Marilla

 

When I named you Marilla,

Sweet daughter of mine. 

It was Rilla Blythe that I thought of. 

 

The child of Anne, the daughter of Gilbert,

The girl with the spider leg lashes and the lisp.

 

The Rilla who knew joy in a valley of rainbows, and children,

And sorrow in a nation of conflict.

 

I named you for the girl who I wished

Innocence, sweetness, and a world of peace for, 

But who grew to a woman, wise in a world shredded by war, 

Who knew how to hope through her sorrow and tears, 

Who knew how to sacrifice for better days 

And a more beautiful world in the future. 

 

A poignant character.

A child of grace. 

 

When I named you Marilla

My last baby, my hoped for daughter,

It was your great-great-grandmother I thought of.

 

Marilla, the wife of William,

The one who read the word of God

When her husband rode the storms,

As fierce as hurricanes,

Flowing down from the cliffs of Zion.

 

Marilla who loved her children,

Who buried four before she found her rest;

Who cuddled the babes and wiped their tears,

Who cooked and cleaned and served and loved

In the desert of Utah’s Dixie 

Long before comfort found its way to her world.

 

I named you for the woman 

Who loved fiercely,

Tenderly served

And was no one’s weakness,

Especially her own. 

I named you for the mother whose deafness

Made her keen of hearing the whispering of the Spirit

And knew when to fight, when to be still, and when to work hard.

 

A legacy of strength.

A woman of faith.

 

When I named you Marilla,

Rilla my Rilla, Marilla my Joy,

I thought of you. Of who you would be.

 

And you remain a mystery unfolding,

A wonder unwritten,

A marvel in the midst of discovery. 

 

I see you and I ponder

How such strength, wisdom, love, and beauty

Could have come from me,

Daughter of my Grandmother’s daughter’s 

Baby girl. 

 

You came with your wisdom

Already within you. 

There is nothing I can truly teach you 

Which you don’t already know,

Except for this:

 

You are loved,

By all the matriarchs who came before you.

You are treasured,

In every breast that nursed a babe who brought you forth.

 

We believe in you;

Our hearts behind you,

Our hands beside you,

Our hopes before you,

Our support around you.

 

And there is no path you may travel,

No dream you will pursue,

Where we will not be with you

In heart, mind, and spirit.

An unbroken line of mother hearts

Who you carry with you in every cell

Which makes you who you are.

 

And when you discover,

As we all have done,

That life is balanced between the love and fear,

The hope and the despair, 

The questions and the faith,

We will be there to hold you, lift you,

Carry your heart, and tend your soul 

With our tears, laughter, and love. 

 

You will ever be Marilla,

Beloved, daughter of my heart.

 

November 20, 2019