Prose describing maternal love

Motherly love is also the eternal theme of literature and music. Literati write articles on the topic of maternal love, moistening things silently; Musicians will play a clear tune with the theme of maternal love. The model essay channel of the first library network is soft and delicious. The following are selected essays describing maternal love. Welcome to read!

Motherly love is like Buddha: Once upon a time, there was a young man who lived in poverty with his mother.

Later, because of their distress, young people fell in love with seeking immortals and worshipping Buddha. The mother saw her son nagging all day and doing nothing at home, and tried to persuade him several times, but the young man ignored his mother's words, even regarded her as an obstacle to his immortality, and sometimes spoke ill of her.

One day, the young man was told that there was a monk on a distant mountain. He couldn't help admiring him, so he wanted to ask the monk how to become a Buddha. But he was afraid that his mother would stop him, so he secretly ran away from home without telling his mother.

He waded through mountains and rivers, and finally found a monk on the mountain. The monk received him warmly. During the dinner, after listening to his account, the monk was silent for a long time. When he asked the monk about Buddhism, the monk said, "If you want to become a Buddha, I can show you the way. After eating, you immediately go down the mountain and walk all the way home. Whenever someone opens the door for you barefoot, this person is your so-called Buddha. As long as you serve him with your heart and worship him as a teacher, what is the difficulty of becoming a Buddha? "

Hearing this, the young man was overjoyed, kowtowed to the monk and went down the mountain happily.

On the first day, he lived in a farmhouse. When the host opened the door for him, he looked carefully and found that the host was not barefoot.

The next day, he stayed in a rich family in a city, and no one opened the door for him barefoot. He couldn't help feeling a little discouraged.

On the third and fourth day ... he walked all the way and stayed countless times, but he never met the barefoot man mentioned by the monk. He began to doubt the monk's words. Almost to his home, he was completely disappointed. At dusk, he didn't stay, but rushed home overnight. It was midnight when I got home. Exhausted, he knocked at the door with difficulty. Mother's old and frightened voice came from the room: "Who is it?"

"I, your son." He replied in dismay.

Soon, the door opened and his gaunt mother called his name and pulled him into the room. Mother looked at him with tears in her eyes by the light.

At this time, he lowered his head and suddenly found his mother standing barefoot on the cold ground!

In a flash, the light flashed, and he remembered the monk's words and suddenly understood everything.

The young man burst into tears and sat down in front of his mother.

Praise maternal love: maternal love is a selfless force. It falls on our hearts like a drizzle in spring. Although it is silent, it nourishes the growth of life seedlings.

A person's life, all the glory and pride in the world, comes from maternal love, which is sacred. In our most difficult times, it sometimes gives us strength. From the moment we were born, people used sincere blood to dissolve into every blood vessel of their mothers, happily threw themselves into the embrace of maternal love, and a feeling of being masters of their own affairs echoed in their chests. When maternal love takes off, it gives a loving heart.

Motherly love is a cradle and a folk song, which sings unity and spreads civilization. Motherly love is a monument that engraves the past and enlightens the future. ...

Ah! Motherly love, if you are a building, I am your brick and tile. With my little body, I will build your sublimity. If you are a flag, I am a silk thread belonging to you, embroidering a shining star for you with my youth; If you are a garden, I am a flower, a grass and a leaf belonging to you. I am willing to silently exhaust my efforts and spit out plumes of powder.

The thread in the hand of a kind mother makes clothes for her wayward children. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. However, an inch of long grass is a little sentimental, and it has won three spring rays. "We can only repay our mother's kindness with love and filial piety. Filial piety is the duty of being a man. Finally, I bid farewell to the great maternal love with the phrase "sing a love song for my mother in October", but I finally said loudly: "I love you, and I love your broad mind even more.

Maternal love is like water: maternal love is like water, lingering, inspiring me, enlightening me and leading me to the light.

Maternal love, like water, gives me deep tenderness and makes me often intoxicated in the long river of maternal love; Motherly love is like water, sometimes it flows calmly, and sometimes it advances rapidly.

Maternal love is the greatest love in the world. How many celebrities and great men have praised it? Although maternal love is very common in our hearts, without it, we are like a weed and don't know what the greatest love is. I love my mother, flowing in my heart like water.

When I was frustrated and my eyes were blurred, it was my mother who enlightened me and found me a bright light on the road of life to guide me forward. This makes my eyes full of confidence again.

Then my mother turned into a river, flowing quietly.

Motherly love, like water, has cultivated my patience endlessly, making me have my own goals like her, being successful like my mother, and being extremely patient with anyone and anything.

When I do something wrong, the long river of maternal love is accelerated by anger. At this time, I am so sad. I really shouldn't do that. I regret it. I regret it. I didn't go back to do it again until I did it right. At this time, I saw the mother river become clear and transparent, and I also showed a happy smile.

When I am lonely, I sit alone on the bank of my mother river and chat with her. And after every chat, besides being comfortable, I have different gains-the truth of being a man. So I will be happy to do what I want to do and forget the loneliness just now. Keep smiling at life.

When I am successful in my studies, listen, my mother silently applauds me in my heart. Encourage me to continue to succeed.

Motherly love is like water, lingering, inspiring me, enlightening me and leading me to the light.

Motherly love is silent: I have heard two stories about mothers.

One happened between a homeless man and his mother. The vagrant left his hometown when his family visit expired, and his mother sent him to the station. At the station, the strap of my son's travel bag suddenly broke. Seeing that she was leaving, the mother quickly took off her belt and wrapped up her son's trip. She blushed because of impatience and hard work when she untied her belt. The son asked his mother how to get home, and her mother said, it doesn't matter, take your time.

For many years, my son has been carrying his mother's belt with him. For years, my son has been thinking about how his mother walked home without a belt.

Another story happened between a prisoner and his mother. On the day of visiting the prison, two old mothers from poor mountainous areas came to visit their sons. Among the colorful articles of tourists; The old mother took out sunflower seeds wrapped in white cloth for her son. Sunflower seeds were fried, and the old mother ate them all. No skin, shiny like a dense bird tongue.

The son who served his sentence took this pile of sunflower seeds and his hands began to shake. Mother was speechless, lifted her skirt and wiped her eyes. She went all the way to visit her son and sold eggs and piglets. How much did she have to save to make up the return fee? Before I came, I worked hard all day and ate melon seeds under kerosene lamps at night. Chewed melon seeds together, like a hill, grow little by little, and no one wants to eat them by himself.

More than ten kilograms of melon seeds have been on for many nights.

The son who served his sentence hung his head. As a strong young man, it's time to support his mother, but he can't. Of all the people who visited the prison, his mother's clothes were the most shabby. Mother's bite of melon seeds contains a thousand words. The son plopped down in front of his mother, and he regretted it.

Once, a friend of my age complained to me about my mother, saying that she was illiterate, ignorant, ignorant and nagging. So I told him these two stories. After listening, his eyes were hazy and he couldn't speak for a long time.

Mother's heart: My friend told me that her grandmother was senile.

My grandmother didn't know my grandfather at first, and resolutely banned this "strange man" from going to her bed. The wife who has slept with her for 50 years has to sleep in the living room. Then one day grandma went out and disappeared. Finally, with the help of the police station, the family finally got her back. It turned out that grandma was bent on finding her childhood home and refused to admit that her present home had anything to do with her.

Coaxed and deceived, I finally persuaded my grandmother to live, but forgot that I had brought up my nephews and nieces since childhood, thinking that they were a group of wild children and came to rob her of food. She hit them with a cane and protected her rice bowl with one hand: "Go away and don't eat my food." Let the whole family laugh and cry.

Fortunately, grandma also knows someone-a friend's mother, and remembers that she is her own daughter. Every time I see her, I always smile and call her "Mao Mao, Mao Mao". At dusk, I moved a stool and sat downstairs, nagging: "Why doesn't Mao Mao finish school?" -Even He Miaomiao's daughter graduated from college.

Grandma's family is right in this matter. If she wants to talk back to her family in the future, she will threaten her: "If you make trouble again, Mao Mao will not want you." Grandma will be quiet soon.

One National Day, a guest came from afar. My friend's mother personally cooked a home-cooked meal to entertain the guests. Grandma has a very strange action at the dinner table. Whenever a dish is served on the table, grandma will be alert to spy around and sneak around, just like a child who is ready to steal candy. Finally, judging that no one paid attention to her, grandma put a big chopstick dish in her pocket in full view. Both the host and the guests were shocked, but they pretended not to see each other, only grandma herself, as if believing that she had done it very cleverly and secretly, and showed a cheerful smile. That meal was ... it was a little difficult.

After the last dish was served, my friend's mother was so busy that she came out of the kitchen, picked up some leftovers from the plate and asked the guests if they had eaten. At this time, my grandmother jumped up and grabbed her daughter's hand and pulled it hard. Her daughter was puzzled and had to follow her to get up.

Grandma pulled her daughter to the door all the way, blocking everyone's sight with her body warily, then scooped it out of her pocket, smiled and took out the food just hidden inside and stuffed it into her daughter's hand: "Mao Mao, I specially left it for you, you eat, you eat."

My daughter was holding a pile of mixed and squeezed food in her hand. After a long time, she looked up and saw her mother's smiling face. She suddenly cried.

The disease cut off all the connections between grandma and the world, making her forget all the connections in life. All the relatives, the only thing that can't be cut off is the blood relationship between mother and daughter. Her soul has slowly died under the erosion of disease, but it is her mother's heart that will never die.

Mother's job: I once read an article about mother's "salary". The article describes the well-known "Edelman Financial Services Agency". After careful thinking, calculation and evaluation, it comes to the conclusion that if all the work done by the mother is replaced by paying someone to do it for her, the child's annual salary will be as high as 63. Fifty thousand dollars. In other words, the mother's salary is comparable to that of the CEO of a big company.

In fact, even if the American writer Critenden said $60,000, not many children can afford it.

Being a mother is a job, a hard work without any pay.

Maternal love is a kind of detail, as long as we pay attention to it everywhere: a cup of fragrant milk in the morning is maternal love, a warm coat in winter is maternal love, a smile when you are sad is maternal love, and a reminder before going out is maternal love. ...

Mothers do these jobs with lifelong love and enthusiasm, and they never tire of it. However, we often ignore the hardships of these jobs and only glance at the hard mothers casually.

For me, my mother is gentle and strict.

When I am sick, my mother always takes care of me, brings me a cup of warm water and tucks me in.

It's getting cold, and my mother always reminds me to put on more clothes, lest I catch cold and get sick.

When my exam results are not satisfactory, my mother always comforts me carefully: "Never mind, there will be another time."

My mother is gentle at this time.

I made a mistake, and my mother always reprimanded me severely, making me bow my head and admit my mistake, repent and turn over a new leaf.

My mother always pulls me aside angrily and watches me finish my homework when I delay my study because of my fun.

The mother at this time is strict.

My mother's gentleness makes me feel warm again and again; My mother's sternness made me gradually distinguish right from wrong and formed good habits.

My mother is the first mentor in my life, and also a bosom friend who accompanied me to grow up happily.

So I said: maternal love is a light rain on a spring night, which comes gently, goes quietly and moistens things silently; Motherly love is the sunshine in March, which is silently dedicated and paid. Although light as a feather, it is as heavy as Mount Tai.

If you are a ship, your mother is a warm harbor; If you are a kite, mother is a light spool.

Being a mother is the greatest job, and it will always be praised and praised. ...

My mother: My mother is very ordinary, not an intellectual, and has no enviable face, but she gave me careful teaching and sincere care, which made me grow up healthily.

I have been an eccentric child since I was a child, naughty and unwilling to be bound.

When I was over one year old and just learned to speak, I would tell my mother. As soon as dad came home, I ran up and said, "Dad, mom hit the doll again!" " "Dad asked quickly," Really? " Grandma interjected: "Nonsense! I also parrot-learned: "nonsense! "

It's not that my mother hasn't hit me. She just doesn't hit me hard every time, pretending.

However, I am often scarred because I am too thin. Although I can't walk yet, I often turn out of my cradle. Whenever this happens, my mother will feel sorry for herself.

Gradually, I grew up, and my mother seemed to be more and more fierce. I remember that children don't want to come to my house to play, because if I make a mistake, even in front of my partners, my mother won't give me face, which makes me embarrassed and makes my friends embarrassed. Actually, it seems very effective. I hardly make mistakes twice.

Since then, my mother has been dubbed "tyrant" among children.

But my mother is patient and frugal. She never eats leftovers or even drinks soup. She is in good health, which may be because of her good taste.

Mother has a cold and doesn't like taking medicine. It used to be because there was no medicine at home, but now it is because of disgust and fear of side effects. Dad doesn't like taking medicine either, so I haven't had a blood transfusion since I was a child.

My good health is inseparable from my mother's superb cooking. Mom's cooking is comparable to that of a chef. When making silk, she must cut it herself and never use a mold to wipe it. She said that the food she destroyed tasted bad.

Mother never washes clothes with a washing machine. Even in winter, she still washes by hand. When she was very young, the condition at home was not good. To save hot water, she washed it with cold water, so her hands were always red and swollen. Even now, she doesn't believe that the clothes washed by the washing machine can be cleaner than those washed by hands. My father and I often laugh at her stubbornness, but she turns a blind eye and remains the same.

My mother taught me a lot: she taught me to be strong, not to cry when things happen, but to find a way; She corrected my mistakes and let me gradually form good habits; She also taught me to live in peace with others and not to keep others' mistakes in mind, which would hurt myself and others. ...

I don't remember my mother telling me "I love you", but her actions tell me that she loves her family and loves me very much. In her eyes, I am the only one and always the most important.

This is my mother, an ordinary and great mother.

Take my mother across the street on weekend afternoons and take my wife and children home. My mother, who is nearly sixty years old, can't help but be overjoyed. She must go out and buy us some delicious food. Mom said, "when you come back, mom will cook for you, not because you are tired, but because you are happy!" " "I said," I'll go with you! " Mom said cheerfully, "OK, OK, you go ahead and buy whatever you say. "

To get to the market, you need to walk on the sidewalk and then cross the street. It is the off-duty time, and the cars are coming and going in the street, and the crowds are surging. As I get older, my mother's legs look clumsy. She walked beside me with a vegetable basket, gossiping about her parents. I listened to her patiently. Can children still not listen?

Cross the road and you will find the food market. Mother stopped suddenly. She held the basket in her arms and made her right hand reach out to me. ...

In a flash, my heart trembled: what a familiar action this is!

When I was in primary school, I had to cross a road to school every day. Mother works in a packaging factory. The school is in the east of the city and the factory is in the west. My mother is worried about my accident. You have to see me off every day, and you have to see me across the street before you turn around and go back to work. When crossing the road, she always extends her right hand to me, holds my little hand in her palm and leads me across the road. Then he leaned down and told me over and over again, "Don't cross the road when there is a car coming" and "Cross the road with others" ...

More than 20 years have passed, and the small hands of the past have grown into a pair of big hands of men. The mud-rock road in the past has been improved into a cement road. In the past, the young mother had a wrinkled face and thin fingers, but the hand-holding action was still so sophisticated. She has suffered a lot in her life and suffered a lot, all of which were swept away by her hair, but she can never erase her love for her son.

I didn't pass my hand, but stretched out a hand to take the basket from her arms and hold it in my hand. The other hand gently held her hand and said to her, "When I was a child, you held me every time I crossed the road. Let me hug you today! " Mother's eyes flashed with surprise and her smile rippled, like an old farmer facing a bumper harvest of farmland, like a fisherman carrying a heavy fishing net. ...

Mother's Hand: The dream of a foreign land is almost real in MengMeng. I hurried back to Taiwan Province last autumn. When I came back, the scenery in my dream was blurred. Old friends, new friends and relatives are fading away, leaving my mother alone, making me look like Mount Tai and filling my dreams.

That night, I dreamed of my mother. Mother was born in vilen. Backed by sunset, ancient roads, bamboo buildings, cooking smoke, distant mountains and great rivers, I look up at the celestial pole as vast as Yuan Ye. In the blue sea and blue sky, there is a kite like a whale, which floats and sinks. Mother holds the thread tightly in her hand, and the winding thread is her white hair. In an instant, the wind blew, the smoke from the kitchen disappeared, the sunset disappeared, the ancient road disappeared, the distant mountains fell into the boundless sky, and the sound of the river drowned the mother's words ... The image of the mother gradually faded; My eyes stared at her-my hands, those big hands, covered everything I could see with tears. That hand, I walked into here; Those ten fingers are the candlelight on the top of the mountain, which makes my world without the light and heat of the sun.

My mother's hand, in my first strong impression, is to punish my hand. It is inevitable that children will be scolded and beaten by adults, but I don't remember any scenes where mothers beat them. Even the most common spanking is gone. Even so, mother's punishment is worse than spanking, and she has a unique skill. As soon as I said the trick, she pulled and twisted-pulled it up and twisted it very badly. Pulling or twisting may be the usual way for Chinese mothers to give up boys. Except for the cruel family law that the stepmother has no comment on the "smallness" of "going out", probably the general loving mother will always get out of this point under the psychological pressure of wanting her son to become a dragon.

My mother, like hundreds of millions of mothers in the world, is "deeply in love and conscientious" to me. Especially when I was a child, the country was in trouble, the people were robbed, and I left my hometown, which made my mother more strict with her children, eager to love them, and more severe responsibilities. My mother's love for me is not my mother-in-law's love for Wu Mu, but in this turbulent era, my mother, like any Chinese mother who fled the home front, can show affection and love for her children in the years to come. In Anshun, Guizhou, one year, a guest came from afar, and the mother prepared several dishes, which was a golden opportunity for the children to have a "rare sumptuous food". Because I was greedy, I filled half a bowl of rice more than usual, but after two bites, I said I couldn't eat anything. Across the table, I looked at my mother in fear. Her face was calm and awe. She said to me, "Eat it and don't leave it." I shook my head, and my mother's face turned to disappointment and resentment, but she still said faintly, "Then go down and set the dishes." Before the last banquet of adults, I stole a glance at my mother from time to time, but her face never showed. Don't laugh. My mother can't control the long-term pressure when the guests quit at night. She dragged me over, pressed me on the bed mindlessly, twisted my arm and kept saying, "Why can't you eat and still be full?" It's not easy to eat enough. Do you know that there are children begging in the street? "After pulling and twisting, I saw my mother sitting on the edge of the bed sobbing. Since then, there has been no rice left in my rice bowl.

Of course, my mother's hand has its own delicate side in my feelings. At that time, all the clothes, pants and socks of a family of six were washed by their mothers. Pour a pot of hot water into a big wooden basin, then put about three cold water washbasins, a washboard, a soap foot or a piece of yellow soap with heavy alkali, and the clothes will be turned up between her fingers-F. At that time, there was no running water in Anshun, so people who lived in the yard with wells could use it, and those without wells needed to buy water. All day long, there are water sellers walking along the street with two buckets of water (the water is covered with lotus leaves). We belong to strangers who want to buy water. In cold weather, my mother washes clothes in front of the porch under the eaves. She always blushes and washes one by one with difficulty and silently. I often peek at paper windows with holes. Before washing, mother always carefully takes off the wedding ring on her ring finger. By the time the washed clothes were hung on the bamboo pole on the porch, her fingers were red and swollen with cold. When we grow up, we know that in the years after marriage, my mother lived a rich "housewife" life. My eldest brother, my third brother and I were all led by a wet nurse. However, under the baptism of July 7th artillery fire, mother's delicate hands have been thoroughly remoulded and become thick and powerful enough to cope with any hardships.

It is also those hands covered with thick and hard cocoons, under the dim oil lamp, supervising our brothers' study without relaxation. Rough and fragile papyrus books, one after another, page after page, turned between her fingers like a calendar. In the third grade of primary school, I failed because of my poor homework. I remember when I handed my report card to my mother, I didn't have the courage to look at her face. I looked down and saw my mother holding the "Historical Records" hand, shaking worse than myself. However, unexpectedly, those hands pressed gently on my head, and I heard my mother say calmly, "Never mind, I hope I can work harder next year." I can't remember exactly how long I stood, but I will always remember the deep impression left by those hands.

On winter nights, the fire gradually goes out, and the air in the room is more Han Xiao. After we went to bed, my mother sat by the fire and began to mend our clothes and socks by the dim light. Sometimes she wears a thick cloth sole with an awl, and then passes the hemp rope through the pinhole and tightens it one by one. That painful bear is probably the overdraft she got from wearing new shoes on our feet! :Vvop^

However, in those years, there were still many times when my mother was always in high spirits. On this occasion, she will take the initiative to take out Yuping Xiao and a flute brought from Peiping and play a song. The songs that her mother often plays are Stinky Tiger, Lin Chong Running at Night, Dream in the Garden and Moonlit Night on the Spring River. Those hands, jumping so lightly on every scale, are so beautiful and talented.

When I went back to Taiwan Province last summer, I noticed that my mother's hands had more stripes and trembled slightly. The wedding ring looks a little loose. One morning, it was just me and my mother at home. I went to the kitchen to make tea and poured her a cup. When I put the cup in her hand, I saw those hands so close for the first time, but I was afraid to touch them easily. In an instant, those hands became so huge that I found the unchanging strength for Yunyue, who will leave Taiwan Province for three days and eight thousand miles. Mother's hands have never been coated with chlamydia, and she has never rubbed any cosmetic crystals. Only in this way, is a pair of perfect hands.

Motherly love: "The clever animals next to human beings are wolves, wolves in the north. I wonder what wolves in the south are like. I don't talk nonsense about things I don't know. I only know wolves in the north. "

An old hunter, by the honey-thick bonfire in Daxing 'anling, said to me. Hunters are a dying profession. He stopped hunting and became a ranger.

I said, "No, it's a gorilla. Gorillas have expressions, use simple tools, and even communicate with people with special words online. "

"I have never seen a gorilla, and I don't know what the Internet is. I've only seen wolves. The wolf at the junction of desert and forest is the cleverest. That was when I was young ... "The old hunter puffed out his chest as if he had regained his courage.

"Wolf with little Wolf across the river, how to do? If there is only one wolf, it will hold it in its mouth. If there are several, he doesn't trust to take only one, for fear that something will happen to the child he left on the shore while swimming in the river. So the wolf killed an animal, blew enough air into the animal's stomach, and then firmly bit the pedicle with his teeth, making it swell like a raft. It carries all the little wolves, and with the buoyancy of the lifebuoy, the whole family crosses the river together. "

Once, I chased a female wolf with two cubs. It can't run fast because the wolf's feet are weak. The distance between me and the wolf gradually shortened, and the mother wolf turned and climbed to a huge sand dune. I'm surprised. Usually in times of crisis, wolves will beat around the bush in dense vegetation and borrow complex terrain to wait for an opportunity to escape. If you climb to the sand slope, although the wolf climbs fast and looks cheaper than people, once people climb to the top of the slope, their vision will be clear and the wolf will never run again.

This is a strange wolf. Maybe it has lost its mind. I thought like this and climbed up the high sand dune step by step. Sure enough, it is obvious that the wolf is flying far away. I went down the mountain to chase, and suddenly I found the little wolf missing. I didn't think much at that time, so I chased it hard. That is the fastest wolf I have ever seen in my life. I don't know where it came from Like a black arrow stuck in the ground. I chased the sun and killed it. I was so tired that I almost vomited blood.

I skinned the wolf and walked back with a gun pointed. Walking and thinking, what an incredible wolf. Why is it so taboo? Where did those two little wolves go?

I'm going home soon, so I decided to go back to that dune. It's nearly midnight and it's extremely cold. In the pale moonlight, the sand dunes are like a silver grave, and there is no movement.

I don't think it's really necessary. It's just a stupid wolf. I was about to leave when I suddenly saw a hidden depression, like a white candle, rising two strands of smoke.

I ran over and saw a lot of camel dung. White gas is coming out of it. I opened it gently and saw two little wolves that had disappeared during the day, panting evenly under the warm camel dung, dreaming the first good dream after leaving their mother. There are traces of the wolf's tail sweeping gently on the ground, and the work is done very skillfully, which actually hides the eyes of an old hunter like me during the day.

In order to protect her cubs, the mother wolf first delayed my speed by climbing the mountain and won the time to hide the children. He calmly smoothed the trace with his tail and ran in the opposite direction with all his strength to save the child's survival by dying.

The hot air from the nose of a sleeping wolf cub condenses into a curved white line in the night sky and rises gradually. ...

"How clever the wolf is! People trained wolves to be stupid and turned them into dogs. Single dog can never beat a single wolf, that's what I want to tell you. " The old hunter looked at the ashes of the bonfire and said.

Later, I saw in the data that the brain capacity of dogs is smaller than that of wolves. It is a great invention to make an animal stupid for people to use through training.

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