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.
Friendship
Tea
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
January
26,1977
—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.
For
Janet:
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.
