My heart -shaped birthday cakes,
Fashioned by her hands.
Hoping my feet looked like hers,
When we squished our toes in the sand.
Her voice, melodic and comforting,
As she read or sang to me,
Memories of my own dear Mother,
Remain strength to me.
I could never get enough of her words,
Though they freely flowed to me.
She was just the kind of mother
That I hoped someday to be.
Never could I imagine,
Being able to set her free.
She was my mother,
A wealth of wisdom to me.
How like her to have prepared me
When I was so very young,
Sharing with me the answer
To a question that would come.
"I won't be here," she declared
"When you need me most,
But our Jesus will remain with you,
Through His Holy Ghost."
"I with Him and you with me,
Then you with Him and me,
And then, of course, together,
"Don't you cry, Charlotte Ann,"
I can still hear her say,
"You must not be sad,
On my glorious heavenly day!"
I did cry; she knew I would.
But soon His Spirit reigned.
And sadness bowed to the joyful promise,
That I would be with her again.
What a gift she gave to me,
I pray my children see;
That I love them. . .all of them,
The way my mother loved me!