By: O‘roloy O‘roqboyeva
Country: Uzbekistan
When we were children, or more precisely when we began to recognize ourselves, people would often ask us, “Do you love your mother more, or your father?” Naturally, most of us would answer, “My mother.” This does not mean that we don’t love our fathers. On the contrary, it is a high symbol of the deep love and affection we have for our mothers, a priceless expression of sincerity that even our fathers understand. The love, care, and respect we show towards our mothers never burden our fathers. For they too had mothers. Our appreciation and care for our mothers were passed down to us from our fathers.
Indeed, when we hear or say these words, an overwhelming sense of affection fills our hearts. And in our minds, the image of our kind and tender mothers begins to emerge. Honoring our mothers, placing them on a pedestal like a crown on our heads, is a legacy passed down from our fathers and grandfathers.
Mother! This word carries immense meaning within. The more you describe it, the more your heart feels at ease. Many poets have praised and composed poems about it. Great scholars have used the most precious words in their hearts to describe it. We see and feel the beauty of this world, the philosophy of life, and its meaning and enlightenment primarily through the image of a woman, her self-sacrificing heart, loyalty, and devotion.
Mother! What a magnificent being. Only she can endure sleepless nights for her child, tirelessly work for the growth of her offspring, and be ready to do anything for the peaceful life of her family, all while giving selfless love to those around her.
Mother! The one who imparts life lessons, a compassionate and caring being. Someone who can always help both the young and the old alike, always guiding them on the right path. A loving mother who finds a way to everyone’s heart in the family. A nurturing mother raising children who will benefit the nation, a beloved wife supporting her dear husband. Though she is a mother herself, she never forgets that she is also a daughter and is always ready to serve her parents. Perhaps it is her greatness in this that makes us all bow before her… For indeed, the mother, the woman, is the pillar of the world.
It is said that a human being’s pain tolerance is comparable to the breaking of about 90 bones. But only in a mother’s body do two hearts beat for nine months, and during childbirth, she endures the pain equivalent to the breaking of over 300 bones. The woman, who has been one with her child for nine months, offers her life to death and transforms into two beings. Remarkable, isn’t it? She is willing to give her life, enduring pain and even wagering her life. That’s why it is said that “Paradise lies under the feet of mothers.” But what are we doing? How do we treat them?
For the mothers who gave their lives, who stayed up nights and days, who protected us, who looked after us, who were ready to sacrifice everything if a thorn pricked our feet, how do we repay them? When they are upset, instead of comforting them, we become the cause of their tears. Have we done anything to make them proud of us? Our mothers did countless good deeds for us without expecting anything in return. They sacrificed so much for us. Yet, we often make them listen to hurtful words like “You don’t understand me,” “I’m not a child anymore.” Let’s open our eyes wider, friends! Let’s value our mothers while they are with us, never withholding our affection from them. If necessary, let’s not hesitate to tell them every day, “Mother, I love you.” In truth, we should show our love for our mothers not just through words but through actions. If we give them flowers, sweets, and even complete their tasks before they do, they will feel our love and affection.
A mother’s heart, a mother’s love, is like an immeasurable ocean that always surges in waves. It has the ability to see and understand, as clear as a bright sky. The first melody a child hears is the lullaby gently sung from a mother’s heart. When we utter the sacred word “woman,” the image of my dear and beloved mother, full of love, comes to my mind.
It is thanks to our mother that we learned to write and read, to solve various problems, and to treat the people around us with kindness. My mother taught me to value life and every moment of it. She taught us to be hardworking and responsible people. My mother taught us to value people, care for loved ones, not to hurt children, and to respect elders. Each of us is grateful to our dear and beloved mother for all the great things she has done, for the light and warmth she gave us even before we were born. We must be grateful to our mothers for every bit of warmth, love, and affection they have given us.
In a distant village, there lived a sorrowful mother. Like many others, the calamity called war had brought sorrow and separation to her heart. There was a large tree in the middle of her yard, left as a legacy from her only son. Before going to war, the son had taken special care of this tree, loving it dearly. From the beginning of spring until late autumn, the mother would sit under the shade of this tree, longing for her son. She treated this tree as if it were her son, leaning on it, pouring out her sorrows to it. And every time she confided in the tree, she would think to herself, “The fruit of this tree is like my son’s face, its rustling like my beloved’s words.” In winter and summer, the mother would care for the tree as if raising her child. Seeing this, we want to say, “Oh Allah, please protect this tree from the frost.”
In conclusion, let us value the miracle of Allah, the angel on Earth, who has infinite love for us, and who, even though we are grown, still sees us as her children. Let’s not hold back our love and attention from them. Let’s not prioritize work or studies over our mothers. Remember, even if you carried your mother on your shoulders and circled the Kaaba, you wouldn’t be able to repay even a single night of her care. So, let us always cherish them.
In my good and bad times, you were always by my side.
Don’t let your heart be burdened when I am in pain.
Let the skies thunder and cry if they must,
But you, mother, please don’t cry, please don’t cry.
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