




Mom lived her life for love of friends and family,
Neither asking for nor want for a return.
Her days became a sunlit homily,
With others' joy her joy and main concern.
When we were ill, she also became sick;
When we were cut, she, too, began to bleed.
Of our oil lamp she was the wick,
Drawing her bright flame from our need.
Some say that such behavior's out of date:
That self-fulfillment is the way to grace.
But Mom, without much choice, then chose her fate,
Finding greater truth in an embrace.
She lives on in the sparkle in our eyes:
Laughing, quiet, gentle, loving, wise.
~Author Unknown~


My mom is gone now
to rest as she planned
along with the angels
in God's promised land.
She always told me
she'd sing like a bird
when she reached heaven
for she kept her word.
Gone is the laughter
she shared every day.
Gone are the hugs
the looks, the smile of concern.
But left in my heart
lies the rock she gave,
the strength, the hope,
Our Father's great love.
~Pam~










