Saturday, February 28, 2009

I Love You Johnny

My sweet friend Sharon sent this to me...


I love you, Johnny, said mother one day,

I love you more than I can say,

Then she answered his questions with,

Don't bother me now!"

And just didn't have time to show him how

To tie his truck to his tractor and plough,

But she washed her windows and scrubbed the floor

And baked and cooked and cleaned some more.

"Bring the boy next door in?" "Well, I should say not,

You'll mess up the floors and I don't want a spot."

"No, we don't have time for a story today,

Mother's too busy cooking, so run out and play,

Maybe tomorrow," she said with a sigh,

And Johnny went out almost ready to cry.

"I love you, Johnny," again she said,

As she washed his face and sent him to bed.

Now how do you think that Johnny guessed

Whether 'twas he or the house that

she really loved best?

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Friday, February 13, 2009

The Challenge of Motherhood

My friend Debbie shared this at bible study last week...


Challenge of Motherhood

"May I lick the beater?"
The child calls from his chair.
There is frosting on his clothing
And frosting in his hair.

Chairs flank both my elbows
While dishes wait once more.
While every step I take, it seems
I'm sticking to the floor.

Wearily, I murmur,
"Fast moves I never make
Small fingers dip in batter
That range from pie to cake.

"How I'd love one moment-
Just one - to work alone!
No sticky fingers, lots of room
A kitchen of my own!"

But, mother, wait a minute!
The days glide swiftly past.
Your little sons and daughters
Are growing up so fast.

Soon they'll leave the home nest
To face life on their own,
And you'll be left to marvel
How rapidly they've flown.

You will miss the prattle
Each sticky, sunny face.
Your kitchen will seem empty
Though everything's in place.

What will they remember?
That harsh impatient word?
Will they learn gems of character
As you they have observed?

"Father, from thy storehouse
Of more abundant grace,
Grant me a wealth of patience
And love to fill my place.

"Grant me joy in duty
To serve them with a smile,
To make their home a haven,
Their childhood days worthwhile."

Sharon Sensenig

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Dirt is good for you?

Here is an interesting article from the New York Times that says we need more dirt in our lives to stay healthy.

Friday, February 06, 2009

Do you wear your family out with your "love"?

A quote from CS Lewis that is probably applicable to all of us at one time or another...

Mrs. Fidget very often said that she lived for her family. And it was not untrue. Everyone in the neighborhood knew it. “She lives for her family,” they said; “what a wife and mother!” She did all the washing; true, she did it badly, and they could have afforded to send it out to a laundry, and they frequently begged her not to do it. But she did. There was always a hot lunch for anyone who was at home and always a hot meal at night (even in midsummer). They implored her not to provide this. They protested almost with tears in their eyes (and with truth) that they liked cold meals. It made no difference. She was living for her family. She always sat up to “welcome” you home if you were out late at night; two or three in the morning, it made no odds; you would always find the frail, pale, weary face awaiting you like a silent accusation. Which meant of course that you couldn’t with any decency go out very often. She was always making things too; being in her own estimation (I’m no judge myself) an excellent amateur dressmaker and a great knitter. And of course, unless you were a heartless brute, you had to wear the things. (The Vicar tells me that, since her death, the contributions of that family alone to the “sales of work” outweigh those of all his other parishioners put together.) And then her care for their health! She bore the whole burden of that daughter’s “delicacy” alone. The Doctor- an old friend, and it was not being done on National Health- was never allowed to discuss matters with his patient. After the briefest examination of her, he was taken into another room by the mother. The girl was to have no worries, no responsibility for her own health. Only loving care, caress, special foods, horrible tonic wines, and breakfast in bed. For Mrs. Fidget, as she so often said, would “work her fingers to the bone” for her family. They couldn’t stop her. Nor could they- being decent people- quietly sit still and watch her do it. They had to help. Indeed they were always having to help. That is, they did things for her to help her do things for them which they didn’t want done. As for the dear dog, it was to her, she said, “Just like one of the children.” It was in fact, as like one of them as she could make it. But since it had no scruples it got on rather better than they, and though vetted, dieted and guarded within an inch of its life, contrived sometimes to reach the dustbin or the dog next door.

The Vicar says Mrs. Fidget is not at rest. Let us hope she is. What’s quite certain is that her family are.

~pg. 50

This quote was originally found here. HT to Pastor Lusk.