My Mothers

How can a person such as I

Ever endeavor to describe

The blessings held within her life

As a daughter, mother, and a wife

These blessings I attribute to

God-given mothers, the two of you.

I sat and read a bit today

Of the struggles that I had

When on my wedding, day of days,

I acquired a second Mom and Dad.

What now will I call them?

They’re his parents not mine.

Parental terms too dear to me

This was going to take some time.

I asked my own Mom for advice

And this is what she said,

“Don’t say her first name or Hey-You,

But call her Mom instead.”

How could I ever use that word

That precious, blessed name

With any other woman than

The one from which I came

She’d earned that name through sleepless nights

Through smiles, and tears, and pain

She’d sewn my dresses, made my dolls,

And tamed my chestnut mane.

She cried with me when I was hurt

And bandaged up my knees

She kissed and held me close to her

And listened to my pleas

How could another woman now

Be granted such an honor?

Could my dear Mother’s precious name

Be shared and placed upon her?

But in a moment she knew not

She earned that title too

She worked and served and I could see

That ‘Mother’ name would do.

It was the night of our reception

After I’d changed out of my dress

I noticed she was working still

And wouldn’t take a rest

Everyone had gone to bed

But she kept plugging on

Till all the floors had been swept up

And each last dish was done.

I saw within her qualities

That my own mother had

And knew that I could learn from her

As I had my Mom and Dad.

Another fact not overlooked,

To it I must give note,

She was the one who raised the man

With whom I’d share the yoke.

Eight years have passed now

Since the day I gained another Mother

And I’ve some children of my own,

Three sisters and their brother.

And at night when I kneel down

To offer up my prayer

I thank him for my Mothers

With that blessed name they share.

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

Mom #1, thank you for all you have taught me in my life and for molding me into the person that I am.  I make so very many mistakes, but you have always loved me and shown confidence in me.  I have always loved to talk to you.  Dad still makes fun of how much I call you, but I need you.  I need to hear your voice, your “Helloooo” (with that dip in it), on the other end of the line.  I need to be called “Katie” and feel your love through the miles, to know I am yours, that I will always be yours.  I need to hear stories I’ve heard a thousand times, old familiar names and old familiar places.  I have seen you serve all my life.  You have worked until your body screams out to stop and then you work a little more.  You care for me when you should have nothing left to give.  You draw on our Heavenly Father for strength and share it with us.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Mom #2, how can a person show so much love to one who is not her own.  But as I have heard Dad say, I am not yours by birth, but by covenant.  My first Mom gave me life and you have given me someone to share it with.  How can I thank you for such a gift.  Through your sacrifices he learned of the world but was sheltered from its stains.  He’s kind to me.  He’s patient, loving, and understanding.  He’s a hard worker, humble, respectful, and dedicated.  When he sits at the piano and fills our home with music, I thank you.  When I come home from some evening meeting to find bathed, sleeping children, dishes done, and the floors all swept, I thank him.  BUT he reminds me it is you who wouldn’t have let him go to bed with the kitchen all a mess.  When I have made some really naïve comments or choices you have not judged me, but loved me, and shown confidence in me—in us. 

Mom and Mom, I love you both and thank you for your love—and for the love of our dear Dads!! 

Yours always,

Kathryn