Calling All Mothers

Otago Daily Times, Issue 26350, 3 January 1947, Page 2

Calling All Mothers

THE AFTERMATH OF CHRISTMAS

By Claire

j Thi» weekly column is written for | | wives and mothers by a mother of I | young children. It is hoped that they | S may find in it a forum wherein they j ( can discuss their problems, air their J | grievances, relate their pleasant ex- I j periences and help one another. |

The celebrations of our Christmas of 1946 are now memories to be stored in the family album of happy days, and Santa Claus has put away his red dressing gown and the cotton wadding that are annually produced to disguise his familiar features. Each year as the children grow older we are certain they must recognise our amateur Santa —perhaps the dressing gown will look familiar. The distinctive shirt sleeve seems so obvious to those of us who have passed the fantasies of childhood. It seems incredible to us when one of our group is always absent on some excuse that such an excuse is accepted without comment or question. Our six-year-old son is always very impressed by such a distinguished visitor, and I can imagine his disillusionment if an older child should inform him, “ There is no Father Christmas; it is just your father!’’ I hope to avoid such a tragedy by suggesting there is no one individual who is the real Father Christmas, but many people- play the part to bring happiness and goodwill to children all over the world at this time, and I suppose he will have to be told soon. It seems each step of growing up comes too quickly, and one regretfully has to keep in line with the developing child. What of the New Year? And now comes the New Year, when everyone thinks they ought to be repenting of their past shortcomings, and we as mothers are looking forward to 1947 with a prayer to be granted a large serving of patience and a never-failing sense of humour to help in coping with our small fry. \ One of my resolutions for the coming year is to endeavour to disregard the unessentials, although at times it may be difficult to decide which are the unessentials; but if I cannot do that then I will be unable to achieve my second resolution to cultivate a tranquil mind and to follow out the last thought in the following poem—’’And teach our sons to make a clean to-morrow.” The Women It is the women who will remake the world. In the bombed and blackened villages will rise new homes upon the smashed foundations; smoke from supper fires will drift on quiet skies.

Once more on doorsteps in the fragrant dusk women will sit with children at their knees, eyes calm with tested courage, voices low with steadfast love and fresh-born hope. Oh, these are builders of the future, and-they build on simple things that neither brutal death nor savage hate can conquer; kettle, bed, firewood and herbs, a child’s cry and the hearth. > Give a woman loss of these things and she fights! Give her but only the aching faith in them and she will make a home of rubble, breathe belief into the hearts of fighting men. It is the women who will remake the world, the women who have eaten well of sorrow. They will sit on doorstones in the unbombed dusk and teach their sons to make a clean to-morrow. Frances Frost. Thank you to all my correspondents for their encouraging letters and for the interesting suggestions and comments to which they have referred. I will be very pleased to refer to these in future columns.