Mother’s Day
Mom
A tribute, a memoir, a poem
--
You’re the desire of a toddler,
away from you for the first time,
fearful and bewildered
in a hospital room,
above ice cream or pop,
enraging the nurse.
You’re care and do wrapped into one.
You’re doctor appointments;
you’re reassurance it will be okay.
You’re stops at the bakery
on the way home;
you’re “let’s get cream puffs
I know you like them.”
You’re cheerfulness when you
don’t feel cheerful.
You’re make the best of things.
You’re “let’s have an indoor picnic”
when summer storms ruin
eagerly anticipated plans.
You’re flower gardens
carefully tended,
apple sauce laid by,
vegetables planted, weeded,
harvested and frozen.
You’re God’s tool of provision.
You’re chicken butcher of great skill.
You’re steaks and roasts and burgers,
creamed potatoes and peas,
jello salads and pies pies and more pies.
You’re “You can have bacon if you eat the liver
-it tastes just like licorice
don’t you think?”
You’re butter brickle cake on birthdays;
and the delightful surprise of pieces saved in the freezer
to be eaten six months later.
You’re meals for a king every day of our lives.
You bring the food everyone wants
to holiday meals and family reunions.
At Sunday School picnics
you’re custard and rice pudding recipes
other Mom’s have to have.
Because:
you’re by far, the best cook who ever lived
hands down,
no contest, dispute or question.
You’re stay up all night Christmas Eve
to make sure Christmas is special,
yet when the day is over
and fatigue catalyzes grouchiness,
you’re the cheerful one.
You’re the encore to the day,
hidden (though you say forgotten) presents
when the 26th approaches.
You’re cherry pie on February 22
new clothes and agonizingly endless pictures
on Easter Sunday,
You’re the picnic to end all picnics on
Independence Day
You’re first Bible teacher to generations of children.
You’re “HAPPY happy happy” clapping smiling
preschool children’s song leader.
You’re youth and adult church choir director
You’re go out of the way, at eighteen,
to seek out your high school music teacher
to teach you conducting
just to be sure you do it right
because you are needed.
You’re school cafeteria lady.
You’re “come and help me get the food for lunch
before the school day starts”.
You’re family. You’re fun.
In endless board games
you’re the joy of competition.
You’re daughter, sister, niece and cousin
school mate, life long friend
Aunt, Grandma, Nana
Parent, Wife
Yourself.
You are now and always have been
beloved and honored by all who know you.
You’re aches and pains and ailments
acquired over time.
You’re sorrows and heart wounds
strained by faith and grace and mercy,
but mostly love.
You’re taking help with gratitude.
making the caregivers feel as loved
as the countless one’s you’ve cared for.
You’re tougher (in the best sense of the word)
than any of us know.
You’re submission for higher purpose.
You’re grow old gracefully.
You’re a light, a lamp, loving and beloved
Mom.
Here are some other poetic tributes I’ve written for my Mom
