The following is a guest blog post by a dear friend, Saba Saeed.
“Why is it that under the feet of my mother I may look for the gardens of paradise,while under my father’s I find nothing but dirt?” wondered a young woman learning about the many trials a woman goes through to become a mother.
That night while she lay in her warm bed on a fluffy pillow with a full stomach, she remembered who it was that went out and worked his fingers to the bone to give her a home as safe as her mother’s womb.
Heaven is under my mother’s feet, she reminded herself.
“But I also feel it in the creases of Daddy’s palm,and in the calluses in his fingers every time he pats my head,” she smiled.