My mother and father are not only good parents, they are excellent parents because they have been greatly tried and are continuing to be tried. Having a severely disabled and dependent child makes their lives difficult and abnormal. (Will they even get to go out and celebrate their anniversary?) Their lives are not what they hoped for or planned, because their youngest daughter is not what they hoped for or planned. And yet… and yet they are beautiful people living a joyful life.
They didn’t try to find a way to be like everyone else even though their lives weren’t like everyone else’s – they chose to sacrifice, to give of themselves selflessly and generously. Therein lies their greatness, their excellence – and their beauty and joy. I can never thank them enough. I can never repay them. But, that’s why they are so great – because their love is so completely unconditional.
As we have just passed the celebration of Mother’s Day here in the United States and my parents’ wedding anniversary is coming soon, I’m sharing some of my own poetry dedicated to motherhood, and, most specifically, my mother. I love you, Mom and Dad!
Within her hands, now rough and worn,
A little girl once held the morn,
Once swept the stars and shook the tree,
And played with possibility.
Then, clutching fists could only pray
When hopeful dreamings slipped away,
And learn to beat and dig and tear,
To toughen skin and smother care.
And yet, within her hands I find
The strength to live outside my mind;
The world she formed with blood and pain
Has housed a little girl again,
Misshapen, yes, and less than planned,
But never lost within her hand.
I learned from my Mother
forgiveness and forbearance…
even in the deep of dark,
before my eyes could see or ears could hear,
she was putting up with the difficulties
of my life in hers, in
Faith and Hope
that all things work together for the good
and pain can bring forth joy…
In the giving of herself always,
my mother’s gift to me
is the lesson and fruit of
generous and self-giving
© 2016 Christina Chase
I don't call myself a poet — but the beating of my heart is poetry. I don't call myself a theologian — but the light of my mind seeks the Divine. Who I am is a Child of God, a Divine Creation, a person devoted to being fully human, fully alive.