Mother

My mother was accomplished.
Fearless. Honorable.  Faithful.

She sheared wool and spun wool.
She baked bread in a "pizza-type" oven, wood,
no thermostat.   She could feel the right
temperature.

Sewed, embroidered, cross-stitched ,crocheted,
and knitted like a master. Homemaker extraordinaire.

Her thumb was GREEN. Collected seeds and cuttings
made up her garden.  Gardening in urban
environments before it was fashionable.

Strong. She loved us.  Five children all born
at home with a midwife.
Mother cared for my father and sister until
their passing.

Weeds were transformed into exquisite bouquets.

She shared her faith and wisdom with us.
A survivor we all turned to her for strength.

If Roses Grow in Heaven Lord


If roses grow in Heaven Lord 
Please pick a bunch for me.
Place them in my Mother's arms
and tell her they're from me.
Tell her I love her and miss her,
and when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek
and hold her for a while.
Because remembering her is easy,
I do it everyday,
But there is an ache within my heart
That will never go away.