A Mother's Day Tribute

This heart, my own dear mother, bends, with love's true instinct, back to thee!

Thomas Moore

She Walks in Beauty

by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless graceWhich waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

God forbid I let this day pass without tribute to my dear mother, whose grace gave me hope, whose hands healed my hurts, whose body knew no wear, whose heart heard my hopes, whose knees knelt in prayer, whose eyes eyed my tears; whose faith stood strong, in my father's death, in her pain, in lonely nights; whose life she spent striving each day to make our lives better, taking my brother, sister, and me to church, each Sunday; who was faithful to her job at AT&T, forty hours each week, rising early to prepare breakfast, arriving home to cook supper; who never once complained about taking me to the doctor, dentist, orthodontist, shopping, or piano lessons; who never thought of marrying again for the love her children; whose empty nest became a garden of roses; who now knows frail health; whose lips now bring me joy, each day, from miles away, with words . . . Are you ok?. . . How's Jeff?. . . Are you tired? . . . What about Steven? How's he? . . . Have you heard from Chris? . . . Are all the babies ok? . . . What did the doctor say? . . . How's the church? . . . I pray for you every day. . . . I pray for all of you. . . . I love you. . . . I'll talk to you tomorrow.

"She watches over the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed . . . Give her of the fruit of her hands, And let her own works praise her in the gates" (Proverbs 31:27, 28, 31).