Friday, March 11, 2011
A Gentle Reminder
I was reminded of this poem by a friend this afternoon...
"Babies Don't Keep"
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockabye, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
-- Author Unknown
I sit here and type with my baby in my sling.
My two year old tornado is all calm and quiet, blissfully napping, resting up for the mischief that must be made this afternoon.
The older two are upstairs, curled up in their own beds with good books.
And the house is quiet. So I write.
This mama still has a whole lot to learn about balance...
about taking life slow.
There are 7 windows open in my browser--evidence of my struggle with focused, purposeful living. I wish I had time to do something with all the ideas that are in my head, but I don't. So I close them all, and sigh peacefully.
Babies don't keep...
Toddlers don't keep either,
nor do four year olds (e-hem, "I'm almost five, Mom!"),
or six year olds.
Ideas come, and ideas go, and writing waits, and my children grow up.
I hear a little blond girl happily singing upstairs...is rest time really over?...and the thought that once made me frown makes me smile.
Yes, there is laundry to do, but she'll help me.
There is homemade granola to pull out of the oven, and homemade hot cocoa to drink--evidences that I am winning the battle against the thief.
And there are dishes to wash,
And supper to prepare,
And a baby in the sling,
And children to teach to love Him more than life itself.
Can I really be happy in this life, serving my God and my husband in my home, if nobody else notices or cares? If what I do here is never recognized, commended, or even valued by the world around me?
Yes, at last,
I think that, maybe,
I can.
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About Me
- Tiana
- I'm a Stay-at-Home, Christian, "crunchy" mama. I have been blessed with the calling to be a godly wife and mother. I am passionate about bringing up my children in the discipline and instruction of the LORD, through home education and discipleship. Helpmeet to my best friend and soulmate, Christopher since 1/29/2000, and mama to four little blessings, including a tiny, precious, newborn baby girl.
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6 comments:
I absolutely adore this post. In a week or two I will be having #3 of 3 under 3 1/2. I find myself needing encouragement like this from mommies such as yourself frequently. It's nice to have these reminders so that maybe just maybe...I want lose sight of what is important.
What a sweet post! All of mine are 6 or older, but sometimes I ask myself the same questions. Can I really be this happy in life serving my God and my husband?
What a beautiful, and true, poem.
Precious, honest, encouraging, compelling. How easily I forget this, and get caught up in the lessons and cleaning and to-do lists...irritated with the little ones while they whine for my attention. WHAT am I thinking???
Thanks for the dose of reality.
Great post! I am looking forward to reading many more!
Visit me on THL if and when you get a chance!
Elizabeth Beck
You can!
(You make my heart smile!)
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