When the good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of ‘overtime’, the angel appeared and said, “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”
And the Lord said, “Have you read the specs on this order?” She has to be completely washable, but not plastic; Have 180 moveable parts. . . all replaceable; Run on black coffee and leftovers; Have a lap that disappears when she stands up; A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair; and six pairs of hands.
“It’s not the hands that are causing the problem. It’s the three pairs of eyes that a mother has to have. One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, ‘What are you kids doing in there?’ when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn’t but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say, ‘I understand and I love you’ without so much as uttering a word.”
“Lord,” said the angel, touching His sleeve gently, “Come to bed. Tomorrow. . . .” “I can’t,” said the Lord,” I’m so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick. . . can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger. . . and can get a nine-year-old to stand under a shower.”
The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. “It’s too soft,” she sighed. “But tough!” said the Lord excitedly. “You cannot imagine what this Mother can do or endure.” “Can it think?” “Not only think, but it can reason and compromise,” said the Creator.
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. “There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “It’s not a leak, it’s a tear.” “What’s it for?” “It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness and pride.” “You are a genius,” said the angel. The Lord looked somber, “I didn’t put it there.”