Editorial January 11, 1993 Issue

His mother love

Mary Metzner Trammell

She jumped up and down with sheer glee as the plane taxied up to the gate. This grown woman, whom most people would call mentally handicapped, clutched her mother's arm and waited breathlessly as the passengers filed one by one into the terminal.

Finally, she spotted her father. And she ran toward him with a shriek of joy. The look on her face was beautiful beyond words, beautiful enough to make the woman next to me start crying. "It's as if angels are all over her face!" she said.

What touched me the most was the look on the father's face as he put his arms around his daughter. His countenance beamed with unforgettable love—the kind of tender, overflowing, long-suffering love that many people call "mother love." The kind of love that never holds back, never runs out. The kind of constant love that comes straight from God, the Giver of all true love.

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