Reflections on My Mother

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my mother's death. Five years ago last night was the last time I saw her alive as I held her hand and Margie fed her chips of ice. Mom made a joke, and Margie said " I see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"You've got to keep something," Mom replied. She died sometime in the early morning.

I've been thinking about this and her last years. This is a poem I wrote based on my reflections when watching her do her morning Bible reading:


Your hand trembles now
As you struggle to hold the pen to paper.
Ink escapes in jagged trails
Where once flowed smooth, bold streams.

That hand has spent its life clinging to a fragile hope
Dangling by a thread over the pit of capriciousness
Where dreams were snatched from your grasp,
More as an afterthought then anything else.
Those dreams that were your Rock of Gibraltar
Tossed aside like a pebble by the hand of fate.

Years of your life have been engaged in a continuous struggle
To calm the waters armed only with your faith.
You waved your flag of truce between enemy lines
Using words of supplication as pieces of gold
To buy an easy armistice.
(Blessed are the peacemakers…)

Worry wraps around your shoulders like a cloak,
It’s heaviness weighing you down
Until its hem dusts the floor behind you.
Your eyes often reflect the apprehensive gaze of a solitary doe.

Nevertheless, your love, like the yellow sun of spring,
Is undimmed by the toll of time.
Unwavering as the promise of eternal salvation,
It is bestowed gently and freely
Upon whichever prodigal son lays his bag of sins at your door.

I see you this morning, frail and childlike,
Sitting on the side of your bed and I ache.
The pain you’ve received in return for your love.
Poised in the study of God’s word,
Bible on your lap,
You imbibe from the sacred scripture.
The tender heart that is both your strength and vulnerability,
An open wound
From which the Blood of Christ,
Each drop an eternity,
Thanklessly trickles off the cross and into the dust of Calvary.