My Mother's Garden

Three things were held dear to my mother's heart, her relationship with the Lord, her family and her garden. These things were rooted deeply in her heart and were closely intertwined. Her relationship with the Lord was the root and from this sprang the joys of her life. My mother's parents were farmers and she grew up learning how to be close to the earth. She loved the rich dark soil of this fertile valley that I grew up in. From it she grew a beautiful and productive vegetable garden and lovely flower beds that had many roses! My mother loved to take flowers to church, for the altar and center pieces for social functions. She decorated our collars and lapels with roses on Mother's day and gave me daffodils for my birthday in the Spring. She would send camellias and begonias with us to school to give to our teachers. What a generous heart she had. Her soul was at peace in her garden and many Summer mornings she would get up early and spend time with the Lord out there before the heat of the day would come. She had many wonderful conversations with my father as they worked the soil in their vegetable garden. He was such a good match for her because he loved the Lord and loved to garden too! From the bounty of their garden they fed us and taught us how to plant and care for things. My brother and I so looked forward to the spring planting. Dad would make the furrows in the loose soil for the seed, Mom would place the seed in the furrows and cover it over and my brother and I would walk with our bare feet, to press down the soil and make the seed secure. It was so exciting and full of wonder to see the seed fall into the ground and then later sprout into these beautiful plants. During harvest times we would pick green beans and then sit under our mulberry tree and snap them in the evening getting them ready to freeze or can. During those times my mom would tell us the stories of her life and how God met her and helped through all her difficulties. My faith was built listening to those accounts as a young child. I grew up wanting the faith of my parents. The Lord was so dear to my mother and she loved Him very much. Tomorrow marks the 21st anniversary of her going home to be with the Lord and tears are falling on my cheeks as I write this. They are not from sorrow without hope but they come from a heart of love. I loved my mom very much when she died but I love her more now. Over the years as I went through my life and had pain and joy, I was thankful of the things she taught me and now that I am married and I have a little girl I appreciate her more than ever before. I thought back to the times that I was small and could not remember her but I knew how she felt because of the emotion I felt at the birth of my daughter and how I loved to get Mary out of her crib in the morning and feel her little arms around my neck. That wonderful precious love of a child and I understood mom's relationship with me and I knew how she loved me. My mother died of liver failure and I was able to be with her before she slipped into her final coma. She looked up and said, "I love you!' and then she said, "God will not take anything away without giving you something better." I didn't see that for a long time. Eighteen years later I conceived my precious daughter the very month my mom went home and I gave birth to her in the very same hospital. At the time my mom passed that particular hospital did not have a maternity ward but later built one and this annex stood in the parking lot that could be seen from my mother's room when she died. I remember looking out the window that cold February day seeing the snow fall there and feeling so sad. Little did I know I would move to Southern California, meet my husband and after 16 years move back up here! That spot that brought such sad thoughts now fill my heart with joy! I believe my mom saw my husband and my daughter as she drew close to eternity. She loved her family but she loved the Lord more. She went to be with Him where the roses are thornless and the lilacs never fail. My brother wrote this poem for her funeral and he put it so well. I will close with his beautiful verses for her.

I put your cane in the hallway closet

And I thought how the slow decline had shrunk your world,

Taking away shopping, watering outside,

Cooking, eating out, and finally church.

I hung your coat near the living room door

And I thought how quickly you felt cold,

Always asking, "Are you warm enough at night?"

Saying, "You make me cold just to look at you."

I put your glasses in the hutch drawer

And I thought how your eyes had weakened until

You couldn't read your romance novels at all

And we read the Bible aloud to you each night.

Momma, you've gone away, gone ahead to a place

I can't follow just yet, a place, I know,

Where the roses are thornless and the lilacs never fail,

Where you soar and sail in profusion of light,

Where you bask, I know, in the warmth of the light of His face,

Where you see right down to the place we've gathered here.

But Momma, maybe this is greedy, maybe it's foolish,

But I wish you were here, how I wish you were still here.

I want to tell you how my day went and

I want to see your pride on my wedding day,

And I've gotten behind in our Bible reading, you know,

And I want to ask your forgiveness for the times I've failed.

But I can't, Momma, I can't. You've gone away,

Gone ahead to the place I can't follow just yet,

Where the roses are thornless and the lilacs never fail.

February 26, 1988