I read this post and had to share. http://oodlesofgrace.blogspot.ca/
The poem on my fridge is yellowed with age.
Fitting perhaps as I contemplate how long I have had it there and the age of my children now.
I keep it there as a reminder though,of days that were, but still are. Days where I always have a choice, priorities are a practiced art, and memories are ever in the making...
my memory wall..then and now. (even the now is dated)
Yes, oldest daughter is married now. Living out her dreams on a small, country property 30 minutes from here.
Second daughter is a missionary in Toronto. She lives on the 11th floor of an apartment, and the sun sets behind sky scrapers.
Son...almost sixteen, which means he'll be driving soon. His voice so deep and grown up when he called yesterday from that camp way up north, he was at for the week.
"Hey Mom, what are you doing right now?" Made me stop and wonder for a moment how that happened. When did this boy change into a man?
and daughter turning 14 in a few weeks...such a practical helper and yet still such a girl with dreams.
Then there's my baby 11 for a few more months. The one with questions bigger than I can answer at times. The one who I cuddled with on the boat this evening,as we tried to stay warm as the day changed to dusk.
and me their mother...too task oriented at times. (the kind that finds serenity in shining glass.)which is why I need this poem to remind me of what really matters....I hope you enjoy it too!
I know so well the value of neat rooms,
White curtains and the warmth of polished brass,
Wide window sills with plants in coloured rows,
Serenity that comes in shining glass.
But these, O Lord are not important things,
Nor will they leave much mark in days to be;
My children will forget their ordered rooms
In after years, but when they think of me,
May they remember I laughed much, and think
Upon the way I shared their gaiety,
And how I read them stories from old books
Of brave fair days,and sometimes made them see
A wider world. O make them understand
That always I have deemed it more my task
To be as understanding as I could,
Than keep clean rugs upon a dusted floor.
( D. Tresidder)
The poem on my fridge is yellowed with age.
Fitting perhaps as I contemplate how long I have had it there and the age of my children now.
I keep it there as a reminder though,of days that were, but still are. Days where I always have a choice, priorities are a practiced art, and memories are ever in the making...
my memory wall..then and now. (even the now is dated)
Yes, oldest daughter is married now. Living out her dreams on a small, country property 30 minutes from here.
Second daughter is a missionary in Toronto. She lives on the 11th floor of an apartment, and the sun sets behind sky scrapers.
Son...almost sixteen, which means he'll be driving soon. His voice so deep and grown up when he called yesterday from that camp way up north, he was at for the week.
"Hey Mom, what are you doing right now?" Made me stop and wonder for a moment how that happened. When did this boy change into a man?
and daughter turning 14 in a few weeks...such a practical helper and yet still such a girl with dreams.
Then there's my baby 11 for a few more months. The one with questions bigger than I can answer at times. The one who I cuddled with on the boat this evening,as we tried to stay warm as the day changed to dusk.
and me their mother...too task oriented at times. (the kind that finds serenity in shining glass.)which is why I need this poem to remind me of what really matters....I hope you enjoy it too!
I know so well the value of neat rooms,
White curtains and the warmth of polished brass,
Wide window sills with plants in coloured rows,
Serenity that comes in shining glass.
But these, O Lord are not important things,
Nor will they leave much mark in days to be;
My children will forget their ordered rooms
In after years, but when they think of me,
May they remember I laughed much, and think
Upon the way I shared their gaiety,
And how I read them stories from old books
Of brave fair days,and sometimes made them see
A wider world. O make them understand
That always I have deemed it more my task
To be as understanding as I could,
Than keep clean rugs upon a dusted floor.
( D. Tresidder)
Time travels fast. Thank goodness our memories can keep up.
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Poppy