A Look Back - Happy Mother's Day

Mother's day is a little bittersweet this year, but there are always good memories to sustain us. I won't repeat the whole story here, as you can look back a few years by clicking on the link below. That day, when I presented my mom with her honorary high school diploma, and hopefully helped heal an old wound from the 1930's, is one of my more cherished moments from recent times.

Brenda Steunenberg Richards-The Graduate-Class of 1936-Honorary Diploma September 2004

Fortunately, I had the videotape rolling when I presented her with the framed diploma you see in this picture. I think I will get the video out, view it again this mother day, shed a few more tears...and remember all the gifts she presented to me.

Have a Happy Mother's Day weekend everybody. John

More....
Brenda R. Richards (in progress)

My sister Kris entered a comment on this post that consisted of an excerpt of a poem she wrote. It's too good to only have a part of it and and might be missed by folks who don't click on the individual post or the comment link. So here it is below in its entirety. jr

I (Kris) was going through some things and discovered a poem I had written to Mom in 1971, I was about 23 and and the very young mother of a son. On this Mother's Day I want to include an excerpt to my beloved Mom.

Through days of smiles and carefree miles

We pass with nary a care;

Never aware of the troubles & trials,

That someone has to bear.

There’s seldom time to think of she,

Who mends our socks & sorrows;

Or pause a moment to stop and see,

Who’s guiding her tomorrows.

And so we run thru days of youth

To pathways yet to be;

Seeking love, in search of truth,

And finding both in she.

Moments, too, as all shall pass,

And children soon are grown;

Carefree days too soon to pass,

To children of their own.

So we watch and wait and pray,

For a child, young & free;

So we strive to be someday,

A mother such as she.

She, who’s greatest joy is giving,

And sharing unselfishly;

She, who spreads the glory of living,

If this I can one day be.

Loving, beyond so much,

and smiles, though troubles come;

Always there with a tender touch,

If this I can become.

One who’ll always lend an ear,

Though other have to go;

To share a smile and dry a tear,

If this I come to know.

Then, somehow, if this and more,

I ever grow to be;

Perhaps my son will know someday,

A mother such as she.

-- by Kris

August, 1971