Mothers. When you need them the most … there they are.
Last week at the ball yard, they were everywhere. Shouting words of encouragement to their sons and daughters — to no end. Just knowing: they’re there, is comforting.
A mother’s love is like a camp fire, burning long and brilliantly. She is the green grass and the sun that makes the bats come alive. And … the energy to hurl strike after strike. A mother’s heart is pure, much like a northern Michigan lake. Endless and devoted … for nothing can dismantle it.
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