Sunday, May 11, 2014
Over the years, I have written poems about my children. The writing came so easily—sometimes being awakened from deep sleep, with phrases or verses already formed—that I consider them inspired.
Poetry is not my forte, but my poems are heart-felt, oozing with love for my precious gifts from God.
There are three additional children for whom I've not written poems, but I love them as dearly as my birth-children:
Kristy: You are this mother's dream of a wonderful wife for my son, an awesome mother to my grandchildren, and a precious daughter of my heart.
Evan Jason: Thank you for naming me Nina, for being so entertaining, loving, and so much like your father.
Joshua David: I love your generous heart, your delicious chocolate-coated kisses, and your propensity for climbing (just like your daddy).
This Little Boy
In honor of Matthew Joel
—“gift of God”—
This little boy with eyes of blue,
Who stole my heart when he was new;
Now stands and gazes down at me,
Who once came only to my knee.
This little boy with curious heart,
Who frazzled me (it was his art!);
Now calmly sits and contemplates
Maturity, on which he waits.
This little boy with hugs galore,
Whose fleeting kiss made my heart soar;
Now shuns a motherly embrace,
Delivers no more hearts with lace.
This little boy of energy,
Who climbed all things as if a tree;
Now concentrates his power that be,
Discovering truths in all he sees.
This little boy who stole my heart,
With whom reluctantly I part;
Now carries off a mother’s tear,
But memories will hold him near.
In honor of Bethany Joy
—the joy of my heart—
Sipping Friendship Tea with me,
Reading Riley’s poetry;
Lost together in the rhyme,
Losing track of evening’s time.
Stumbling over words so quaint,
Enjoying pictures that they paint.
Sharing tales of friendship true,
Discovering friends in me, and you.
A poetess and protégé,
Create an image on this day,
That finds its way into my poem,
That springs from mother-heart’s rich loam.
My Special Love
In loving memory of Jason David
—my special love—
T’was deep one night you beckoned me
“It’s time,” you said, “for me to be.”
We hastened through the cold and wind
To care of doctor—our neighbor, and friend.
Excited, fearful, innocent, on shaky knee,
To hospital, “Daddy” hastened “we.”
With morning’s light you did arrive,
With haste and urgency did doctors strive,
Your tiny heart and lungs to awake,
With many a prayer said for your sake.
Mid afternoon, the angels came,
(the doctors said, “no one’s to blame.”)
And winged one tiny soul above,
A part of me—my special love.
My heart holds dear over many a year,
My special child, midst many a tear.
A mother’s heart, fragile, yet true,
A love so heavy, when only new.
Arms outstretched, so full of love;
No one to cuddle, no one to love.
Through stages of grief I stumbled slow.
To husband’s arms daily I go.
Tears without number; waves, crashing grief;
Storm so incessant, beyond my belief.
Healing so slowly, fragile and frail,
Through numberless days of existence I sail.
Feeling so weak, like Paul of Tarsus,
I gradually discover a path to catharsis.
Leaning heavily on Father above,
With wide-eyed wonder, discover His love.
He brought me through and drew me close,
Blessing me with longed for repose.
One tiny son, destined to die,
Turned my eyes upward toward heavens on high.
Like God’s own Son, he leadeth me,
To Father’s arms and the peace I now see.
My Special Love—Part 2
In memory of Abigail Hudson, June 10, 1986
Precious child of Janet Hudson.
For whom God awakened me, in early
morning hours, to write, My Special Love,
in its entirety.
One tiny hand reaching out to you,
leading you onward to a world anew.
When once again angels open heaven’s door,
Jesus will hand you the gilt you adore.
From mother to mother our hearts will convey,
Our pain was well worth it—
For the joy of this day.