A letter to my Mother - April 2020
It's been 5 years since my mother died. I just found this letter in a stack of papers in a box set aside in storage. I wrote it to her a month before she died. She had a medical complication which took her to the hospital. Seeing her condition they released her to the care of a nursing facility. One week later due to Covid restrictions we could not visit with her. This was reason I felt a need to write this letter. Thankfully the nursing facility was kind and released her to come home under the care of my two sisters who were nurses where she could die surrounded by her family. Usually we don't share the intimate feelings we have for another in a public way. But it's been 5 years and finding this letter I wrote overwehlmed me with such a sense of graditude, I felt it would be ok. I will let this be a tribute to my mother. She was such a special woman in my life.
Good morning my dear Mother,
We are living is such strange times complying with the restrictions of this virus. We just get to call everyday. We aren't allowed to visit each other, but maybe we can do something even more special like sit down and write a letter. A letter is when you get to think about what you want to say over and over again because you know what is written will last forever in the mind of the other person. So I decided to write a letter. You can read it over and over again because I thought about what I wanted to say so many times.
You are a very special mother to me, Mother. I remember praying with you at meal times and bed time. I remember singing:
Jesus tender shepherd near me bless the thy little lamb tonight.
Through the darkness be thou near me, keep me safe till morning light.
All this day thy hand has led me, and I thank thee for thy care,
Thou hast warmed me, clothed and fed me, Listen to my evening prayer.
Let my sins be all forgiven, bless the friends I love so well.
Take us all at last to heaven, happy there with thee to dwell.
This was a wonderful song to sing. It made me think that God was a loving God who was very close to us. You cared so much for us as children.
You often told me what my name meant. How the doctor said it wrong when I was first born, because you knew you were having a boy and his name would be Jonathan.
You worried about my temper. You told me I could kill someone if I did not get a grip on my temper. You prayed for me so many times. I knew you were right. I remember when you asked me if I could burn the play plastic gun modeled after a military weapon that was given to me by a neighbor as a gift. You talked about what such things were used for. And yes I did offer to burn it with the trash.
I remember when they did not have a school teacher at Manor Mennonite so you decided you could be the teacher. I remember protesting with tears, saying they would kill you. We used such strong language back then didn't we?! You were such a strong woman. You cared so deeply about the school and your children....the fruit of your womb as you would say. You gave no thought for your own welfare.
You did well as a school teacher. Danny thought you were the best school teacher he ever had. I think you actually enjoyed teaching even though you were stretched between running a house and teaching school. Father bought a dish washer that year to help you with washing dishes. We thought that was such a luxury.
You were an anchor for us in our faith. We believed in what you represented as a self-sacrificing person, totally committed to family, Church, and God. You became a model from which we evaluated all things in this world. We loved how you embraced your own people with all their warts and wrinkles, fully engaged in your own world, but with your arms wide open to embrace everyone else, including immigrants from Ukraine, Vietnam and Burma, even persons released from prison lived with us in the summer house, a small house attached to our home. Sometimes it did not go well. I remember the night of horrors when you took me over to the apartment to show me the aftermath of a drunken spree by one you attempted to help.... the only person I ever saw my parents ask to leave our peaceful home.
We had so much fun as a family. We ate outside at the picnic table every chance we could. Almost every Sunday we would take a walk through the meadow to the woods. Sometimes we went to Tucquan creek and we even went to Philadelphia zoo a couple of times. We had guests over for Sunday dinner often. We loved going to visit Grandma and Grandpa's house with all the cousins. We loved your family also. These are such wonderful happy childhood memories we have as your children. Home was such a peaceful place for us. The only conflict I remember was the day the 52 Dodge left you sit by the side of the road. Finally you were able to start it again, and you arrived home. You told all of us there by the milk house, you would sell the car for a dime, which only left our father smiling looking at the ground. Funny how that car still hung around for a few more years.
I don't remember making a choice to go college at Millersville. It was just kind of assumed I would go to Millersville following in the footsteps of my older siblings. You thought I should be a teacher so I did. In fact I don't remember making choices about much of anything in my life.
Pop thought I should go to Auction school so I did. He thought I should call bids with Leroy Zook, so I did. Lester Brubaker called saying they needed a social studies teacher, so I did. Pop thought I should build a house with Grandpa so I did. It's hard to imagine how life would have been different if I needed to make all those choices myself. Father and you have been the most supportive, enabling parents any child could hope to have. I am sure all your children would say exactly the same thing.
Loving and embracing Rhoda as your daughter-in-law has been the greatest gift any son could ask for. You loved her from the first day you met her. Rhoda could easily relate to you even as her own mother. I feel like she treats you with more respect and honor than I do. I believe it is because you make it so easy for one to do so.
No one will ever know the sacrifice you made in supporting our photo business as the retouching person we all depended on. Hour after hour you would take that little brush and color in those whites spots on prints left by the dust on the negative. When we made investments, Father looked to loan money to help make it happen without any questions or oversight. Your personal ambitions did not exist; only to support your children in whatever way you could.
Your prayers led the way in everything we did, Mother. We love to listen to your prayers. They have carried us over good times and disappointment. I saw you cry in the pews, and I saw you hug the 3 little girls who sit beside you every Sunday morning with great joy. They miss you now. The songs you sing from your heart at every family gathering, and every Sunday morning in church fill our hearts with gratitude for the gift of your life to us and draw us to God.
We love you so much, your son, Jonathan
posted by Jonathan Charles @ 9:08 AM
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