The Power Of A Mother’s Touch!

It is a strong memory attached to an event that happened in my lfe over sixty years ago! My Mother had driven us eight kids in a station wagon across the country one summer in the mid to early sixties. We left our home in Maryland and drove all the way to Wendall, Idaho, the hometown of my parents, where my relatives lived. I was somewhere between six and eight years old. We were staying at my Aunt and Uncle’s house when one of the older cousins, Jack, who was around 14-16 years of age, got the bright idea to have a number of us small kids go on a bareback horse ride with him at the reins.

So, with no parental approval, we followed him out to the back of the yard, and he, one by one, helped me and several of my siblings get on this bareback horse for a ride. Getting on that horse was thrilling for me as I wrapped my arms around my brother, who was in front of me, and my little sister, who was hugging me from behind. We were soon on our way, galloping along, when I felt my little sister start to pull me to the left, and I hung on to my brother, who was hanging onto another sister, who was hanging onto Jack, who had the reins. Well, it wasn’t too long before we all started to slide off that galloping horse, which we did, causing potential severe injury to us all. I think Jack hit a telephone pole trying to hang onto the horse, and I recall he was severely punished for his handling of the whole “bareback” incident.

The only other memory I have of that event, which has stayed with me to this day, was finding myself on the floor of my Aunt’s living room hardwood floor. My siblings and I were all laid out crying with bruises and cuts all over our bodies. I was lying there crying, and I looked up to see my Mom’s older sister, who was dabbing my face with a wet cloth and stoking my face with her hand ever so lovingly. She looked so much like my Mom. And then I turned my head and saw my bother, who, if I recall correctly, got knock-out by the fall. My Mother was wiping his forehead with a wet cloth and giving him the same attention my Aunt was giving to me. And that is a memory so burned into my mind because I felt an emotion stir in my soul that I don’t ever recall feeling. And one that I can say I rarely, if ever, feel in my soul. In my entire life, I am not sure this emotion has ever reared its ugly head; it was jealousy! And even though I loved my Aunt, there is nothing that compares to the warmth and love of a Mother’s arms. Watching her comfort my brother, I remember wanting to yell, “Mom, please come to me!” And that is why this story has stayed in my heart.

No power on earth heals a person’s broken mind, heart, soul, and spirit than the touch of a loving Mother. What is the power of a loving Mother’s touch? Nations rise and fall with it and there is no doubt in my mind about it!

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