sixty

by Katherine Carberry

So that we might know,
so that we might throw all of our confidence upon the mighty God –
She rose and told us the ancient words,
the praiseworthy acts of Yahweh.
The wonderful workings of him who loved us
were not hidden from our sight,
but the air we breathed and the stability of our home.

I have grown and birthed another generation
and in every step of my following behind her,
I bless the Lord for my mother –
for her quiet, glad sacrifice
of praise to our seeing Redeemer.
The Faithful God
considers her faithful.

Her clothes were mercy —
the gentleness of Christ made her kind,
and forgiveness was ever ready.
Home with her was shelter,
Christ’s word and wisdom
teaching us the shape of the thankful heart.

Her instruction spoke life and stirred courage –
her hand was never heavy,
her burden was light.
In her way of asking forgiveness first,
her most quick attention to our needs,
her tireless care over crumb and coverlet,
sore and sadness,
I saw the likeness of the tending, sparing Father
we sang the hymns about.

I wonder at the way she rested,
in the character and promises of God—
of seeing his goodness as rich
because she was always tasting it.
Her arms were a wide welcome
to the living, bright word of God.
Still she lingers over crinkled page,
glad to hold again
the ancient lines that will never stop giving her life,
never stop being her daily bread.

Her eyelids were often closed in prayer —
I don’t want to forget the honor it was
to listen to her pour out petitions
when it was time to pray aloud,
all heads bowed in preparation for the Sabbath
in the Saturday night living room.
And each morning as we began the day
Coram Deo—often the same, good requests
of our same, good King
were lifted up from humble lips.

She’d be in the middle of what must have been the hardest, scariest days,
(I was too young to really know it.)
But I do know she’d stop her day
when Elisabeth or Joni came on the radio
for their daily segments, and she turned her ear
to their familiar voices, women who had already lived through the worst
and found the comfort of God.
It was like they were reaching behind them, taking her hand,
and helping her find her bearings
when the ground was quaking.

The courage that was Christ in her
taught us to trust that he was good,
whatever came. He was the Lord and we were dearly loved,
even unto death.

The faithfulness of God is what still keeps her,
and will surely complete his work through to the end.
Her entire self—soul, spirit, body—
safe and spotless and ready
for the rest of her life, and eternity after that.
It is the same God, the same faithfulness
that will do the same in me and my own,
and I praise him that she is a
full-flowing vessel of his grace
poured out upon her family,
spilling over upon my head.