Poems, sayings with meaning. Mother's love

You are children of the same nest

Our mother taught us from childhood

Our mother taught us from childhood
And she repeated as an order:
-Don’t forget! You are family.
And the same blood flows for you.

She repeated like a prayer: -
Wherever fate takes you,
You are dearer to me than anyone in the world!
You are birds of the same nest.

Don't quarrel in vain. Don't!
Share love or goodness.
It is very stupid to argue with the Almighty.
We are all given what we deserve.

Stretch your hands to each other,
If you suddenly find yourself in trouble.
Take my love with you,
Let it remind you of me.

And if there is pain or joy in the house,
My relatives are rushing to me.
We are all together! We are of the same blood!
We are birds of the same nest.

Again to our children, our grandchildren
We repeat many times:
Don't forget, dears!
We have one beginning.

Our mother taught us from childhood,
Giving the wise man his command:-
Love life! Live well!
And God will then love you.

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Our mother is an extraordinary woman of kindness. It was thanks to her efforts that mutual assistance and caring attention to each other were forever established in our family. Forever in memory:
-Did you write something to Tonya? Again you are lazy, but she can’t wait for the letter. Polina not only had to write letters, but also sign 40-50 postcards for the holidays.
Our mother taught us from childhood
And she repeated as an order:
-Do not forget! You are family.
And the same blood flows for you.

She repeated like a prayer: -
Wherever fate takes you,
You are dearer to me than anyone in the world!
You are birds of the same nest.

Don't quarrel in vain. Not worth it
Share love or goodness.
It is very stupid to argue with the Almighty.
We are all given what we deserve.

Stretch your hands to each other,
If you suddenly find yourself in trouble.
Take my love with you,
Let it remind you of me. /V. Zhiganova “Mother’s Order”/
I want to dedicate so many warm words to her. I want to write about a lot. Thoughts are racing around. Where to start?
Mom was a believer. Once I came to visit her when she was old. She's in tears.
-What's happened?
-My legs hurt, I can’t stand it. I stood on my knees in the church during the all-night vigil. I begged forgiveness from God.
- Mom, why do you need to ask forgiveness? You are the best mother in the world. She lost her son in the war; Left alone during the war, she kept all her daughters, and there were five of them, the youngest was born in 1941.
- No, daughter, I was not able to save all the children. During the years of collectivization, in the post-war years, I was very weak, I gave birth to sick children, they died in infancy. When in 1929 the Herod of Poperechensky enrolled us in the kulaks, we abandoned everything we had acquired with great difficulty and signed up for the “Red Partisan” commune. They lived in unbearable conditions. Your father-in-law Karp Yakovlevich died of typhus, and your father’s brother Ivan died. I was very sick with typhus, but God had mercy and left me for the children. Apparently he knew that my children would also need me during the war. Two sons were buried in a row. Of the 16 children born, only 9 were raised. And I also took on one grave sin on my soul. When you were born in 1953, I already had a grandson. So after that I had one abortion. She suffered so much that she destroyed a living soul with her own hands. I didn’t do this anymore. Sergei was then born in 1956. My father and I are our joy and breadwinner.
And how can you forget how my mother struggled in sobs when everyone celebrated Victory Day? How she mourned on May 9th of each year for her son, her firstborn.
Memories of Nadya:
Winter 1944. Mom and other collective farmers took the grain to Kamen on oxen. The postman brought us a notice that our brother Petya was missing. The elders decide that mom will not be shown the notice. It’s night, the smoker is burning on the table, we don’t sleep, we’re waiting for mom. Mom enters the house. And I will never forget how our mother screamed, and five hungry girls howled to her in thin voices. I still don’t understand how my mother found out about Petya, because we hid the funeral. And a month later a letter arrived from Petya’s friend. He wrote that he buried Petya right in the battle.

Here are excerpts from documents on the liberation of the Estonian island.
The attack on the largest and most fortified island of the archipelago - Ezel - was supposed to begin from several directions at once. The Estonian corps was supposed to attack the Germans from the side of Moon Island, through a dam connecting it to Saaremaa. The Germans blew it up during their retreat, but were unable to completely destroy it. The repair of the dam lasted 5 days under continuous German artillery fire. By October 5, she became suitable for the passage of heavy equipment, and on the same day it was decided to begin the operation to free Ezel. The troops of the Leningrad Front began to rapidly advance deeper into the island. During the first day of fighting, Soviet troops advanced 25 kilometers into the depth of the enemy’s defense with a front width of 40 kilometers. Over 80 settlements were liberated.
On November 18, our troops, after more than a month of positional battles, managed to break through the Irben defensive line.
On November 24, the island of Ezel was completely cleared of German troops. This completed the Moonsund landing operation

This is how, 4 days before the complete liberation of the island, our brother died in a fierce battle with the Nazis. I read in other documents that the area on the island was swampy and wooded. Probably, the friend did not want Peter not to be buried and hastily buried him.
All the years, the memory of her son lived in the mother’s heart. She told us about the last days when she saw her son alive.
Winter 1943. The children are sitting on the stove under the canopy, the wind is howling in the chimney, it’s cold. Petya and his friends enter the hut, with a man in military uniform with them. Everyone was frozen, they told how the exercises went: they threw grenades, crawled on the ground, learned to conduct hand-to-hand combat. Petya reads a letter from his father at the front. After being slightly wounded and treated in the hospital, he returned to his unit. Petya composed a ditty here:
- If it weren't winter, there wouldn't be snowstorms,
If there had been no war, my father would not have been wounded.
Then they brought a chair and a sieve, made without nails, and used them to cast spells. Will Petya return home from the front? After all, a few days later he, a 17-year-old boy, leaves to fight. According to fortune telling, it turns out that he will not return from the war. Petya got angry, slammed the door and went outside into the cold. He probably couldn’t allow us to see his boyish tears.

Mom saved the lives of all her daughters during hard times. Great woman, great mother. Great people! A great victory!
In fact, she never had time to cry. She worked with pleasure and taught us all how to work. Any work was successful in her hands. The most popular stove maker in the area is her. We carefully store the calico curtains and bed overhangs she made on the sewing machine. I embroidered pillowcases, towels, paintings. I crocheted openwork items. I sewed beautiful patchwork bedspreads. I knitted mittens and socks. She sewed clothes for all the children herself. Not only did she sew, but she also made linen from flax herself.
The loom in her skillful hands produced such masterpieces that her granddaughters still use the paths and rugs she wove.

She pleased us with a variety of delicacies. “Butterfly” baked in a Russian oven, pancakes, pickles from the cellar. And I salted so many milk mushrooms, they were so white and crispy. I made delicious bread. The house was always perfectly clean, the walls were whitewashed with white clay. There was also a brick stove in the bathhouse, everything was whitewashed. Long hair was washed with lye, which my mother made from birch ash in a separate cast iron built into the stove. We cultivated a vegetable garden with an area of ​​50 acres. They kept a full set of households. In addition to firewood, dung was made from dung.
With such a busy schedule, my mother always found time to communicate with us. My age difference with her is 44 years, but I was happy to tell her about all the events in my life.
We received support in everything. She didn’t read lectures, didn’t give orders, and we always helped her with everything. There are absolutely no scenes in my memory of her scolding me. Even when her naughty ten-year-old daughter almost drowned.
Autumn. The river in Poperechka was deep and wide at that time. The first ice and we, three girlfriends, head to the river. Mom walks by to herd the geese.
- Get away from the river now. The ice is thin, fall through.
And she moved on in full confidence that her obedient daughter would follow the advice. But we turned out to be far from obedient. The pictures of that day are still clearly before my eyes. We went onto the ice and tried to ride on felt boots. It bends so beautifully under our children’s bodies, as if we were riding the waves. Suddenly all three came together, and the ice cracked. Valya and I failed in one place at the very depths, and Vera, by inertia, rolled closer to the shore. We grabbed the edge of the ice, our winter clothes were heavy, pulling us to the bottom, we would dive in, then we would emerge, shouting: “Guard, save me,” and Vera climbed to the shore, also shouting: “I drowned my mittens, my mother will kill me.” I see: a tractor is driving along the road, my mother’s cousin Peter is sitting on the cart. He jumped off as he walked and flew downhill. He crawled towards us with a shovel in his hands. I grabbed the shovel, Valya grabbed me by the neck. As a result, I was unable to surface under its weight. Peter orders her: “Unhook, hold on to the ice, I’ll pull you out too.” She: “I can’t, my hands are cramped.” Still, she let me go. Peter made an effort to pull me onto the ice, but he himself failed. Floundering in the next lane. At this point others ran up to our screams.
Mom throws herself into the river, my sister Valya holds her, and my dad comes running with a hook in his hand. A gaff is a long pole with a hook, made for getting a bucket out of a well. Peter grabbed the hook, we followed with the shovel, and with God’s help we pulled out this “caravan”.
I didn't scold. She rubbed everyone with moonshine, sat them down on a warm stove, fed them delicious food and was glad that I was still alive.
All her daughters scattered across Siberia, she was looking forward to visiting everyone. And we loved her very much, we went to see her often. It was so warm next to her.

Mother!
We pronounce this word with tenderness.
We carry her image with us everywhere along the way.
I would like to breathe next to her today,
To press your hot cheek to your graying head.
Yes, it would be like this today: everything is simple and mom is nearby.
And what would she tell us with her mother's gaze?

Maternal order

Valentina Zhiganova

Our mother taught us from childhood
And she repeated as an order:
-Do not forget! You are relatives.
And the same blood flows for you.

She repeated like a prayer: -
Wherever fate takes you,
You are dearer to me than anyone in the world!
You are birds of the same nest.

Don't quarrel in vain. Not worth it!
Share love or goodness.
It is very stupid to argue with the Almighty.
We are all given what we deserve.

Stretch your hands to each other,
If you suddenly find yourself in trouble.
Take my love with you,
Let it remind you of me.

And if there is pain or joy in the house,
My relatives are rushing to me.
We are all together! We are of the same blood!
We are birds of the same nest.

Again to our children, our grandchildren
We repeat many times:
Don't forget, dears!
We have one beginning.

Our mother taught us from an early age,
Giving the wise man his command:
Love life! Do good!
And God will then love you.

03/05/2008

Everything in a person should be beautiful: his face, his clothes, his soul, his thoughts...

A. P. Chekhov

“Everything in a person should be beautiful: his face, his clothes, his soul, his thoughts.”- this is what the great writer A.P. Chekhov once said.
What did he want to say with these? Why did he not say “beautiful”, but rather “wonderful?” This is because beauty is an uncertain concept that changes over time. Chekhov's statement talks about what a truly wonderful person should be. He is not at all what we are used to seeing him.
Today, the stereotype of a wonderful person is something like this: a sweet face, pleasing to the eye, the wind in the head, a typical “reveler” lifestyle. But how can a person be beautiful if every day he celebrates is a holiday? A wonderful person does not live at the expense of others, does not idle. This is exactly what A.P. Chekhov wanted to tell us: everything in a person should be beautiful, including the soul and thoughts. And when the soul is pure and honest, it is beautiful, and a beautiful soul, of course, has beautiful thoughts.
People have many shortcomings, and none of us are ideal, everyone has their own “cockroaches,” and very often there are people who seem beautiful, but only on the outside, but inside their soul is ugly. (from the Internet)

Motherland! She's always beautiful. And in the autumn flames of the forests, and in the snowy January expanse, and in the first spring flowers, and in the golden flood of grain fields!(V. Dvoryanskov)

I was lucky with my teachers!

I'm lucky with my teachers