I wouldn’t have known the pains and joys of having children
Until I became a mother myself.
I marveled at each girl’s step.
Her first word.
The first prayer uttered with much difficulty
And all the other ‘firsts’ that followed.
Who would not remember the endless and silly questions asked out of nowhere,
Or the countless times I was given and told, “Mommy, flowers for you.”
Usually, these colorful flowers were picked on the chapel’s grounds
And were given after Sunday meetings.
I can still picture each girl running to me with flowers in her hand.
Then I would melt with happiness.
(And after returning each girl’s kiss,
I would look towards heaven and thanked God,
Imploring that these misses would remain the cute little imps forever).
BUT SOON THEY GREW UP.
With each new day a revelation comes to me.
I am a mother, so close to God.
I am His instrument in many ways
(Like my own mother, Felicitas, was, to me).
I must develop
Patience
Unconditional love.
Hope, Purity, Faith, Strength.
Above all else, Love of God.
As I build my girls’ characters
I, too, must build mine.
That someday when I face my Maker
I will truly account to Him His children
Who were once mine.
Deep in my heart I pray
That each girl will fondly remember
That once on earth
I was Maria Evelyn, their goodly mother.
Motherhood is a subject close to her heart and what inspires her to write. Her poetry is felt in every word. She believes that the ordinary and mundane things are the most beautiful ones.
https://www.amazon.com/Finding-My-Heart-Collection-Poetry/dp/B08T43FKHD?fbclid=IwAR0f6i1ieRYRZxtu8iGXZGkHLUtQ–Sz2KjOSwR-SeqZIkosiosjQfSg7R0
Our Featured Inspiring Poetess Ms Maria Evelyn’s Message to our readers
‘Hibiscus’ is another name for gumamela flower. If I were a flower, I would be a gumamela. This flambouyant flower comes in different varieties and in lovely colors of red, yellow, pink, white, and even purple. Known as the ‘wilting flower’, a gumamela only lasts for a day, then it closes and curls and falls off.Nonetheless, it blooms all year around. Wouldn’t it be gladsome to have fresh flowers every day on the table, bringing sweet fragrance and haunting the senses? I Find My Heart in writing poetry. This thankful heart that is seen in the eyes of my dear ones, this praying heart that is listened to be my Heavenly Father, this gleeful heart prancing with the rushing waves or musing at the vast moonless skies. All these, and many more in Evelyn’s world of poetry!
