The Race
I look in the mirror and stare at my face, and sadly realize I'm losing the race.
A race that can't be won by mere mortal man, a race that's been fought since time first began.
Are those my eyes, encircled with lines? Can those dull, straight gray hairs truly be mine?
Where did that extra chin come from? It seems an old lady I've slowly become.
But wait! A closer look reveals so much more....I wonder why I never saw it before!
The lines mean that, to me, laughter is not new, and the grey in my hair is a beautiful hue!
The face that I see in the mirror today is a face that has surely come a long way.
Full of character, wisdom, and the strength to be bold; at peace with itself, not the least bit old!
Perhaps the race really can be won - the secret lies in the way that it's run.
Stop counting the
years, and count in their stead, the joys of the past and the years still
ahead.
Grandma
I used to think that 'Grandma' was a word that meant old age...
But that sure has changed since the baby arrived; my life has turned a new page!
I have been blessed, you see, with a gift more precious than gold.
A lively little bundle of joy that will keep me from
getting old.
That cute little bundle of dimples and cheeks has sure made a difference 'round here!
Since the baby arrived to make all that noise, peace and quiet seems sort of queer!
I simply don't have time to get VERY old, what with all this running around..
Taking pictures, changing diapers, and bragging all over town!
Old ladies can't roll around on the floor, you see, with their grandchildren at all.
they can't stand on their head, or help fly a kite, or play catch with a rubber ball.
They can't go shopping for hours on end, or go to the amusement park,
Or sit through a 4-hour high school play, or tell scary tales in the dark.
Old ladies have to sit and rock and knit, and fuss with their light blue hair.
I have grandchildren to play with, though, so you won't find me in a rocking chair!
I'll be right in the center of all this hoop-la, happily taking part.
And in years to come, with the good Lord's help, you will find me in this child's heart.
(written for Sydney the day she was born)
Grandpa's Hands
His hands were rough from years of toil, chopping the wood and tending
the soil, Weathered by too many hours in
the sun...and more work still, when the day was done.
Crippled by age, chapped by the cold, trembling hands that too soon grew old.
Hands that had worked through times
good and bad...Hands that had known days that were
sometimes happy, often sad.
Old and rough and crippled they might be, but those hands were so much more to me.
Those were the hands that patted my head, those were the hands that tucked me in bed.
Those were the hands that guided my way, and showed me the possibilities of each new day.
Those were the hands that gently taught right from wrong, and always were sure and steady and strong.
Those hands are still now, gently at rest. Sure in the knowledge that they passed the test.
Those hands are above me, still, guiding my way, and will be forever, until my last day.
(written for my grandfather...he was born blind, but could always see more
than me)
SUGAR
(written for my daughter)
You are here for a visit, a woman grown and gone from home.
I slip into your room and see you sleeping all alone.
I see a lady lying peacefully in slumber, but in my heart she's not there..
My heart sees a little girl, tightly hugging a teddy bear.
I watch your face, so calm and still, and know that the worries of the world
Are gone for now, swept from your mind, quiet slumber softly unfurled.
I remember back to long ago, to a time when innocence was still there.
Your face was soft and chubby and sweet, not a worry or a care.
I hear the sound of your laughter, I see you happily at play...
Curious about this brand new, shiny day.
Tiny arms around my neck, angel kisses on my cheek,
Silly giggles, heartbroken sobs, watching for Santa with sly little peeks.
I creep silently from your room, leaving the woman who lies there now.
I want to bring those days back again, but can't figure out how...
When suddenly it dawns on me...I've had them all along,
Tucked away in my heart, where they will always be, a memory, protected and strong.
You won't know, when you wake, that I was there, watching you sleep
And looking over the memories and wonders of a child you are given to keep.
God doesn't take away the child when the woman is finally here,
But locks the child within a mother's heart to stay there all her years.
I close the door softly, smiling to myself.
You still have your Snoopy Doll lying on a shelf.
Love, Mom
SPICE
(written for my son)
When the phone rings, I think 'maybe, just maybe, it will be you'
But it seldom is. You are a man, with many things to do.
You'll never know how hearing the words "Hi Mom, it's me" makes my heart soar;
When the words are done, the man goes on, but the mom still wants more.
You were such a joy as a boy, climbing and running and sending laughter all around.
But the man is busy, taking care of new concerns he has found.
My wish for you is just one day, in the middle of all life's cares,
Filled with candy, friends, bikes and toys, new socks and teddy bears.
Those days are gone, but in my heart they live on....
You are still a child to me.
I show the world my grown-up man, and prouder I never could be.
But late at night I go back to that world where we had such innocent fun,
And once again, if the phone should ring, I answer it on the run.
Love, Mom
