Winter is usually a time to rest with spring being the time to clean but this cold has just about done me in so I took the time to go through a closet I have not open since we moved in 6 years ago. In it I found a framed picture of a drawing and poem I wrote for my mother. Now I loved my mother but she was…a mess.She was an alcoholic and as an adult I understand why and that is probably why I don’t touch alcohol, other than it taste gross. I guess it is an acquired taste and I have has some of the better and more expensive to taste and I just as soon leave it be.
Sometimes God puts people in our lives to help us heal from issues we have faced and He did so with me with Miss Mary Lou. Miss Mary Lou is well in her senior years but has the most gentle soul I believe I have ever met. The first day I visited the church I am currently worshiping in, she came and sat me as she said she didn’t want me to sit alone. I am one of those weird people who to sit up front, second pew. With ADD, I don’t need any distractions. But the wonderful stories I had heard about Miss Mary Lou and her ever gracious husband never seemed to surprise me as they were always sharing God’s love.
The other thing about Miss Mary Lou that shocked me the most when she first sat by me was how much she looked like my mother, or rather how my mother would have looked had she lived the same age as Miss Mary Lou. They were probably within 10 years of each other in age. I look at Miss Mary Lou and believe this is how my mother could have been if she had been close to the Lord as she also loved people.
So I post this poem I wrote for my mother, probably for Mother’s Day, in May of 1986, along with the tea rose I bought for me. I send it to mom again in heaven in her honor and also with love and honor of Miss Mary Lou for giving me peace from a matronly figure.
Like a rose’s sweet fragrance that floats through the air,
So does a mother’s love as it flows through the home.
Like a rose that reflects its rich vibrant color,
So does a mother when she is loving her children.
Like a rose’s thorns that beckon you to beware,
So does a mother who safely guides her children.
Like the velvety softness of the rose’s soft petals,
So soothes a mother’s hand and voice calms a fear.
Anita Neal 5/11/1986
And in closing as I always remind readers to do – Be kind. Share your gentle softness with the fragrance of God’s love.