To My Mother

mother wrote about her mother in a poem after her death. I wonder if my Mother
felt her words were inadequate to describe her Mother and all she was to her.
   I often think about writing about my
Mother.  It seems an impossible task.
  The task of caring for each newborn baby, and
nurturing the baby creates a relationship so deep, neither the child nor the
Mother can ever forget.  The child is
molded by this love for a lifetime.  What
a responsibility for each generation and the generations to follow.
    What joy my Mother experienced from a
Mother’s Day card from a grandson, recounting memories of chasing sheep, making
peppermint ice cream and watching sunsets from a big old tree and playing
checkers on the front porch, I miss those things now, your Grandson.
    One day my Mother told me her Mom prayed
for all her grandchildren by name. What joy to know your name, and twenty-one
others, are raised by your Grandmother to God’s Care is life-changing.
   “Never! Can a mother forget her nursing
Can she
feel no love for the child she has borne?
even if that were possible,
I would not
forget you!
See, I have written your name
on the palms of my hands.
Always in my
mind is a picture of Jerusalem’s walls in ruins.
Isaiah 49:15-16.
    My Mother was an independent thinker…she
relied on God for guidance, not the current culture. When my Mother was a girl,
she was unable to cut her finger nails on her right hand. She asked Grandmother
to help her, the reply was, Teach
   How did
my Grandmother deal with losing four very young children? My Mother described
Grandmother’s Memory Box in her family’s story, The Lines Are Fallen.
  (Author is Anna Daisy Siemens, republished by Anna Payne)  
talked and cried. We heard Mama say, “Gerhard, you have to.” Whatever that
meant…Papa took us, (Alma and me), by the hand and we slowly walked to the
small hay room in the barn. Papa knelt down on the soft-strewn hay and we knelt
beside him. We had never heard such a prayer before as he sobbed these words in
Platt Deutsch: “O Heavenly Father, I have to do this. I love my child and I
want to keep him. And yet, if you want our Paulie, then I give him back to
Mama’s heart
began to mend but she had added more to her memory box. I can see this sturdy
wooden box – unpainted and plain. Mama remembered her four eternal babies on
their birthdays and death days…armed with hammer and tears. The claw hammer
pried off the lid to reveal precious clothing. Among the items were Daniel’s
blue velvet suit, Gerhard’s baby dress, and Hilda’s cap.  At Mama’s invitation we shared her memory day
when she pried the box open to add Paul’s black patent shoes with navy velvet
tops that buttoned down the side. We shared more of these sad, wistful days of
Mama’s memory rituals. After tears and sharing precious incidents, Mama
carefully tucked each article back into the precious incidents, Mama carefully
tucked each article back into the box and returned to her family.
                           To My Mother
When all the evening chores were
done, I heard
My Mother read God’s Word before
she said,
“Be sure to say your prayers and
go to sleep.”
I heard my Mother softly sing to
Of angels winging by to keep
their watch
When God turned out the light on
one more day.
I saw my Mother weep when
children hurt
And watched her dry their tears.
I saw her kneel
in prayer because of my
rebellious heart.
I saw her hands knead dough to
keep us fed
And water garden flowers to feed
her soul.
I saw how God blessed her and
that blessed me.
I felt my mother’s pride with
conflicts won
But when I never tried, her
Weighed a ton. I often felt her
About me when I needed guiding
I felt secure and safe within her
love –
I sensed my Mother’s stubbornness
when hills
She had to climb were steep and
temper flared.
Although at times humanity raged
I sensed a sweet submission.
God’s way won.
She found His peace serenely
leading her
Across the golden shores when day
was done.
And as for me, I praise my
Mother’s God
Until my final faltering breath
has ceased.
This earth may keep my lumpy
piece of clay
When angels wing my soul toward
heaven’s home.


   Our legacy in this life lies in Whose we
are. Who do we place our faith in day after day?   He lets me rest in green
he leads
me beside peaceful streams.
 He renews
my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
bringing honor to his name.
 Even when I
through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
for You are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
protect and comfort me
. Psalm 23:2-4.

Comments? eacombs@att.net