All over the world
Mothers wait for their children
To come home-
Their children who have gone away
Into the world.
If those children walk in sorrow,
Or if they walk in sin,
Even though they walk in forgetfulness
Of the loving heart
They are to their mothers
Only as little children
Wandering in the dark.
Some mothers sit with folded hands
And wait- and wait-
Others knit with skillful fingers
Or work with busy preoccupation;
But in the evening,
When lamps are lighted,
Mothers all over the world
Go to their doors
And peer anxiously
Into the darkness.
All over the world there are mothers waiting-
Waiting for their children to come home.
- Anonymous Author
This poem makes me think of Paul writing to the Galatians "My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you."
Or Paul writing to the Thessalonians "... we were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her children. We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well."