Agnes on Valentine’s Day 2004 At Her Assisted Living Facility, Spring Texas — Image by kenne
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My mother, Agnes — Image by kenne
As we near Mother’s Day, 2015, much will be written, gifts given and loved shared. Remembering Mother is truly a daily exercise in life. Over the last ten years, this blog has had many postings on mothers. One of my favorite poems about mothers is one by Billy Collins, titled, “The Lanyard.”
THE LANYARD
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room
bouncing from typewriter to piano
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the “L” section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word, Lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past.
A past where I sat at a workbench
at a camp by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips into a lanyard.
A gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard.
Or wear one, if that’s what you did with them.
But that did not keep me from crossing strand over strand
again and again until I had made a boxy, red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold facecloths on my forehead
then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim and I in turn presented her with a lanyard.
“Here are thousands of meals” she said,
“and here is clothing and a good education.”
“And here is your lanyard,” I replied,
“which I made with a little help from a counselor.”
“Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth and two clear eyes to read the world.” she whispered.
“And here,” I said, “is the lanyard I made at camp.”
“And here,” I wish to say to her now,
“is a smaller gift. Not the archaic truth,
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took the two-toned lanyard from my hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless worthless thing I wove out of boredom
would be enough to make us even.”
— Billy Collins
Chase and Mother Agnes — Image my kenne
Thinking about Mother
I thought about yesterday
Remembering the moments
I thought about today
Taking a deep breath.
I thought about tomorrow
Exceeding my grasp.
I thought about time
Wondering about timeless.
I thought about life,
Asking the questions.
I thought about people,
Knowing not what I see.
I thought about what is,
Wondering why?
I thought about ideals,
Seeking what should be.
I thought about truth,
Confusing it with the facts.
I thought about art,
Becoming aware.
I thought about love
Touching the feeling.
I thought about Joy,
Feeling love inside.
I thought about you,
Walking with long shadows
I thought again of tomorrow
Sharing your path.
These are my words to you, Mother. We miss you every day, especially on Mother’s Day!
— kenne
“It’s only words
and words are all I have
to take your heart away.”
Joy, Jill & James – image by kenne (Photo Set)
Image by kenne
Thinking about Mother
I thought about yesterday
Remembering the moments
I thought about today
Taking a big breath.
I thought about tomorrow
Exceeding my grasp.
I thought about time
Wondering about timeless.
I thought about life,
Asking the question.
I thought about people,
Knowing not what I see.
I thought about what is,
Wondering why?
I thought about ideals,
Seeking what should be.
I thought about truth,
Confusing it with the facts.
I thought about art,
Becoming aware.
I thought about love
Touching the feeling.
I thought about Joy,
Feeling love inside.
I thought about you,
Walking with long shadows.
I thought again of tomorrow
Sharing your path.
We miss you every day, especially on Mothers Day!
kenne
Mothers Day, 2008
This year we have two new mothers in the family. 
To our new mothers, April and Jill; and to all mothers and their children, I share this from the book, The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran.
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other’s shadow.
kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 