Planting Seeds By the Light of the Moon

Where is the loving mother who's needed most, long after she's taken all the lovely fruits and flowers from the garden she tended yesterday in this onerous, earthly realm? How long has it been since she caressed and kissed her husband, children, grandchildren and others whom she loved more than all the air she breathed, the water she was baptized in and the very life she lived as if yesterday was nothing more than a fading dream and tomorrow a tantalizing blessing, hope and prayer. Where is that splendiferous, loving mother whose loss I find at times too great a loss, too much to bear? Rising high above tempestuous storms, ebb and flooding tides... far beyond feeling forlorn where she now walks and hides. In goodness and grace in His loving embrace in recompense for the garden she watered and pruned, Where is she now (I can see her somehow), planting seeds by the light of the moon.