A Mother's Day Tribute

This Sunday in America we'll pause in our hectic pace to remember our mothers and the importance of their love and guidance in shaping our lives.

It is with a grateful heart that I remember my mother, Elizabeth Hare, who passed on to her reward 10 years ago.

Although Mom was primarily a wife and a mother, she was a strong, wise and independent woman long before woman's lib became popular in the '70's.
She had been trained as a Baptist missionary, but after marriage her family and her local church became her mission field. She worked several years as the Director of Religious Education for our church and also several years as a social worker.

When we four children left home, Mom invited us back with our families every two years to gather for a reunion. We have rich memories from these gatherings.

Both Mom and Dad took time to write their observations and feelings about the importance of life and the beauty in their lives. They would have enjoyed blogging.

Last Father's Day (June 11, 2008) I shared some of Dad's insightful and humorous observations about nature on my blogsite.

This blog will pass on some of Mom's poetic reflections in which she shares her joy and love for living.


TIC-TAC-TOE

God opened up this day for me,
And said, Now make it good.
Explore your world and work with love
As every Christian should.
Let not the routine patterns,
Thwart pictures in the mind.
Play tic-tac-toe with problems.
Joy wins the game you'll find.


AT THE ORGAN

I never will be famous
For musical array,
But in my heart a melody
I sing and write today.

I talk to my Creator,
I play Him songs most dear,
I know that He will listen,
Without a critic's ear.

I pour my soul's vibrations
Into the ivory keys,
Not man, but God will hear them,
'Tis Him I seek to please.

The world is rushing madly
Trying to find life's way
While joy and peace engulf me,
As holy tunes I play.


I LIKE POPCORN

Each person has a weakness,
We must admit with shame,
I too confess I'm guilty
In this lack-of-will power game.

At evening when we're resting
Perhaps with friends who've come,
I argue that the children,
Would like some food for fun.

Popcorn - that will please them,
If they don't play too rough,
I'll pop a great big bowlful
But I won't touch the stuff.

The children call out to me,
Hurry up, we can't resist.
Their nostrils smell corn popping,
From play they all desist.

I tell myself, now this time,
Your will must not give way,
But when the bowl is empty,
I've eaten more than they.

Some day I know I'll conquer,
My figure will grow slim,
But as long as there is popcorn,
I'm afraid I'll never win.


MOTHER, MAKE HIM STOP IT!

Mother, make him stop it.
He's hitting me in the back.
Why must I have a brother
That I always want to smack?

Can you tell me why he trips me,
Every time that I must pass?
Make him go outside, Mom,
Weed the garden, mow the grass.

And so it goes - these children,
They bicker, fuss and fume.
They like it. I don't mind it.
I suppose it chases gloom.


THE CRICKET IS SINGING A SONG TO ME

The cricket is singing a song to me,
Ta-ree, ta-ree, ta-ree.
In the darkness of night when all is at rest,
I think he must be free.

Free from the worry of human noise,
Free to explore alone,
To walk around in the silent earth,
And then to mount his throne -
To sing the song that's inside of him,
And tell me to have no fear,
'Mid rush and work and family tasks,
There is always time to cheer.

Says he at night when all is asleep,
Relax and my song I'll sing.
It will quiet your mind and clear your thought,
As my message, ta-ree, I bring.

Yes, the cricket is singing a song to me,
Ta-ree, ta-ree, ta-ree.
In the darkness of night when all is at rest,
And the hour from care is free.


NIGHT

Listen, my soul,
To the silence of peace,
Enveloping night
In its lazy release.

Dream on, weary mind,
Of lofty new aims,
To fire the morn
At dawn's glowing change.

Arise, heart anew,
And gird thyself well,
Awake to new light,
Love's passion to tell.

Guard zealously yet
The hours of the day.
Fill each open moment
With laughter, still pray -
That the evening approaching
From labor is meant -
To offer reward
For each second well spent.

Listen, my soul,
To the silence of peace,
Enveloping night
In its lazy release.


Mom lived to be 89. She passed on a rich heritage of love to her children and grandchildren. Thank you, Mom.