Roses for Remembrance

ROSES FOR REMEMBRANCE


I was thinking of my earliest thoughts of Memorial Day. I was just very small, and my mother and grandmother had passed the year before. We were headed to the cemetery to lay flowers on their graves. I was a child, and of course did not understand the entire Memorial Day thing. But I did enjoy cutting the flowers.


See, my grandmother had taken great pains to lay out a flower garden. I remembered walking with her through the neatly laid rows, and her carefully taking out-loud mental notes of what each flower was. I loved smelling them. There were columbines, our Colorado State flower, and there were teeny tiny roses, and big flowery roses, and Peonies, Iris, Sweet Peas, Tulips. So many flowers, and too many for a child to remember. One of the bushes was this simple, little rose with only a single layer of petals. I was not impressed with it.


On the day that my grandfather and I went to cut the roses, it seemed he had a plan in mind, but I didn't care. I was gleefully taking the ones he cut and wrapping them. Smelling each one. And listening to his mental notes. When we were done, we loaded the car up, and off we went to the cemetery.


This seemed like a big park to me. But I did have remembrance of the tears shed when both of them died, although I tried with all my might to forget that, and take a tumble on the grass. It was promptly brought to my attention that I should walk with respect here. And so I walked closely and carefully over the graves. My grandfather walked with determination out across a sea of grass, and stood at the head of his dear wife's grave. And he laid down a bouquet of all that we had cut. These were her flowers that she had tended so carefully. And then he walked over to my mother's grave.


There was a simple headstone. A veteran's headstone. Simply labeled with her name and birth and death dates. No fancy sayings, No embellishments. He took a deep breath, and pulled one of those single petal roses and laid it down. He never said a word, just sighed and walked away. I looked and turned to follow him. We left in silence.


Years later, after many trips to the cemetery, and many times of watching this demeanor of his, over and over, I would ask him about the entire thing. He only said that my mother had been a nurse in World War II. And not much else.


But he did say some other things. Perhaps knowing my mind, he wanted to plant deep in my thoughts something that would last forever.


How bright the flowers that lay here today!
Bluebells and Nosegay, Columbine and Tulips.
How bright the souls that passed this way!
Peonies for sweetness, And Roses for remembrance.


I learned years later that that simple rose was my mother's favorite one. She had lived a simple life, and was according to those I talked to her about, very simply sweet. She was proud to have served her country. She was honored to be allowed to. She died very young, and very painfully. She gave her life so I would have one.


I cannot go home this Memorial Day. Too many miles and too much duty. But in my mind I will place one simple, single rose on her grave.


Mother, a rose for remembrance.






© Copyright 2002 SLinnGomez. All rights reserved. SLinnGomez has granted Stories.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.




             

The True Meaning Of the Word "RE-TIRED"

 

When I started this blog project 6 months ago, I envisioned finding joy in every day.  One of those joys was the thought that I would be retired as of January 1^st, and would have the time to paint, write, meditate and give time to others who needed help.  I envisioned volunteering at the nursing home, working at a shelter, or feeding the homeless.  What I failed to understand is that when you set out to do something good, there is always more good to do than there is you to do it.  This is a lesson I am just barely grasping, of course, by learning the hard way. 

I spent my first few weeks of retirement cleaning and reorganizing my home, so that I would be free to do all those wonderful, high minded things once I started back to work part time.  My goal was an orderly home, where everything had a place and was in it.  It took an entire three weeks to finish the project, and since then many of those things have found their way back to the other things places.  That is not surprising since every disaster that I could have imagined sprang up.  I am not talking little disasters either.  I am talking big, life changers.  I assumed that everything would be sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.  However, the smoke is just starting to settle and the error of my thinking is just beginning to take hold.

Since January, there have been four deaths, two major illnesses that required bedside sitting, and the ongoing onslaught of responsibilities to my family. Add to that little league games, helping out friends who are in need, keeping up with my own needs, and I have been running non-stop for almost 6 months now.

I was so tired last week, that it gave an entire new meaning to being retired.  Like I was already tired, but now I am tired again, and again, and again.  One day last week, I was headed to the nursing home, with side stops to pick up stuff for a friend in the hospital, then on to the hospital, the store, and finally back home, to cook dinner and walk the dog.  This was after working a full day.  Hoping it would jar me awake, I turned on the radio, just as the DJ began reading from a journal.  The journal, written by a missionary who apparently had too much on her plate too, was about what God spoke to her from the scriptures.  That day, it just happened to be that God had talked to her about running on her own steam, rather than letting God be her steam.  I sat in awe.  What she was describing was exactly what I was experiencing.  Here was the answer to my Re-Tiredness.  I did not need more B-complex or coffee.  Sleep would not fix the problem.  The answer lay in my attempt to do it all, under my own strength, instead of relying on God to provide HIS strength. 

I can truly say, just identifying the problem was a big relief.  I decided for that day, to do only what I needed to do, instead of running until I collapsed.  I started to sing along with the songs on the radio.  Songs of praise to the God who knows and provides for my every need.  With all my heart, jamming and dancing in the car seat, voice lifted in praise, I suddenly felt strength returning to me.

I am sure the fellow driving in the car next to me thought I had escaped from the Looney Bin.  His eyes betrayed what his mouth could not say, but I really didn’t care.  I had reached overload, and God had been there to pick me up, brush me off and empower me to go on.  Not in my strength, but in His. 

Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

Mother

She is the sister you never had. She is the friend who helped you raise your children.  She is the woman who never had children, or who has not had any yet, but who nurtures every child who comes her way.  She is the daughter who rises to the occasion when you need her most.  If she is your mother, you are blessed with her, and if she is not your mother, you are blessed by her.

Hers is the honor of dirty diapers, broken bones, snotty noses, and fixing broken dreams.  Hers is the honor of endless housework, learning to cook everyone’s favorite meal, and feeding an army with an empty pantry.  Hers are the sleepless nights when the children are sick, when the teenagers do not come home, when the last dollar was spent on food, but there are other needs still to supply.  She is the one who everyone thinks is invincible, but in all reality is so vulnerable.  To her falls the duty of assigning chores to children that she will end up completing herself. 

She may be married, or she may be single, but she will never find a moment alone.  If she has no children of her own, someone will bring her theirs and she will gladly nurture them.  If you are heartbroken, no matter how old you are, she will comfort you, feed you, and restore your faith in humanity. 

She is your mentor, your friend, and your ally when everyone else bails on you.  She may not be YOUR mother, but she is a mother in your life who pointed out the pathways of life to you and lifted you up to walk on them. 

She cries when you cry, she rejoices when you succeed, and in the meantime, she prays for you and provides for you.  Without her, you would have never found your way, and with her, you will never lose it. 

God has blessed her with his vision, his patience, and his wisdom, but most of all He has blessed her with His loving heart. 

If you have a mother in your life, no matter if she is yours or not, bless her today with the love she has shown you.  

Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.

Proverbs 23:25
May your father and mother rejoice; may she who gave you birth be joyful!

To You Who Gave All

To You Who Gave All.

To The United States Military and their Families,

On the death of Usama Bin Laden

We, who stood trembling in fear,

As the great towers shook,

Crumbling and broken,

Who watched as they fell

Into a mass grave.

We, who cried in anguish,

Over the many dead

Over sons and daughters of the land

Lost forever to our arms,

We who buried the dead, and cried aloud

To God for justice and freedom

We salute you.

To you, mothers and fathers,

Whose sons and daughters

Gave all they had,

Who received as recompense

For your own sacrifice, a draped flag,

A coffin, ashes, and tears in the night.

We salute you.

To you, children, who will never know them

Who look upon photos of a soldier,

And receive not a memory, but tears.

We salute you.

To you, who though trembling, took courage,

Though breaking, stood fast,

With heart and mind broken, yet with spirit

Bravely encountering a world, no longer embracing you,

To you, whose bodies broken in giving all,

Returned home to a world less kind,

Leaving behind the ashes of friends

And comrades in arms whose laughter

Will never again ring out,

To you, whose hearts are breaking,

Because you stood firm, never allowing

That we at home, should taste

The bitterness of tyranny and fear,

To you, who shared

The longing in our hearts for the sweetness of freedom,

And the comfort and safety of our land,

We salute you.  
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Linn-Gomez. All Rights Reserved.