Mother's Day

Yo! You all got mothers. I like having a mother. I hope you do too. I heard a poem today that made me want to write a poem. So I did. Here is foreign poem first. Then mine. Then some thoughts about me mum.

Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow--
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky--
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

By William Ross Wallace

So I wrote this:

When I think of mom one scene does stand out,
a night and the week that I was left curled.
Never thought what it took to hear me shout.
She kept my bedside so I'd heal the world.

But beyond one moment, the life she led
was live with love, left prejudice hurled.
Teaching me not to die until I'm dead,
she recited tales so I'd see the world.

Seeing and living are all fine and good,
but hearing the growth was done more to twirl
the lines of life as any good one should.
She taught me music so I'd know the world.

Yet unknown why she gave this life unfurled,
she rocked my cradle so I'll change the world.

And I realized how thankful I am that mom did not get to have one of her dreams (yet). Growing up she told me about how much she wished she had waited to be married so she could travel. She wanted to see Europe and Great Britain especially it seemed. But she got married. I'm thankful because it meant I got all my brothers. Her reflection of that time has made me question many of my goals. One reason I'm in Jerusalem right now is because I knew I couldn't wait. I do not know if I'll be married this next year, but I did not want to have to decide between Jerusalem or my wife. (Should it be between Jerusalem *and* my wife? I'm not sure) I imagine her desire to see the world has encouraged her to accept and excuse opportunities like going to Carnegie Hall and then taking me as well. And hearing her stories about travels, future desires to travel, and places she wished she could travel to inspires me to want to travel to those places. And because she did so much to help us travel it only seem appropriate that we bring the places we go back to her. Gifts, memories, pictures.

I really love my mom. I do not know why women shape my life so much, but I have greatly appreciated it. Mother started it all. I felt safe talking to her. I almost never felt judged or scared. I could be different. I could try things out. I could do stupid things. I knew she would punish me if I went wrong. I knew she could get angry and frustrated, but I know she loves me. And my brothers. And my dad. And her parents. And pretty much anyone I have seen her meet. She has gotten mad at me. She has asked me to go away, to not bother her, to just stop. Now,  the growth I have seen in her ability to handle, love, forgive, and withstand me is incredible. That feels weird to say as her son. It is honest though. She is more patient, more kind, more expressive. She communicates more honestly and completely. She is willing to take of herself but is so ready and able to help others. She is great. I am thankful that she has me.