Sunday, July 2, 2017


I talked to my son today, so far away—New Zealand.  When did he become a man?  When did he go so far away?  
            I talked to my daughters today—here, not New Zealand.  When did they become young women, here taking care of me?
            I treasure today, but miss my young ones here with me at home.

            Today I found a poem by Ruth Bell Graham and remembered.
                                    I climbed the hills
                                    through yesterday:
                                    and I am young
                                    and strong again;
                                    my children climb
                                    these hills with me,
                                    and all the time
                                    they shout and play;
                                    their laughter fills
                                    the coves among
                                    the rhododendron and the oak
                                    till we have struggled to
                                    the ridge top
                                    where the chestnuts grew.
                                    Breathless, tired, and content
                                    we let the mountain
                                    breeze blow through
                                    our busy minds
                                    and through our hair
                                    refresh our bodies hot and spent
                                    and drink
                                    from some cool mountain spring,
                                    the view refreshing everything—
                                    Infinity, with hills between,
                                    Silent, hazy, wild-serene.
                                    Then . . .
                                    when I return to now
                                    I pray,
                                    “Thank You, God,
                                    for yesterday.”

                   Thank You for the memories.

                                                            Faith Himes Lamb

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