Written to the four Blowers kids Nov 24, 1997 on the occasion of mom and dad’s 45th wedding anniversary.
Preface:
This week of Thanksgiving I am preparing to teach a Sunday school lesson on “Being a Thankful People” and sharing in our Village Thanksgiving Day Service. I am absorbed by three gifts of God, for which I am most thankful: health, a wonderful wife, and God’s amazing grace.
So this Sunday afternoon I biked to the Hospitality House at the edge of our village. I sought stillness, to meditate and be grateful for God’s blessings. I ambled slowly and thoughtfully through the rose garden as this idea flashed in my heart. Write an “Ode to the Mother of Four Under Four”. You are no longer even “Four Under Forty”.
Leaning close and wide-eyed I savored the beauty of the yellow, white, red, pink,
mauve and variegated pastels.
I breathed deeply the perfumed fragrance of these beauties and thought of Mom.
Ruth’s romantic nature enticed me to catch in my memory the lilting tunes and
nostalgic lyrics of “My Wild Irish Rose” and “The Yellow Rose of Texas”.
There were fresh, perfect, rosebuds drawing new life from those bushes
like the girl I married 45 years ago.
Other blooms were fully matured and open, their golden centers
bursting with sunlight;
their mellowed fragrance pungent and sweetly appealing.
Daily I feel the warmth of Mom’s sincere, golden heart of love for her Lord,
her man, and her children.
Your Mother today is still my greatest treasure,
and continually adds laughter, freshness, joy,
and the aroma of happiness to our home.
Though many years have flitted by, she’s not pale and frail, but,
as always, rosy cheeked and hale.
I could sing, “Silver threads among the gold, darling…”
and change the colour to “Silver threads among the brown,
you look the youngest girl in town.”
(unfortunately, a retirement village).
Amazingly, while in the rose garden fondling these splashes of colour and beauty,
I made a fresh discovery.
Hidden in the curved silken petals of a mature pink flower
was a tiny emerald frog,
with black beady eyes staring out at me.
To my surprise there was another, and in still a different rose
two glistening amphibians peeking our of their petal pads---
four all together.
Were the roses mothering the frogs?
These green lively creatures spoke to me of surprises,
and those wide open eyes, of curiosity.
Mom brings these qualities to life.
The days are not dull and humdrum.
Life is learning, asking questions, wondering.
Even if answers are not always found,
the curiosity is exciting.
I cherish the Lady who made those vows to me nearly a half century ago,
for better or for worse, richer or poorer,
in sickness or in health, through thick or thin.
A loving, faithful, loyal help-meet and friend is an invaluable treasure.
Your Mom has been that.
Mom is the Queen of this house.
I like to present her with a flower a day to express my love and gratitude.
In Papua New Guinea the flower was a gardenia,
picked from the bush in the front yard
as I returned from my morning jog.
Here, it is a hibiscus or rose, plucked from bushes in our house border.
She is special.
She likes to tell people that she has the same number of children
as Queen Elizabeth.
Here the comparison breaks down.
For largely through her prayers and teaching
you are all following Jesus,
loving Him, and serving Him.
We’d rather you all be doing that, “than to be the king of a vast domain,
and be held in sin’s dread sway.
We’d rather you have Jesus, than anything this world affords today.”
Her radiance, colourful personality and fragrant influence
lives on to bless us all.
Thank God for your Mother,
From your Father, forever in love with your Mom
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