Thursday, February 23, 2012

I Watched Her

Before I get to today's post, I want to tell you about a really cool thing I found yesterday.  There's a website that's creating a Million-Line Poem!  And people like you and me can help make it happen...and don't worry, you don't have to be an amazing words-smith to participate.  You simply submit a couplet, or two lines.  That's it.  You need to at least go check it out.  You'll find the poem at:

if you decide to submit, tell them robyn corum sent you!  *smile*

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Now, if you'll remember, today is "Celebration Thursday!"  The day I've set aside to honor the 'common folk' among use who live their lives in uncommon, inspiring ways.  Since I haven't had anyone offer suggestions (shame on you!), I have my own hero to honor today.  Her name is Bea Woodard.  The poem below was written about 20 years ago...but I remember it like it was yesterday.  She is still a strong example as far as I'm concerned.  She lost her son since this poem was written, but she manages to find joy in life.  I find joy in her.  Thanks, Bea.

I Watched Her

I saw a lady who knew
she only had her child for a short while.
Her boy has a crippling,
Each day is filled with heartache
as he slowly loses
the fight for his life.
But she, through the pain, manages to find joy.

I watched her.

She made a pallet on the floor for him.
She had brought
pillows and blankets and
all the equipment she would need...

Though he is a young teen,
he is more like a helpless baby,
than most babies are.

She carefully and lovingly
lifted him from his wheelchair to
the simple bed. She climbed onto the floor and
propped him against
her lap and chest.

I watched her.

We were in the nursery at church services.
She doesn't allow this 'problem' to
keep her
from the assembly.

God bless her energy and
her example.

We listened to the message
as it squawked through the speaker provided.

I couldn't help but think
I was witnessing a greater sermon
than the one being taught in the auditorium.

I watched her.

As I rocked my newborn baby.

She stroked his back and neck.
He moaned. A continual sound. She hummed.
He was as comfortable as she could make him.

There was a washrag handy, so she could gently wipe
the drool that escaped from his lips.

She held one of his hands tenderly in her own.
She caressed it lightly, thoughtfully,
and somehow
I knew exactly what she was doing...

memorizing every detail.

She traced each finger; his hand; the small frail arm;
burning the memory into her mind.
For one day.

I watched her.

And I wanted to cry out at the horrible
of it.

Then I saw my

Am I different?
I'm promised no more than this.

The reality is that
she KNOWS.

I love my children; care for them; expecting
that I'll always have them.
How many things today did I take for granted?

How many moments did I miss?
How many times today was I so wrapped up in my little one
that my older child went hungry for my attention?

How many times today could I have loved my children more?
Touched them?
Thanked my Wonderful God for them?

I watched her.

And then, finally, I turned to the tiny infant lying at my breast,
and I cried.


Thanks for reading!  See you tomorrow! 
PS - Go hug your child.  *smile*

1 comment:

  1. I remember this very well! Awesome then and Awesome now! Still makes me cry!