Mother’s Day

Frank's parents, Sara and Peter Nickel

Let me tell you of two ladies

with great influence on my life.

My own mother is the first one

and the other is my wife.

No one else so sacrificial,

no one else could take the place

of my mother at my entry

of this world and human race.

Many hours she invested

for my comfort and my good;

needed rest was interrupted,

others slept while oft she stood.

I am told that of the knowledge

gained in all the years we live,

over half will be acquired

by the time we’re four or five.

Let me ask you—who’s the teacher?

Not just several hours each day,

but around the clock—each moment?

It’s a mother—we must say!

No, she didn’t have much schooling

but she did have common sense

and to God she had devotion;

she had faith when clouds were dense.

She knew how to make a dinner

that was tasty—wholesome too;

how she often stretched the dollar—

did with what she had to do!

Off to school I took her blessing,

knew that she would pray for me;

when in conflict with my brothers,

she would ably referee.

In the secret place, she pleaded

that the Lord my soul would save;

brought me face to face with Jesus,

who His life for sinners gave.

She had flaws and sometimes showed them;

she was human, yes, I know,

but she walked with God serenely

in this world of sin and woe.

Yes, she clothed me and she nursed me

many times when I was sick.

Oh, it really is amazing,

what makes such a mother tick!

Well, my own dear mother left me

for the land beyond the sky,

so the Lord has yet provided

for another to stand by.

An early photo of newlyweds, Frank & Eva

And I’m glad to call her “Mother,”

she has earned that title, too.

She’s the mother of our children,

who has been so kind and true.

I’m amazed at her endurance,

thankful she’s been well and strong;

trusting God, whatever happened,

keeping busy all day long.

She has done her part in teaching,

we’ve all learned from her, you see,

probably the slowest learner

is the one that I call “me.”

There is much that I could mention;

more that’s known to God alone,

but I’m glad to say she’s charming

and my love for her has grown.

We may sometimes take for granted

many blessings on this earth,

but I’ll be forever grateful

for these treasures of such worth.

In the years of life’s grand mystery,

in the quest of love’s intrigue,

they brought zest and richer living:

two fine ladies in my league.

fpn 5/77

Home is Where the Heart Is

This is a tribute to our departed mother, but when Dad first wrote this poem before her death, it was for a brother's passing. He intended that the names or pronouns in the last verse be substituted to give tribute to any loved one who is "promoted to glory." We have included it today since Mom passed away 21 years ago, on Mother's Day, May 12, 1996.









Home is where the heart is,
we sometimes hear it said;
the place where we expect to find
a roof, a meal, a bed.
But there is more—a motel too
or even barracks may
accommodate our body’s needs
and serve quite comfortably.

Our hearts are not content until
some loved ones share our lot
and we commune in deeds and words—
yes, suffering, like as not.
It’s in living for each other
that our souls are gratified
and if we’d have a super home
then Christ must there abide.

How soon things change. Our loved ones go
and leave an empty place.
Then heaven’s attaction on us grows,
that new home beyond space.
Where separations cannot mar
our glad and peaceful state.
Where toil and tears and pain are past
and glorious joys await.

Our mother has gone home and we
will follow her ere long.
She’ll greet us on the other side
where we’ll unite in song
of praise to Him who died, arose,
has gone a place to prepare.
We’re going home, where our heart is,
rich fellowship to share!

fpn / 91