Likely there are lots of people who do not know what a hollyhock is. But we grew them in Oklahoma. I remember that they were Mom's favorite flowers. Our old clapboard house wasn't much to look at, surrounded by farm land and a chicken house on one side, and a brooder house for baby chicks on the other, with a woodpile in between for the woodburning stove. The cellar was behind the house, a place where Mom stored canned goods and where we feared to go when the tornadoes came, because there might be scorpions or snakes down there. An old chinaberry sat determinedly near the front porch. Mom had tried to cut it out and my brother and I helped because Dad's favorite switching stick was a limber green limb from that tree.
Mom planted hollyhocks all across the front of the house and the sides - yellow and pink and white and something nearly red. I had no idea it would create such a vivid and lasting memory for me. What I seem to remember best from my childhood are the things my mother loved.
She loved the poor family down the road, the Ballards who lived in a rented house and had even less than we did.
She loved the church and worked hard for her kindergarten class - for 23 years.
She loved every hollyhock.
Today I was rereading the little jewel Safed the Sage by William Barton. He also loved hollyhocks and planted them each place where he lived, moving about now and then as preachers often did. Hollyhocks I Transplanted is a great little treatise on suffering in God's plan. And his story in which spring has come because you can anticipate it in the seeds from the mail order store is a lifter of the spirit. Reading his book made me think of Mom again. I often go for months without strong memories of Mom, but when I do remember I feel the pain of losing her. I'm 7 years older than she was when she died. I have no regrets, for her life was good, even with the suffering. But I do wish she had been given more time with my daughter, for I treasured the moments I saw them together.
Ah, well, as Safed says, now the hollyhocks rest secure in their bed hard by the house of God.
Rest in peace, charles
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I am a New York Times bestselling author working on a new book about mother-daughter relationships and thought you might want to contribute a story. Please visit my blog for information about being interviewed for “Mom's Little Angel.”
Gregory E. Lang
Author of “Daddy’s Little Girl,” “Why a Daughter Needs a Dad,” “Why a Daughter Needs a Mom” and more.
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