I Still Miss Her

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed…” – Prov. 31:28a

It’s been nearly twenty-four years ago since my mother went home to be with the Lord. I wasn’t there when she died. I was in Northern Ireland, serving God with my husband and our two younger children, Josh and Charity. On Mother’s Day, I don’t think about my own happy role as a mother; I think of her. I think of my children every day, but not my mother (or father, for that matter). But when I do, I never fail to call her, “Bless-ed,” and myself, “blessed.” And I miss her. Though we were apart for most of my married life, I still knew it was possible to see her. Now our next reunion will be in Heaven, and it’s getting closer every day.

Forty-four years ago, I was a young pastor’s wife in Florida, and when that particular Mother’s Day rolled around, as usual, I was missing her. And that year, I didn’t send a card. I wrote a poem to tell her how I felt. Many years after her death, I found the envelope with that poem inside. It’s postmarked May 10, 1969. The ink inside has begun to blur but the poem is intact. It’s not a literary gem, but it is the best efforts of a heart filled with love and sweet memories.

TO MY MOTHER

Prov. 31:28a

There’s a sweet and sunny lady,

That I know so very well;

And I think now how I love her,

More than I could ever tell

Oh, I loved her when she rocked me,

As she sang her lullaby,

“By-o-baby, By-o-bunting”

Till my childish tears were dried.

Yes, I loved her as I older grew;

I realized her worth.

And observing other ones, could see

Mine was a noble birth.

But ‘twas not till recent years,

When voices called me, “Mommy,” too;

(Sweet voices—wanting, needing me)

No, not till then, ‘tis true

Could I ever know a tenth,

Of what my mother did for me;

Could I ever know the sacrifice,

A mother’s life can be.

But I’d rather be a mother

Than a queen in life, it’s true.

And I’d rather hear a little voice

Say, “Mommy, I love you!”

So, I wish that I could tell her now—

This lady faraway,

That I love her more than e’er before,

As I watch my children play.

I still miss her…I always will.