Rosie the Riveter

For my grandma on her 100th birthday

Photo by Noah Buscher on Unsplash

Rosie the Riveter

Never underestimate the quiet girls,
the ones reading their way through the
library from A to Z. Underneath their
shy smiles hides the iceberg of their strength
existing eighty percent underwater, waiting
and ready to become the force of nature
God intended. When called, Rosie will
rise out of adversity, out of pennies and
desperate circumstances, even when there
is only one biscuit left to feed an entire family;
scared but brave, young but wise, entering
spaces that, for years, have been dominated
by men, she will take a breath and then,
proceed to build planes and bombs,
set bones and stitch wounds, trading in her
sponges and brooms to do what is needed.
This is what women do, what you did,
my Rosie (called Helen) when asked.
And you have continued to show the
same brave strength in every area of
your life for one hundred years. I am
in awe of you. I am in debt to you for
the example you have set, of faithfulness.
I love your stories, your paintings, and
your laugh. I love that you still devour
novels, vote in every election, and choose
the path of contentment and grace,
planting violets beside your front porch.
God is pleased with you, smiles upon you,
and knows the thoughts you have never
uttered aloud. He will surely say to His
Helen one day: “Well done, my good
and faithful servant. Well done.”