The mothers stood at the front of the church
Waiting for a rose from their child.
But one mother seemed to be standing alone
She had waited for quite a while.
 
Then a man brought the wheelchair past them all,
But Heather was in her own little world.
She was born twisted and crippled.
Her mind couldn’t work like most little girls.
 
There was no smile, no hug, no thank you
For the mother who had given so much
Her husband handed her the Mother’s Day rose;
She reached for Heather with a tender touch.
 
The mom that had given the most received the least
Yet God nudged my heart and seemed to smile.
“Take these words down and thank her for me.”
Thank her for raising . . . my child.”
 
Then in an instant God opened my eyes
To another time, another place.
Why did I think of another child
With a perfect body, a beautiful face?
 
 
I had met her when she was a little girl
She had big, bright sparkling eyes.
And she told her mother, plain and clear
That she remembered another life.
 
With a giggle and a bounce of her curls
She began to tell her tale.
How she waited in heaven to be born
Her mother’s face turned pale.
 
She said how she had talked with God
As she was waiting for her birth.
He said that she could choose her parents
When she came to live on earth.
 
Her mother found it hard to believe
Until one unusual day;
At a store her child looked and wondered,
Her mother couldn’t drag her away.
 
There was a figure of a man on a cross
Who was bleeding, wounded and torn.
Her little face was so saddened,
All at once she looked tired and worn.
 
The sadness she felt brought tears to her eyes
And with these words she began to cry.
“How could they have treated God’s son that way,
Why did He have to die?”
 
“You should have been there with me that day.
You could hear God cry all over heaven.”
Her mother could hardly believe her ears,
For she’d never told her how we were forgiven.
 
She’d never taken her to Sunday School
Or read to her child from the Bible
Was she really speaking from memory?
She concluded there could be no denial.
 
And I thought and I thought, and I wondered.
Had other children ever made that choice;
Does Heaven have such a wonderful plan
That listens to each little voice.
And what of the parents whose child is born
With deformity or weakness of mind?
For each parent dreams of a perfect child
Not one that is crippled or blind.
 
Does God send these special children
To parents that are blessed by his hand?
Are there mysteries known in the heavens above,
That are too hard to understand?
 
My thoughts turned back to Heather
Who would never be the same as others
And the countless hours of devoted care
Given by her father and mother.
 

I somehow think that God in his way
Has a secret that cannot be known
Until we stand at the beautiful gate
And his matchless wisdom is shown.
 
Heather’s limbs will be straightened and changed
Her eyes sparkle with sunshine and light.
She’ll be able to see, and her mind will be sharp,
She’ll say all of her words, just right.
 
And she’ll tell us all, with a smile on her face
Just what she’s known all along;
That the angels in heaven whisper to her
And bless her heart with a song.
 
And she’ll sing and dance with a depth of joy
That others will never know.
She’ll be changed in an instant from all that she was.
She’ll be perfect from head to toe!
 
And the pain and tears of her loved ones,
Of those who were burdened by grief,
Will be wiped away in the blink of an eye
And replaced by God’s love, joy and peace.
 
And, I thank you, God, for these precious words
May they bless her father and mother;
And help us to learn that we’re all unique,
That You love us each as you love no other.
Ruth Sargent