Poems, Prayers & Promises

POEMS

Family Man
 1)  Children are not pets.
 2)  The life they actually live and the life you perceive them to be living is not the same life.
 3)  Don't take what your children do too personally.
 4)  Don't keep scorecards on them--a short memory is useful.
 5)  Dirt and mess are a breeding ground for well-being.
 6)  Stay out of their rooms after puberty.
 7)  Stay out of their friendships and love-life unless invited in.
 8)  Don't worry that they never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.
 9)  Learn from them; they have much to teach you.
10)  Love them long; let them go early

Finally, a Footnote.  You will never really know what kind of parent you were or if you did it right or wrong.  Never.  And you will worry about this and them as long as you live.  But when your children have children and you watch them do what  they do, you will have part of the answer.     --Robert Fulghum

The above was given to my husband, from my mother, on Fathers Day 1992, right before the birth of our first daughter, Kristin.

I've Always Loved You Best
To the firstborn...I've always loved you best because you were our first miracle.  You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of young love, the promise of our infinity.
You sustained us through the hamburger years:  the first apartment furnished in Early Poverty...our first mode of transportation (our 1986 Mazda pickup)...the 7 inch TV set we paid on for 36 months.
Your wore new, had unused grandparents and more clothes than a Barbie doll.  Your were the original model for unsure parents trying to  work the bugs out.  You got the strained lamb, backwards diapers, and three hour naps.
You were the beginning.
To the middle child(ren)...I've always loved you best because you drew a dumb spot in the family and it made  you stronger for it.  (think about this line...I had to)
You cried less, had more patience, wore faded and never in your life did anything first, but it only made you more special.  You are the one we relaxed with and  realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick.  Your could cross a street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married, and the world wouldn't come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet.
You were the continuance
To the baby...I've always loved you best because endings generally are sad and you are such a joy.  You readily accepted the milk-stained bibs.  The lower bunk.  The cracked baseball bat.  The baby book, barren but for a recipe for graham piecrust that someone jammed between the pages.
You are the one we held on to so tightly.  For, you see, you are the link with the past that gives a reason to  tomorrow.  You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision and give us humor that security and maturity can't give us. 
When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your  children tower over you, you will still be "the baby"
You were the culmination
Taken from one of my favorite authors--Erma Bombeck--Forever Erma

You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turnout to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes.
~Walter M. Schirra, Sr.~

I received this quote in one of my E-mails from
Susan Chartier at: http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Plains/6879

Come in, but don't expect to find
All dishes done, all floors ashine
Observe the crumbs and toys galore
The smudgy-prints upon the door.
The little ones we shelter here
Don't thrive on a spotless atmosphere
They're more inclined to disarray
And carefree even messy play.
Their needs are great, their patience small
All day I'm at their beck and call
It's Mommy come! Mommy see!
Wiggly worms and red scraped knee.
Painted pictures, blocks piled high
My floors unshined, the days go by
Some future day they'll flee this nest
And I at last will have a rest!
Now you tell me which matters more?
A happy child or a polished floor?

The Time Is Now

If you are ever going to love me,
Love me now, while I can know
The sweet and tender feelings
Which from true affection flow. 
Love me now While I am living, 
Do not wait until I'm gone
And then have it chiseled in marble,
Sweet words on ice-cold stone.
If you have tender thoughts of me,
Please tell me now.
If you wait until I am sleeping,
Never to awaken,
There will be death between us,
And I won't hear you then. 
So, if you love me, even a little bit,
Let me know it while I am living
So I can treasure it.

These words were found on a picture frame that belonged to my grandmother.  Everytime I spoke with her, I told her I loved her, I know she is smiling down on me from heaven.

The Story of a Father and His Daughter
A baby girl is born.  Simultaneously, from amid the ranks of ordinary men, there emerges a mightily courageous, gallant man--who is quaking in his shoes.
As they grow together, the girl comes to know that her father is no ordinary man.  He can hear the sound of the sun pushing the clouds out of her world, and he helps her to hear it, too.  He can taste the worst cookies that she will make and then eat three or four more from the same batch.  He can touch the stars and pull them a little closer to  her.  He can see the fire of youthful puppy love burning in her heart...
No, this father is no ordinary man.  He has a body to shield his daughter from strangers, big dogs, and noisy things; a broad expanse of chest to  nestle against; and an arm to pillow her heard while watching television.  He has two strong arms to hold her up to touch the sky, to see inside a bird's nest, or to fly like an airplane.
Fearlessly, this father and  daughter adventure into the realms of surprise.  Together, they open doors and share peeks at monsters; with him, she is never afraid.  He is there for her first bike ride.  He is flowers picked to tickle her nose, shaving cream dabbed on her face, and a good-night kiss in the dark when he come home late and thinks she is asleep.
In her teenage years, he teaches her to respect herself and others.  He is always proud of her for trying new things; she doesn't always have to win.  He is a wealth of truth in the midst of peer group untruths, an impatient driving instructor, and a light in the window at midnight on a Friday night.  He is the firm  cornerstone of the family who gives her values to believe in, a heritage she feels worthy of, and an urgency for living her life completely.
Now in her adulthood, he could slow down a bit, but he won't.  He still utilizes his many resources to teach his daughter well, and somehow his mere presence continues to trigger the potential in her.
So what does a daughter say to this man of subtle sensitivities and infinite wisdom?  She says this..."I Love You, Daddy" ---------------------------------

The above was written by Elaine C. Frantz, and was given to my father.  If anyone wants to know what he is about and what kind of father he is, that story tells it all!

Continue On

A woman once fretted over the usefulness of her life.  She feared she was  wasting her potential being a devoted wife and mother.  She wondered if the time and energy she invested in her husband and children would make a difference.
At times she got discouraged because so much of what she did seemed to go unnoticed and unappreciated.  "Is it worth it?" she often wondered.  "Is there something better that I could be doing with my time?"
It was during one of these moments of questioning that she heard the still small voice of her heavenly Father speak to her heart.  "You are a wife and mother because that is what I have called you to be.  Much of what you do is hidden from the public eye.  But I notice.  Most of what you give is done without remuneration.  But I am your reward.
Your husband cannot be the man I have called him to be without your support.  Your influence upon him is greater than you think and more powerful than you will ever know.  I bless him through your service and honor him through your love.  Your children are precious to Me.  Even more precious than they are to you.  I have entrusted them to your care to raise for me.  What you invest in them is an offering to me.
Your may never be in the public spotlight.  But your obedience shines as a bright light before me.  Continue on.  Remember you are my servant.  Do all to please Me.
Roy Lessin

For the life of me, I can't understand what could have gone wrong in Littleton, Colo. If only the parents had  kept their children away from the guns, we wouldn't have had such a tragedy. Yeah, it must have been the guns.
It couldn't have been because half of our children are being raised in broken homes.
It couldn't have been  because our children get to spend an average of 30 seconds in meaningful conversation with their parents each day. After all we give our children quality time.
It couldn't have been because we treat our children as pets and our  pets as children.
It couldn't have been because we place our children in day care centers where they learn their socialization skills among their peers under the law of the jungle while employees who have no vested interest in the children look on and make sure that no blood is spilled.
It couldn't have been because we allow our children to watch, on average, seven hours of television a day filled with the glorification of sex and violence that isn't fit for adult consumption.
It couldn't have been because we allow (or even encourage) our children to enter into virtual worlds in which, to win the game, one must kill as many opponents as possible in the most sadistic way  possible.
It couldn't have been because we have sterilized and contracepted our families down to sizes so small that the children we do have are so spoiled with material things that they come to equate the receiving of the material with love.
It couldn't have been because our children, who historically have been seen as a blessing from God, are now being viewed as either a mistake created when contraception fails or inconveniences that parents try to raise in their spare time.
It couldn't have been because we give two-year prison sentences to teen-agers who kill their newborns.
It couldn't have been because our school systems teach the children that they are  nothing but glorified apes who have revolutionized out of some primordial soup of mud...
It couldn't have been because we teach our children that there are no laws of morality that transcend us, that everything is relative and  that actions don't have consequences. What the heck, the president gets away with it.
Nah, it must have been the guns.
Paul Harvey

DRINKING FROM MY SAUCER

I've never made a fortune
and it's probably too late now.
But I don't worry about that much,
I'm happy anyhow.

And as I go along life's way,
I'm reaping better than I sowed.
I'm drinking from my saucer,
'Cause my cup has overflowed.

Haven't got a lot of riches,
and sometimes the going's tough.
But I've got loving ones around me,
and that makes me rich enough.

I thank God for his blessings,
and the mercies He's bestowed.
I'm drinking from my saucer,
'cause my cup has overflowed.

O, Remember times when things went wrong,
My faith wore somewhat thin.
But all at once the dark clouds broke,
and sun peeped through again.

So Lord, help me not to gripe about
the tough rows that I've hoed.
I'm drinking from my saucer,
'Cause my cup has overflowed.

If God gives me strength and courage,
when the way grows steep and rough.
I'll not ask for other blessings,
I'm already blessed enough.

And may I never be too busy,
to help others bear their loads.
Then I'll keep drinking from my saucer,
'Cause my cup has overflowed.

MY LITTLE ANGELS

Oh my little angles

You are the flesh and blood

Of my flesh and blood.

It was God who breathed life into you

And, for me, that was his greatest gift of all.

And now as I watch you sleeping

 I am still lost in wonder

At the miracle of your birth,

And lost for words to describe

The blessings you have brought me.

Where once my life seemed

 sometimes empty and futile

Now you fill me up and give me reason to live.

In a world full of suspicion, dishonesty and distrust

You, my little angels, are an open book.

 When I am weak, you give me strength.

When I am drifting, you are my anchor.

Yesterday I found you weeping over a broken toy

And I wanted to cry as I held you in my arms,

And when the day comes that I find you weeping

over a broken heart

I know I'll want to die too, but I'll still be here to

comfort you.

 Oh my little angels,

Whatever befalls you in the years ahead

May the Lord above, who gave you to me,

Hold you in the hollow of his hand

Roma Downey

I dedicate this poem to my youngest child, Maeghan.  I hope she never has to endure the pain of a miscarriage, but if she does, I hope this makes a difference....

A DIFFERENT CHILD

People notice There's a special glow around you.

You grow Surrounded by love, Never doubting you are  wanted; Only look at the pride and joy In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes Between the smiles There's a trace of tears, One day You'll understand.

You'll understand There was once another child A different child Who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes That child will never keep them up at night In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.

Except sometimes, in a silent moment, When mother and father miss so much That different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly And may you learn the lesson forever How infinitely precious How infinitely fragile Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman You may see another mother's tears Another father's silent grief Then you, and you alone Will understand And offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost, You will tell them With great compassion, "I know how you feel. I'm only here Because my mother tried again."

Pandora MacMillian

This poem is for our oldest daughter Kristin (recently diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome, OCD, ADHD and Social Anxiety Disorder)....and to all of the wonderful children out there who struggle everyday to be accepted.  May they one day be liked for who they are, have lots of friends, and be the first to be picked.....

"Welcome to Holland" By Emily Perl
Kingsley, 1987. All rights reserved.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising
a child with a disability - to try to help people who
have not shared that unique experience to understand
it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a
fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of
guide books and make your wonderful plans. The
Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in
Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian.
It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally
arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several
hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in
and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I
signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All
my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've
landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to
a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of
pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different
place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you
must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a
whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than
Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been
there for a while and you catch your breath, you look
around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has
windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has
Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from
Italy... and they're all bragging about what a
wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of
your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was
supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go
away...because the loss of that dream is a very very
significant loss. But...if you spend your life
mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you
may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very
lovely things ... about Holland.