关于四代母亲的故事

第一篇：关于四代母亲的故事

母 亲

尊敬的老师，亲爱的同学们：

大家好，我是朱珂宇。今天，我演讲的题目是《母亲》。我给大家说一说我们家的四位母亲。

第一位母亲是我的老老太，是我爷爷的奶奶，老太的妈妈。老老太没有名字，因为老老爷姓周，所以她叫周氏。在我很小的时候，听我爷爷说，老老太生活在那个战火纷飞的年代。日本鬼子占领了老老太的村庄，他们杀了村里好多的人，村里的鸡、鸭、羊几乎所有的牲畜都被他们抢走了。当鬼子来到老老太家的时候，发现老老太家有一头毛驴。当时家里只有老老太一个人，这头毛驴是老老太家唯一值钱的家当，鬼子要把毛驴牵走，老老太从屋里拿出了老老爷用的红缨枪跑了出来，大声喊道，“谁也不能带走我家的毛驴”，日本鬼子拦住了她，老老太用红缨枪刺伤了其中的一个鬼子的腿，那个鬼子抬起了他的长枪，砰地一声，老老太倒在了血泊当中。从爷爷的嘴里，我第一次了解到什么是勇敢。

第二位母亲是我的老太，也就是我爷爷的妈妈。老太是在我6岁的时候去世的，每次我去看她，她都会拉着我的手，把我抱在怀里，再把身边所有的好吃的东西都拿给我，并时不时的问我妈妈“旺旺怎么不吃了，快拿别的果子给他吃”。老太一共生了6个孩子，但她却养大了7个孩子。妈妈告诉我，1960年是我们中国最困难艰苦的日子，老太到一个远房亲戚家中看到他家的儿子已经饿得皮包骨头，奄奄一息。老太二话没说就把那个男孩抱回了家，事后没过多久，那个远房亲戚就有病去世了。在那个物资短缺，贫困交加的时代，老太从未抱怨过生活的困苦，为了多挣一些工分，能够多换购一些生活必需品，老太每天天不亮就去生产队干活，下湖种麦，割草，过度的劳累，使老太的腰在很年轻的时候就弯了下来。勤劳、忍耐是对我老太性格的真实写照。

第三位母亲是我的奶奶，我的奶奶今年62岁。现在每天奶奶最重要的工作就是照顾爷爷，爷爷已经生病卧床5年了，每天奶奶都要给爷爷穿衣服、刷牙，喂饭，洗澡。看到奶奶这么辛苦，经常有人建议把爷爷送到养老院去。每当这个时候，奶奶总是坚决的反对，奶奶常说“爷爷在家，我们就是一个完整的家，爷爷不在，家就没了，所以自己再辛苦也值得。”我从奶奶身上看到了坚强两个字。

最后一位母亲当然是我最爱的妈妈了，我的妈妈是一位很有爱心的人。在我5岁的时候，有一天冬天，特别冷，我看到妈妈在翻箱倒柜的找衣服，翻出来一件半新的羽绒袄和两条毛线裤。妈妈对我说“走，我们去送衣服去。”是给谁的呢，原来，我家楼下有一个早点摊，早点摊门口有一个火炉子。那几天，妈妈每天送我上幼儿园的时候，都看到一个脏兮兮的、穿着特别单薄的乞丐靠在火炉旁，早点摊开门时，乞丐就蹲在远处的墙角，早点摊关门时，乞丐就趴在火炉旁取暖，每天靠捡人们吃剩的食物维持生命。妈妈说，今年冬天太冷了，如果不给他衣服穿，他会冻死的。第二天早晨，我和妈妈出门的时候就看见那个乞丐已经穿上了妈妈给他的衣服，我和妈妈都好开心呀，帮助别人原来是一件可以让自己开心的事呀。大概又过了一个星期，一天早晨，妈妈送我上幼儿园的时候，我们很意外的看见，那个乞丐身上的羽绒服竟然没有了，他只穿着原来的破烂衣服蹲在墙角，我和妈妈的心情都变得很沉重，妈妈说，“他的衣服有可能是被别的流浪乞丐抢走的，我们回家再找找，能不能再找一件棉服送给他”。当我们找到衣服准备再送给他的时候，竟看到那个乞丐身上又穿上了一件棉衣。啊！一定是别的好心人送给他的，原来爱心是可以传递下去了。

勇敢、勤劳、坚强、善良是我从四代母亲身上学到的精神。这种精神也是我们中华民族优秀的传统美德。我们中华民族拥有着千千万万这样的母亲。她就生活在我们的家中，我们的身边。我现在能做到的就是要好好学习，努力学习，并继承和发扬这种精神，长大后为建设我们伟大的祖**亲献出自己的一份力量。

我的演讲到此结束，谢谢大家!

第二篇：母亲故事

母亲故事

《没锁上的门》 乡偏僻小屋里住着一对母女，母亲深怕遭窃总是一到晚上便在门把上连锁三道锁；女儿则厌恶了像风景画般枯燥而一成不变的乡村生活，她向往都市，想去看看自己透过收音机所想象的那个华丽世界。某天清晨，女儿为了追求那虚幻的梦离开了母亲身边。她趁母亲睡觉时偷偷离家出走了。“妈，你就当作没我这个女儿吧。”可惜这世界不如她想象的美丽动人，她在不知不觉中，走向堕落之途，深陷无法自拔的泥淖中，这时她才领悟到自己的过错。经过十年后，已经长大女儿拖着受伤的心与狼狈的身躯，回到了故乡。她回到家时已是深夜，微弱的灯光透过门缝渗透出来。她轻轻敲了敲门，却突然有种不祥的预感。女儿扭开门把时吓了一跳。“好奇怪，母亲之前从来不曾忘记把门锁上的。”母亲瘦弱的身躯蜷曲在冰冷的地板，以令人心疼的模样睡着了。“妈……妈……”听到女儿的哭泣声，母亲睁开了眼睛，一语不发地搂住女儿疲惫的肩膀。在母亲怀里哭了很久之后，女儿突然好奇问道：“妈，今天你怎么没有锁门，有人闯进来怎么办？”母亲回答说：“不只是今天而已，我怕你晚上突然回来进不了家门，所以十年来门从没锁过。”母亲十年如一日，等待着女儿回来，女儿房间里的摆设一如当年。这天晚上，母女回复到十年前的样子，紧紧锁上房门睡着了

《便当里的头发》在那个贫困的年代里，很多同学往往连带个象样的便当到学校上课的能力都没有，我邻座的同学就是如此。他的饭菜永远是黑黑的豆豉，我的便当却经常装着火腿和荷包蛋，两者有着天壤之别。而且这个同学，每次都会先从便当里捡出头发之后，再若无其事地吃他的便当。这个令人浑身不舒服的发现一直持续着。“可见他妈妈有多邋遢，竟然每天饭里都有头发。”同学们私底下议论著。为了顾及同学自尊，又不能表现出来，总觉得好肮脏，因此对这同学的印象，也开始大打折扣。有一天学校放学之后，那同学叫住了我：“如果没什么事就去我家玩吧。”虽然心中不太愿意，不过自从同班以来，他第一次开口邀请我到家里玩，所以我不好意思拒绝他。随朋友来到了位于汉城最陡峭地形的某个贫民村。“妈，我带朋友来了。”听到同学兴奋的声音之后，房门打开了。他年迈的母亲出现在门口。“我儿子的朋友来啦，让我看看。”但是走出房门的同学母亲，只是用手摸着房门外的梁柱。原来她是双眼失明的盲人。我感觉到一阵鼻酸，一句话都说不出来。同学的便当菜虽然每天如常都是豆豉，却是眼睛看不到的母亲，小心翼翼帮他装的便当，那不只是一顿午餐，更是母亲满满的爱心，甚至连掺杂在里面的头发，也一样是母亲的爱。

母亲的名言警句

母爱是世间最真挚的爱。—董宝平

世界上有一种最美丽的声音，那便是母亲的呼唤。—但丁 世界上的一切光荣和骄傲，都来自母亲。—高尔基 母爱是一种巨大的火焰。—罗曼。罗兰 母亲的爱是永远不会枯竭的。—冈察洛夫

老舍说：失去了慈母便像花插在瓶子里，虽然还有色有香，却失去了根。我觉得这句话说明慈母对一个人是非常重要的，就想根对花一样重要。

世界上一切其他都是假的，空的，唯有母亲才是真的，永恒的，不灭的。（印度）

第三篇：母亲的故事

母亲的故事

贵州省普安县职业教育中心

王斌

有一个很远的地方叫故乡，家里有很多很多湮灭的故事，都与母亲有关————题记

石磨

石磨是家中历史刚刚翻过去的记忆，写满了浑黄的沉重。乌蒙的山风吹散早已遥远的故事两扇石头足以撑一部山村的变迁史。

石磨的脊梁上裸着黄土的生死梦，褶皱里裹着故乡的风雨泪，曾经苦难的命运是母亲篡改的画卷。与石磨相依为命的母亲，轻轻扶一扶磨把手，生活便结实了大半。

从茅屋中奔跑出来的呻吟，是山村古老的岁月。那沉重的声音，吟着贫穷与落后，低回的节拍敛聚着无言的痛苦，撞进我的灵魂深处。

沉重的石磨啊！你从原始的农业中走来，只留下一个圆的轨迹。相伴着你的母亲，却永远也摆脱不了一个周而复始的宿命，起点即是终点。走出山村，而我的起点刚刚开始。

油灯

母亲的油灯点燃的是人生，照亮的是苦涩的甘甜。什么时候油灯点亮着，希望的烟花也就燃烧着。一盏简单的油灯，却装入了母亲所有的沧桑。母亲用油灯灯焰熏着她一路走来的历程。

那时家里没有电灯，只有油灯的微亮，一种历史微光的闪耀在那茅屋柴扉的丛林中，开始了燎源之星。

而今，我的记忆流成一盏油灯，盛着儿时的快乐，泪水却流在母亲的额头上，每一根老茧的手指间。

为的明天，母亲才为我点燃起这点夜色下的火种，油灯便成夜里的一把火，在我的枕边燃烧。

在这漆黑的夜里，谁在缝补日月俱无的夜？谁在陪伴身边的灯火。

油灯虽现已作古，但在我心里，油灯是山村里一盏永远的灯火，一朵永恒的生命烟花。

顶针

村口的碎石子路边，母亲总像北雁一样守望着远方，远方成为永远的风景。

故乡的碗盏总盛放着儿时的梦。故乡的小路剪辑着记忆的窗花，母亲用一生织就了一双又一双黑面白底的布鞋。因为母亲知道我一出世，有一天必须走出家乡，走出母亲的掌心，走向远方。

于是，母亲指尖上这小小的顶针，便成了她一生的依恋。昏暗的油灯下，看着母亲用顶针一小针一小针的纳，证明着岁月质朴无华的煎熬。

飞翔在远方的鹰无法再去鸟瞰母亲的守望。可是，母亲知道，其实远方并不遥远，远方一直在母亲的心中。

远离故乡的我，生命有时是个谎言做成的信封，寄出的思情如一个个开始的地方，无法找回。和母亲相伴的顶针啊，早已被封存箱底，留下的只有母亲指节上的茧痕。

（通讯地址：普安职业教育中心

邮编561500）

第四篇：母亲的故事

母亲的故事

从前一个小孩病了，红润的小脸蛋越来越惨白，他躺在床上一动不动，眼睛紧紧闭着。母亲坐在床边，望着奄奄一息的孩子，非常焦虑，眼泪沿着她的双颊不停地流，她的样子看起来真叫人伤心。母亲的头感到非常沉重，她已经三天三夜没有睡觉了。现在，她再也支持不住了，就闭上眼睛慢慢睡着了。梦中，母亲仿佛觉得有人进门来。当她惊醒时，发现孩子已经不见了。原来是死神把孩子带走了。可怜的母亲痛哭着，跑出大门外面，大声哭喊着寻找自己的孩子。

外面的雪地里，坐着一个穿黑袍的女人，她就是夜神。母亲说：“夜神，你看见我的孩子了吗？”请你告诉我，他朝哪个方向去了，我要去找他！夜神说：我知道你的孩子去哪里了。不过，你得把唱给孩子的歌都再唱一遍。你唱得非常好，我看见你在唱歌的时候流出了眼泪，我最喜欢听这种动情的歌了。于是，母亲流着泪，迎着风雪，唱着一首又一首动情的歌。唱的歌多，流的泪更多。夜神听了歌，告诉母亲说：“死神抱着你的孩子，向右边黑丛林走去了。快去追吧！”

当母亲走到这片黑丛林时，发现根本就没有路，只有一片片长满尖牙挂着冰柱的荆棘。母亲问：荆棘，你看到死神抱着我的孩子走过这里吗？荆棘说：“我看到过。我快要冻死了。如果你把我抱在胸口上暖和一下，我就告诉你。”于是，母亲抱起又冰又尖的荆棘，放在自己的胸膛上。荆棘的尖刺深深地扎进她的肌肉，血一滴滴地往外流。荆棘得到了母亲给它的温暖。长出了绿叶，在这寒冷的冬夜里长出来小花。荆棘对母亲说：你的心是这样的温暖，像春天的阳光一样。你应该到湖边去找你的孩子。

母亲来到湖边，湖很大，附近也没有小船，她根本没有办法渡过湖去。于是，母亲就蹲下来，一口一口去喝湖水。她幻想着把湖水全喝干，这样，她就可以去找孩子了。大湖说：母亲，从来没有人能够喝干我的湖水。不过，你的眼睛太美了，这是我见到过最明亮的大珠子，如果你能把眼珠送给我，我就可以把你送到一个很大的温室里去。死神在那里种树栽花。死神说：每一棵树，每一朵花，都代表着一个人的生命！母亲说：“啊，为了孩子，我什么都愿意送给你！”说完，她的眼珠立刻坠落到湖里去了。湖用宽大的手掌，把母亲托起来，一直送到死神的温室里。看守死神温室的老太婆看见母亲，就问道：“你是谁呀，怎样找到这儿来了？母亲说：“请你帮助我找到我的孩子吧，我不能没有孩子呀。如果你愿意送一件礼物给我，我就把你带到温室里去啊。”“他是很仁慈的，所以你应该也很仁慈。我在什么地方可以找到我亲爱的孩子呢？” 母亲说：”我现在已经没有什么东西能送给你了，但是我愿意为你做任何事情。母亲走到一朵蓝色的早春花前，她突然听到了孩子的心跳。“啊，就是他，我找到我的孩子了。”母亲伸出双手，紧紧拥抱着这朵早春花。

这时，一阵冷风吹进温室，死神回来了。母亲请求死神把孩子还给她。死神飘到了母亲面前，手里托着两颗眼珠说：“这是你的眼珠吧，它是多么的明亮啊！可怜的人，快把眼珠放回原来的地方吧！”于是，母亲的眼睛又明亮起来。她看到了这朵蓝色的早春花。她的孩子正朝着花蕊里面走去。孩子周围是一片愉快欢乐的景象，那里没有饥饿，没有苦难，没有忧愁。死神对母亲说：“你是愿意自己忍受失去孩子的痛苦呢？还是想让他回到人间和你一起受苦受难呢？”母亲连忙说：“只有孩子能够得到幸福，再大的苦难我也愿意忍受！请你把我的孩子带进幸福的天国吧！在母亲虔诚的祈祷声里，死神带着她的孩子飞走了，一直飞到遥远的地方。

第五篇：母亲的故事

THE STORY OF A MOTHER.A MOTHER sat by her little child;she was very sad, for she feared it would die.It was quite pale, and its little eyes were closed, and sometimes it drew a heavy deep breath, almost like a sigh;and then the mother gazed more sadly than ever on the poor little creature.Some one knocked at the door, and a poor old man walked in.He was wrapped in something that looked like a great horse cloth;and he required it truly to keep him warm, for it was cold winter;the country everywhere lay covered with snow and ice, and the wind blew so sharply that it cut one's face.The little child had dozed off to sleep for a moment, and the mother, seeing that the old man shivered with the cold, rose and placed a small mug of beer on the stove to warm for him.The old man sat and rocked the cradle;and the mother seated herself on a chair near him, and looked at her sick child who still breathed heavily, and took hold of its little hand.“You think I shall keep him, do you not? ” she said.“Our all merciful God will surely not take him away from me.”

The old man, who was indeed Death himself, nodded his head in a peculiar manner, which might have signified either Yes, or No;and the mother cast down her eyes, while the tears rolled down her cheeks.Then her head became heavy, for she had not closed her eyes for three days and nights, and she slept, but only for a moment.Shivering with cold, she started up and looked round the room.The old man was gone, and her child it was gone too!the old man had taken it with him.In the corner of the room the old clock began to strike;“whirr” went the chains, the heavy weight sank to the ground, and the clock stopped;and the poor mother rushed out of the house calling for her child.Out in the snow sat a woman in long black garments, and she said to the mother, “Death has been with you in your room.I saw him hastening away with your little child;he strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away.”

“Only tell me which way he has gone, ” said the mother;tell me the way, I will find him.“

”I know the way, “ said the woman in the black garments;”but before I tell you, you must sing to me all the songs that you have sung to your child;I love these songs, I have heard them before.I am Night, and I saw your tears flow as you sang.“

”I will sing them all to you, “ said the mother;”but do not detain me now.I must overtake him, and find my child.“

But Night sat silent and still.Then the mother wept and sang, and wrung her hands.And there were many songs, and yet even more tears;till at length Night said, ”Go to the right, into the dark forest of fir trees;for I saw Death take that road with your little child.“

Within the wood the mother came to cross roads, and she knew not which to take.Just by stood a thorn bush;it had neither leaf nor flower, for it was the cold winter time, and icicles hung on the branches.”Have you not seen Death go by, with my little child? “ she asked.”Yes, “ replied the thorn bush;”but I will not tell you which way he has taken until you have warmed

me in your bosom.I am freezing to death here, and turning to ice.“

Then she pressed the bramble to her bosom quite close, so that it might be thawed, and the thorns pierced her flesh, and great drops of blood flowed;but the bramble shot forth fresh green leaves, and they became flowers on the cold winter's night, so warm is the heart of a sorrowing mother.Then the bramble bush told her the path she must take.She came at length to a great lake, on which there was neither ship nor boat to be seen.The lake was not frozen sufficiently for her to pass over on the ice, nor was it open enough for her to wade through;and yet she must cross it, if she wished to find her child.Then she laid herself down to drink up the water of the lake, which was of course impossible for any human being to do;but the bereaved mother thought that perhaps a miracle might take place to help her.”You will never succeed in this, “ said the lake;let us make an agreement together which will be better.I love to collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen.If you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers and trees, every one of which is a human life.”

“Oh, what would I not give to reach my child!” said the weeping mother;and as she still continued to weep, her eyes fell into the depths of the lake, and became two costly pearls.Then the lake lifted her up, and wafted her across to the opposite shore as if she were on a swing, where stood a wonderful building many miles in length.No one could tell whether it was a mountain covered with forests and full of caves, or whether it had been built.But the poor mother could not see, for she had wept her eyes into the lake.“Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little child? ” she asked.“He has not arrived here yet, ” said an old gray haired woman, who was walking about, and watering Death's hothouse.“How have you found your way here? and who helped you? ”

“God has helped me, ” she replied.“He is merciful;

will you not be merciful too? Where shall I find my little child? ”

“I did not know the child, ” said the old woman;“and you are blind.Many flowers and trees have faded to night, and Death will soon come to transplant them.You know already that every human being has a life tree or a life flower, just as may be ordained for him.They look like other plants;but they have hearts that beat.Children's hearts also beat: from that you may perhaps be able to recognize your child.But what will you give me, if I tell you what more you will have to do?

”I have nothing to give, “ said the afflicted mother;”but I would go to the ends of the earth for you.“

”I can give you nothing to do for me there, “ said the old woman;

”but you can give me your long black hair.You know yourself that it is beautiful, and it pleases me.You can take my white hair in exchange, which will be something in return.“

”Do you ask nothing more than that? “ said she.”I will give it to you with pleasure.“

And she gave up her beautiful hair, and received in return the white locks of the old woman.Then they went into Death's vast hothouse, where flowers and trees grew together in wonderful profusion.Blooming hyacinths, under glass bells, and peonies, like strong trees.There grew water plants, some quite fresh, and others looking sickly, which had water snakes twining round them, and black crabs clinging to their stems.There stood noble palm trees, oaks, and plantains, and beneath them bloomed thyme and parsley.Each tree and flower had a name;each

represented a human life, and belonged to men still living, some in China, others in Greenland, and in all parts of the world.Some large trees had been planted in little pots, so that they were cramped for room, and seemed about to burst the pot to pieces;while many weak little flowers were growing in rich soil, with moss all around them, carefully tended and cared for.The

sorrowing mother bent over the little plants, and heard the human heart beating in each, and recognized the beatings of her child's heart among millions of others.”That is it, “ she cried, stretching out her hand towards a little crocus flower which hung down its sickly head.”Do not touch the flower, “ exclaimed the old woman;”but place yourself here;and when Death comes

I expect him every minute do not let him pull up that plant, but threaten him that if he does you will serve the other flowers in the same manner.This will make him afraid;for he must account to God for each of them.None can be uprooted, unless he receives permission to do so.“

There rushed through the hothouse a chill of icy coldness, and the blind mother felt that Death had arrived.”How did you find your way hither? “ asked he;”how could you come here faster than I have? “

”I am a mother, “ she answered.And Death stretched out his hand towards the delicate little flower;but she held her hands tightly round it, and held it fast at same time, with the most anxious care, lest she should touch one of the leaves.Then Death breathed upon her hands, and she felt his breath colder than the icy wind, and her hands sank down powerless.”You cannot prevail against me, “ said Death.”But a God of mercy can, “ said she.”I only do His will, “ replied Death.”I am his gardener.I take all His flowers and trees, and transplant them into the gardens of Paradise in an unknown land.How they flourish there, and what that garden resembles, I may not tell you.“

”Give me back my child, “ said the mother, weeping and imploring;and she seized two beautiful flowers in her hands, and cried to Death, ”I will tear up all your flowers, for I am in despair.“

”Do not touch them, “ said Death.”You say you are unhappy;and would you make another mother as unhappy as yourself? “

”Another mother!“ cried the poor woman, setting the flowers free from her hands.”There are your eyes, “ said Death.”I fished them up out of the lake for you.They were shining brightly;but I knew not they were yours.Take them back they are clearer now than

before and then look into the deep well which is close by here.I will tell you the names of the two flowers which you wished to pull up;and you will see the whole future of the human beings

they represent, and what you were about to frustrate and destroy.“

Then she looked into the well;and it was a glorious sight to behold how one of them became a blessing to the world, and how much happiness and joy it spread around.But she saw that the life of the other was full of care and poverty, misery and woe.”Both are the will of God, “ said Death.”Which is the unhappy flower, and which is the blessed one? “ she said.”That I may not tell you, “ said Death;”but thus far you may learn, that one of the two flowers represents your own child.It was the fate of your child that you saw, the future of your own child.“

Then the mother screamed aloud with terror, ”Which of them belongs to my child? Tell me that.Deliver the unhappy child.Release it from so much misery.Rather take it away.Take it to the kingdom of God.Forget my tears and my entreaties;forget all that I have said or done.“

”I do not understand you, “ said Death.”Will you have your child back? or shall I carry him away to a place that you do not know? “

Then the mother wrung her hands, fell on her knees, and prayed to God, ”Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be

the best.Oh, hear them not;" and her head sank on her bosom.Then Death carried away her child to the unknown land.THE END.