Sarah Jane Rogers Burgess
I look across the years and see myself playing at your feet. I'm almost like a little shadow that follows you everywhere.
My whole world centers around you. Even though you've raised eleven other babies, you make me feel warm and special and wanted.
I still remember on one occasion our visit to the family farm -- I wasn't much more than a baby then -- a terrible lightning and thunderstorm descended down upon us. The rain, driven by the wind, and the roar of the elements was frightening. You reached down and gathered me in your arms and wrapped me in a large gray shawl.
After that, nothing else mattered, I was safe and protected and loved, and I was happy.
You may think it strange I would remember this after all these years. Still, you can see right from the beginning, what an influence you had upon all our lives.
You taught us to have faith in God, to be honest, and obedient and to love one another.
For we could see in you, your love for the Lord; you were grateful for His blessings. We knew of your sacrifices for us, even though we took many things for granted.
The hours and days you spent sewing, always sewing, making new things, making over old things. The thousand and one tasks.
Even you patience with me when I let the mother cat in the house and she had her babies on top of your bed.
The birthday parties. The loaves and loaves of delicious bread and especially those wonderful buttermilk biscuits.
We all knew of our love for beautiful flowers, and when we coaxed you to have your picture taken, you chose to stand by the honeysuckle vine, because of the sweet fragrance of the blossoms.
I well remember some of my sister's courtship days. How you lived along with them, their joys and sorrows. Using each teaching moment to guide and help them; and you did just that, Mother dear, you can be proud of them.
I've wished many times you could have been with us, even just for a few more years.
I can see you standing so straight and tall with your lovely black hair so neatly arranged, just a beautiful woman among women.
Do you remember, Mother, the night before you left on your only vacation trip how you called me late that night on the phone. Wishing we could be together and share the joy of that happy vacation. How little did we know it was our farewell to each other.
Ah, what would we do without sweet memories that reflect the treasures of the heart.
Many times since your leaving I've prayed to God and asked Him to help me pattern my life from the beautiful example you set for us.
Your gifts to me, and they are many, I will always cherish.
Thank you, Mother.
P.S. Somewhere I read:
A Mother is the guardian angel for the family,
The queen, the tender hand of love.
A Mother is the best friend anyone ever has.
A Mother is love.
Lucille Burgess Tegan
Mother's Day -- May 8, 1983
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