Sunday, May 11, 2014


My Dear Christine, a Mother, My Wife

An astral voice with promise she
Imagined a marquee to herald fame,
Her name famous, yet
The primacy of faith and call to service, governed
Choices, one of which was me.

This long legged beauty strode with
Chestnut tresses, pleated skirts swaying,
Into my heart until she walked an aisle
In white one August day, beginning
A life, a marriage, a motherhood.

To spaces, places far from home she
Made a home, she was at home, charming
Adaptation to roles thrust hard
Upon her, pastor’s wife and mother, her
Gifts seemingly unobserved.

Yet she coached others, not least of whom,
Her children, her love tattooed
Forever on their hearts, they love
Their children as she did them, and
Countless others whose lives touched hers.

She could have been, she might have been, those
Thoughts sometimes recur, then pale
Before the faces of five sweet people, small now
Growing, gone to soon she’ll be
Remembered for all the memories she birthed.

Ron Unruh, May 11, 2014 on Mother's Day
July 23, 2013 on Christine's 70th Birthday

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