|My mother with 4 sons and (finally) a daughter|
I have often not appreciated or even liked her -
especially when I was growing up -
I had a rather large 'mote' in my eye.
I now apologize to her for those years.
I have learned to respect and honor her.
She inspires me.
I realized how amazing and choice she is.
My feelings at such times cluster into groups of words that some might call poetry (but I know little of meter or rhyme).
At that time I tried to express the positive influence she had in my life and the lives of all around her. I began to write:
My mother was a diplomat -
Oh not in silly ways
With kings of countries
Or queens of nations
Uttering her praise,
The kings and queens
My mom knew best
Were me and Sister Sue*
She never told us no
If a type of yes would do.
Yes, you may clean your bedroom,
Yes, you may come in from play,
And yes you're coming with me
Although you'd like to stay.
If no could be the answer
Then just as sure as you please
She'd turn around the sentence
And put you in a squeeze.
She'd reel off all the yes's
And much to our chagrin
Some where before she'd finish
All the outs became quite thin.
She never let us dangle
Or stay long in a spat,
We came along quite nicely
With 'just a bit of chat'.
* Sister Sue was a nickname any of us might be called.
|Expecting 10th Child|
Mother seldom voices disapproval and almost never criticism. She often tells me ways I am succeeding - even in the smallest of ways - she sees and notes every increment of good. I want to be the competent and genuinely nice person she believes I am and can be. I want to please her and validate her kind and lovingly gentle (yet firm - there is nothing wishy washy about her and never has been) words.
I honor her strength and her power to influence -
to give not take, and to build and lift
not tear down.
She is 'just' a mother.