We thought there should be a photo, at least.
So, we pleaded…with broken hearts, too.
Just one shot of the twins, with Mother,
Who was worn from the labor, we knew.
It was dismal and dull, and the times were hard;
Not enough work to go around.
These were the last, the hardest of all.
Now, one must go in the ground.
Mama was old for a baby at all,
Let alone identical twins.
"No wonder we lost him, no wonder!" we said.
Her face was pale and grim.
So, we laid little babies, one on each side,
And we dreamed of what might have been.
We all cried a little. But, her tears came down
Like a rushing, o'erflowing, stream!
There were things to do. A few brought food.
Then, the church people came and said
They were sorry, no services in the church,
For the tithe had not been paid.
For the rest of my life, I've carried the look
In my mind on mama's face!
Sometimes, these 'religious' ones make it hard
To understand 'Loving Grace'.
It's straightened out, now, and I do not hold
Any grudge against any man.
But, I've studied the likes of Jesus and find
He's certainly not like that band!
Jesus would comfort and, maybe, weep, too.
Jesus would dry her tears.
He might even give her a glimpse of Heaven,
Simply to soothe her cares.
Mama had given so much of herself,
Always a smile and a cheer.
Mama was more like the Savior, that day,
Than any revealed all these years.
Now, they've all gone to Heaven and I'm growing old.
I'll join them before very long.
By the Grace of God, only, I'll find them all there;
Singing a heavenly song.
As long as I have, I'll study His Word
So I can be more like Him.
For, God in His Heaven, knows very well
I never want to be like them!
© 2002 by Joan Clifton Costner
http://underhiswings0.tripod.com