My mother

My mother works as the hostel supervisor at YWCA in Bangalore, India. Every year they set a day aside just in praise, thanksgiving and celebration for the hostel which serves the needs of so many. This year they celebrated it on January, 30th. During the event, the general secretary of the institution read a poem (which she wrote herself) in appreciation of my mother's service. It moved my heart, so thought I might share.

Who are you? We keep wondering;

Waiting for an answer from every wing.

Our patience is really running short

Trying to give it another thought.

Being alert all the time

Has made this place a prime.

Hostel or our home we find no difference;

Your love and care is our preference.

There are people like you few,

And it's always a pleasure to see you.

Running to fix things around,

Completely dutiful bound.

Cleanliness is all around here.

Happiness is what you share.

Your honesty and loyalty we admire,

And there is nothing more we require.

What should we name you?

There is already a big queue --

All wanting to actually share

The trouble and pain they bear.

Your priority to Jesus in your life

Helped us bring down a strife.

Trying to follow what you do

Has helped us remain true.

The trouble you take when someone is sick --

Amazing to see how you can be so quick.

Your prayers for all is always on;

Sure this is for what you are born.

So what shall we call you now,

Cannot so easily understand how.

Are you a mother in disguise?

Or a sister from paradise?

To conclude you are the only one

On whom the whole hostel can run.

The entire staff and committee knows

That you are an angel our God chose.