Blanketed in the warmth of a Mother’s prayers
Which form a lasting refuge of peace
The Name in which she hid,
Gone forth to create a home
For lasting generations,
Where little ones nestle safely,
Snuggled securely in arms of restfulness

Mom, your faithful offerings
Have grown a garden of perpetual grace,
Full of fruit ripened and sweet,
Harvested now in other’s lives
Reaping returns of manifold wisdom,
Which crown your faithful brow
And adorn you with honor

As your labor rests,
The Reward of your days continues to bloom,
And swell in us children, born of your hope
in tides of unceasing praise.

By Andrea Benoit, 6-2004