“Mother Love” stoneware sculpture 3ft.tall by kayti sweetland rasmussen
What stronger bond is there than the love of a mother for her children? During my life of art, I have been privileged to paint or sculpt people, and some of the most rewarding have been mothers with their children. Wherever I have gone, I am always touched by the enveloping warmth of a mother’s love for her children.
As a mother, grandmother and great grandmother, I can share this singular state of being. Children are our legacy to the world. It’s our responsibility to make it a good legacy.
100 Words
Pachofa-Unfinished 
At first glance, I thought of some of your Native American sculptures. Then I looked again, and thought, “No, that looks African.” But that’s the point — the love of mother for child is universal, and you’ve managed to capture that here.
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You are correct. She has no connection to race—the universal Mother figure.
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Nothing more touching than the love of mother for her child. Nothing more painful than the loss of her child.
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I am with you Gerard. I believe we both share that sorrow.
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I never had the maturity to be a mother, Katy – too … ahh … affected by my own childhood relationship with mine, I think.
But I frequently thank all the gods that there aren’t too many people like Stringer and me in that regard …
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It is obvious that you and Stringer were a rare couple.
Many mothers and daughters have a difficult relationship.
And I think you are quite mature M-R.
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You are a most civil woman !
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May I share this poem which I heard just yesterday on the radio? I found it so moving and rather appropriate to this post:
Poem: “Her First Calf,” by Wendell Berry, from Collected Poems (North Point Press).
Her fate seizes her and brings her
down. She is heavy with it. It
wrings her. The great weight
is heaved out of her. It eases.
She moves into what she has become,
ure in her fate now
as a fish free in the current.
She turns to the calf who has broken
out of the womb’s water and its veil.
He breathes. She licks his wet hair.
He gathers his legs under him
and rises. He stands, and his legs
wobble. After the months
of his pursuit of her, now
they meet face to face.
From the beginnings of the world
his arrival and her welcome
have been prepared. They have always
known each other.
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This is a great poem Barbara. I don’t know if you have ever witnessed the birth of a calf, but this describes it perfectly, except for the umimaginable wonder of it all!
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You have captured the universal mother perfectly – the protecting, the nurturing, caring love. Beautiful
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Thank you so much Irene. It is so for all the mothers of the world, whatever shape they may be.
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Love this and you are so loved by many of us!
Sent from my iPhone
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Thanks Linda. I feel very blessed.
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