Mothers are beings that are oriented on the Hereafter in this world. The reward they obtain through their role and employment in creation, the imbalance between the pains and trouble they go through, and how they are responded to in return make up the clearest evidence of this fact. There is no need for complicated research to comprehend this; a casual glance at what they sow and what they harvest through-out their entire lifetime, what they go through, and what they find in return suffices.

Their faces are as otherworldly as the houris in Paradise, their looks are as profound as those of the angels, and their feelings are as pure as that of any spiritual being. Like the roses of a blessed land whose water, soil, and air have been brought from realms beyond this one, they are so enviable, so lovely, and so fascinating that, if you look carefully, you will conclude that there is a magic within them that surpasses their material being, the world, and what it contains, that even surpasses the mothers themselves.

By probing souls which are sensitive and thoughtful, one is able to find reflections of the sweetest dreams fed by heavenly thoughts within the world of the mother, a world which is always sensitive, caring, and overflowing with affection, and thus reach a melody of pleasure that transcends human imagination. In their atmosphere we are able to be almost constantly aware of breezes that waft tranquility; this is different at night and different yet again in the day. We can feel the mercy, affection, and poetry of the heavens pour into our hearts . . . and in this way, we feel as if our horizons have been completely encompassed by angels and spiritual beings. Who knows how many times we can see in the heart of the night a spirit and meaning that comprises the essence of creation reflected in their radiant, charming faces; it descends to the world, transcends all times and locations, and we are able to sense an immense mercy that is rooted in infinity; this gleams out at us through their smiles and their sorrows. We long to jump into their arms; there is some obscure, vague, yet appealing, motivation to do this. Who knows how many times we have been heartbroken and disappointed, feeling sad and lonely, and then we are able to allow ourselves to rest on their almost magical bosom, which inspires in us hope and a feeling of security. This is a place that is warmer, livelier, and cozier than a nest that has taken wing from a state of rapture to another; we stretch ourselves, made warm by their mysterious whispers.

Each time they press us to their bosoms they become a hero of faith that does not expect anything in return; they fall into an almost magical state. Then we are able to straighten up, looking around us in security and confidence, feeling that we can overcome anything. We even feel as if we are able to challenge everybody when we hold them tight.

A mother is as profound as the skies, and she is a mysterious world of emotions where thoughts and feelings number as many as the stars in the sky, boiling and overflowing like rivers of lava or underground springs flowing every which way. She conforms to her fate-be it bitter or sweet-at peace with both joys and sorrow, without any expectations in return, and she feels no resentment toward her baby. She is such a paragon of affection and faith, someone whose nature has been crystallized by divine morals, that neither the troubles that she experiences, which rise up in her throat like the flood of sweat on Judgment Day, nor the faithlessness of her children, which covers her soul like the north wind blowing, giving her the bitterest pain of separation, can make her submit, or make her give up.

There is the story of a mother: “her blood-thirsty son stabs her with several piercing blows and when the knife lightly cuts his own finger he unintentionally shouts out ‘Mother!’ and she holds on to his arm in return, screaming ‘My baby!’” Ever since my childhood, whenever I remember this story, I cannot help but shiver and I try to feel the immensity of a mother’s affection through this small drop. Those mothers who believe in eternity and the afterlife possess a spiritual and otherworldly aspect, in addition to their physical and material aspects. Within the established world of material and spiritual realms, in the world of the body and soul, their hearts have such an incomprehensibly strong bond with their children that even relationships that are considered to be very strong and fundamental by worldly people amount to nothing more than a pale shadow in comparison. However, it would not be that easy to explain this to those who have felt neither any faith nor the delight of eternity within faith.

Yes, it would be very difficult indeed to relate how their sincerity remains so deep, how their devotion continues without pause, how their hearts are enthusiastic with love, how their looks pour into us, promising care and trust, and how they overflow with such eternal and otherworldly feelings, even though they grow up in a land of mortality and transience.

Think about it, what a long process of preparation they undergo for us, what insurmountable hardships they have come up against and what things they overcome. What challenges they struggle with, and what dreams and weariness they live with. What reveries and dreams their hearts are filled with, and emptied of, what hopelessness and disappointment they suffer. What hardships and burdens they stand firm against and how many ordeals they undergo. What pains they suffer and how they moan. How many times they cry, screaming out and how many times they console our crying. How many times they overflow with compassion and how many times they are in need of compassion. In short, what valuable things they spend for us and what efforts they make, expecting nothing in return.

If there is someone who hugs, cuddles, kisses, and caresses us, who relieves our feelings of sadness and dejection, who shares our worries, who prefers us to eat in her place, us to be dressed well instead of her, who feels her hunger or fullness when we are hungry or full, who bears unimaginable hardships with a superhuman effort for the sake of our happiness and joy, who shows us the way for our body to develop, our will to strengthen, for our intelligence to become sharp and perspicacious, for our horizons to be oriented on the Hereafter, a person who does all these with-out expecting-openly or secretly-anything in return, that person is none other than our mother.

We spend a significant part of our lives in their embrace and in their atmosphere, a place more beautiful than the feathers of peacocks, more charming than the magical world of flowers, warmer and livelier than beehives, more protective and secure than the best of nests. True, we see, recognize, and learn the joy and excitement of being protected and cared for; we learn its practice and responsibility, its system and method. And whenever our needs and weak-nesses overcome us, along with our feebleness, our shortcomings, and the other things that go wrong in life, we always take refuge in our mother, and try to overcome all the obstacles we have come across with their help. When we take refuge in them, they press us to their bosoms with all the warmth of their hearts, always breathing security and confidence into our hearts at times of distress. In such cases, I think that almost all of us have felt as if we were listening to a silent poem, a flood of emotions, a breeze of affection coming from their eyes, their smile, and their gestures.

In those emotional, dreamy nights and days that we spend with them we are almost continually in a dream of bliss. In the bright daytime, we hear the sweetest melodies of life from their bosoms, like a nightingale’s song, and say “this must be real happiness,” at least to the extent of our comprehension.

The mother is the most important element of the event of Creation, the most fertile pillar of the world of humanity, and she is the light of our eye. All of us are bent over double before her, feeling an unbearable sense of debt and the heaviest of responsibilities. We bend over double and we are immensely proud of our hunched back.

The fountains of Heaven, where angels flit like white doves, provide the water that forges the glowing steel of the mother. If this were not true, could the light of her soul ever dazzle our eyes like that? Not only her light, even her shadow burns the moths it attracts-in my own world, I still have not been able to recover from the shock of the deep emotions inspired by that sublime quality-and her light-now that I sense it better than ever-is a mysterious source of light, enlightening our hearts in the darkness.

A mother is a hero of love who keeps the delicacy and valor in her soul abreast when she is considered in terms of her affection, benignity, and grace; she is soft like a feather, fine and smooth as silk, yet at the same time she is tough and fierce as a lioness when it comes to protecting and caring for her children.

Whatever lies under the firmaments above us, her hand is above all these, and the way to Paradise runs under her feet. God has granted such a sublimity and royalty to her that earthly kingdoms are nothing more than mere crowns without status in comparison. Moreover, crowns that rest on heads which have never found a place beneath their mothers’ feet cannot be said to have any lasting value.

O sublime and precious being, who is as fine as the spirits, as innocent as the angels, and as profound as the skies; the realm beyond gives you a value above values, and sympathizes with your shyness. The melody of your fame is heard where angels abide, the song of your life rings out at the skirts of the heavens. You have always lived with the blade of emotions impaled through your heart, wearing the jewel of religion as a necklace. All of us are your slaves, and you are an uncrowned sultana who captures us with her net of affection, faith, and sincerity. If everything has a peculiar spirit, an essence of life in this world of existence, then you must be our essence of life.

May God enlighten you with His light on the morning of the resurrection! May your future be joyful like the (holy) Fridays of Paradise, and may your reunion be blessed!

Among all living beings, it is also man who needs the longest period of care and upbringing. Although most modern legal systems have set the age of discretion at 18 years, it may be said that, with rare exceptions, a person does not reach the age of discretion much before 30 years. Almost everyone, even a genius, needs to consult with others before taking important decisions. Besides, everyone is susceptible to making errors and therefore in need of correction. This is because man is a fallible social being compelled to live together with his fellow-men and co-operate with them. The first school where he receives education and learns social manners is his family.

Especially in infancy, man is in dire need of love and affection. For man to grow into a resolute, well-educated, well-mannered and loving, useful member of society, and a strong, sound, healthy individual, the warmth of a family environment is of the greatest importance. In this environment, the mother has a special place. It is the mother who nourishes the infant with her milk. Probably more than her milk, the love, care and affection of the mother for the baby have great significance for the development of sound human personality and character. 

A baby has the deepest need for its mothers direct care and close attention especially in the symbiotic penod. Even in the most professionally-run nurseries the baby cannot find a substitute for the affection, love and interest its mother can show it. Whereas the baby is embraced by a halo of care and love in the family and attracts the direct attention of its mother, in nurseries it has to share the care of a stranger, however professional or efficient a carer he or she may be, with at least ten or fifteen other infants. Whereas it is embraced, caressed, kissed and played with many times in the family, and is in the lap of love, in a public nursery it is abruptly deprived of almost all of these things in an alien environment.

The first twelve months of the relationship between mother and baby is called the symbiotic period during which the baby feels a deep attachment to its mother. Indeed, in the first six months or so, the baby cannot distinguish its mother as a being separate from itself. It begins to do so only after this period. During this first year of life, the love of the mother forms the foundation of the baby’s spiritual personality and develops in it the feeling of self-confidence. The mother’s love is also an important factor in the development of the baby’s intelligence and in enabling the baby to grow as a social being. Long or short term separation of the mother from the baby gives rise to depressive anxiety.

Dr R. Spitz, a modern psychiatrist, defined two syndromes in children who have grown up without sufficient maternal love. One of these syndromes, called anaclitic depression, arises from short-term separation of the baby from its mother after the first six months. This usually occurs when the baby is placed in a public nursery. The baby thus separated from its mother reacts initially with long, loud cries. If one approaches it when it stops crying, it begins to cry again. After this initial reaction it stops crying and an expression of exhaustion and sulkiness appears on its face. Dr. Spitz called this the period of protest: the baby begins to eat less and lose weight and its physical development ceases. Vomiting and diarrhae may accompany these symptoms.

The period of protest, usually two or three weeks, is followed by a period of depression when the baby is sulky and mournful. After two months, these emotional reactions become less frequent. The baby now becomes uninterested in its environment and in those who approach it. In short, it introverts.

The meaning of these phases of response is easily understood. The baby first of all reacts against separation from its mother with long, loud cries to call her back. After that, it grieves. Then, when it is no longer hopeful of reunion with its mother, it suffers depression and becomes introverted.

If the separation does not exceed three months, the baby can recover and restore to its former state. But if the separation continues beyond three months, the baby does not recover fully and develops a long-term separation depression.

This kind of depression arises in infants separated in very early life and brought up in public nurseries or hospitals for long periods. It is characterized by insufficient bodily, spiritual and intellectual development and growing up as a dissociable being.

A baby has the deepest need for its mother’s direct care and close attention especially in the symbiotic period. Even in the most professionally-run nurseries the baby cannot find a substitute for the affection, love and interest its mother can show it. Whereas the baby is embraced by a halo of care and love in the family and attracts the direct attention of its mother, in nurseries it has to share the care of a stranger, however professional or efficient a carer he or she may be, with at least ten or fifteen other infants. Whereas it is embraced, caressed, kissed and played with many times in the family, and is in the lap of love, in a public nursery it is abruptly deprived of almost all of these things in an alien environment.

Children separated from their families in the early years of their lives and left in public nurseries suffer difficulties in adapting to new environments and circumstances in later life, and give late responses to different stimulants. They develop tics and other involuntary movements such as swinging their legs while sitting, leaning against something, hitting the head against a wall, pulling their hair, playing with their ear- lobes, and shaking the head. Such behaviour in an infant left without its mother is in part an attempt to compensate for the loneliness and deprivation it feels. In addition, some sort of mental retardation may be observed in them. Studies have shown that, even in properly and sufficiently nourished children, rates of susceptibility to illness and death are higher. Compared to their equals in age, they are usually less in height and weight. Although thirsty for love, they respond with indifference or suspicion when they are shown love and nearness.

Some of the children deprived in this way grow up destitute of self-confidence; some become timid, reserved and passive, others become aggressive. They display signs of ill-breeding such as petty theft and truancy. Some of them are disposed to criminal behaviour and violence. They may also commit suicide or attempt it. Studies done on criminals and the mentally ill have shown that most of them spent their childhood separated from their families, deprived of love.

Character weakness and personality defects which arise as a result of long-term separation from the mother are, unfortunately, long-lasting. The younger a baby is when placed in a nursery and the longer it remains there, the more undesirable the effects are.

In sum: the love and care a mother shows her baby is so important for the growth, education and character of the child, that nothing can compensate for the lack of it. The symptoms observed in children growing up separated from their families also appear in adopted children. These children cannot adapt easily to the new family and can never have the same feeling towards their adoptive mothers as they have towards their own mothers. The state of children in divorced families or ‘broken homes’ is more pathetic still.