Like it really was as simple as one stupid decision and not that I was a bad bet, myself. But I didn’t. Because for the first time in my life I was ready to let her see me. Really, see me. My walls came down. “I don’t.” I bit my lip. “Not when it comes to helping our family. I can’t. I can’t make mistakes. I—I can’t. I have to be here. To fill in the gaps. To fix things. I don’t get to fuck things up. I protect us. I provide. That’s my job.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Mom cupped my face in her palms. [...]“No one asked you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” She swallowed, her eyes shining. I hadn’t meant to make her cry, but hell. I was tired of lying, of hiding. “I wasn’t a good mom to you.”

“Yes you were—” I interrupted quickly.

“No, I wasn’t.” She laughed and the sound was wet. “I did my best. You know I did. But you deserved better. Maybe if I’d been a better mom, you would’ve learned that when things go to shit, other people are there to help. You wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe if I hadn’t failed so much myself, it would’ve left room for you to.” She stroked her thumbs over my cheeks and looked at me—really looked at me. I looked back. She was so familiar, and yet so different. [....]“I can’t be a totally horrible mom though. Not when somehow, despite everything I put you through, you still ended up perfect.”

― Fae Quin, Possess Me! - I Want You To

 

“The odour of ambergris is difficult to define. You belittle it by dismissing it so easily. It is defined as musty and reminiscent of the sea; it is sometimes called the ‘mother of all fragrances’. Ambergris is like a mother, although incredible by herself, she delights in her offspring’s qualities. As an additive, ambergris brings out the best in perfumes and makes a fragrance linger. A house without a mother is insubstantial; so it is that perfumes and certain medicines just do not hold together without ambergris.”

― Shabbeer Ahmed, Djinns & Kings: The Curse of Zoa

 

“But is it godly to punish your subjects for questioning you? Is it motherly to demand resolute devotion?”

― Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth

 

“[...] But sometimes love is poison, and it drips in our ears until our blood runs with it.”

“Bring pain,”he said again, suddenly insistent. “You. Pack. Everyone. I go, he stays away.”

“Do you want to go?”

[...]

He said, “Thump, thump, thump.”

“What’s that?”

“Heart,” he said. “Carter’s heart.”

“You hear it.”

“Yes.”

“It speaks to you.”

“Yes.”

“What does it say?” He looked stricken. “Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. Not poison.” And then he went to her, his head bowed. He pressed it against her chest, his arms hanging at his sides. He breathed heavily and shuddered when my mother reached up and put her hands in his hair.

“There you are,” she whispered to him. “Hello, hello. You’re home. So, no. No, Gavin. You aren’t to go away again. We are stronger together than we ever are apart, and this is where you belong.”

― T.J. Klune, Brothersong