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:

http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/the-million-line-poem/

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,
debilitating
disease.
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
injustice
of it.

Then I saw my
message.

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*

Hi there, Hero.

You know, it occurred to me today that I haven't heard much lately about our men and women in the armed services - beyond the verbal skirmishes about the pros and cons of their returning home from certain occupied countries.  

Sometimes, in the rush and bother of our day-to-day lives, it's easy to forget what they're doing, isn't it?  At least for a small space of time.  I, personally, believe that is truly tragic.   

Below you'll find an open letter I've written to these very important people.  I hope you'll take the time to read it.  But more than that, if you know someone in the service, I hope you'll pass it on. 

Thanks!




Hi there, Hero:
My name is Robyn. I'm a housewife, (proud) mom, professional school volunteer, part-time speaker and budding author. I don't have any degrees, or fancy diplomas. I'm not a doctor, a lawyer or an Indian chief.  *smile*   I'm just a simple country gal stringing a bunch of letters and words together for some really important folks. Bear with me. You just grab hold and we'll see where we end up.

I've been having a hard time trying to figure out exactly where to start this conversation. It's funny. I'm a really loud, kind of obnoxious, out-spoken person in real life. I have one of those laughs that you can hear from across the room (which I hate.) But it would probably surprise some people to learn I also have a bashful side, and it's hard to know quite where to begin a new friendship...especially one as important as this one. Your friendship and respect mean a lot to me, 'cause YOU mean a lot to me.

I think about you a great deal. Wherever you are, doing that thing you do; for me and my family. Now, I realize you may not be thinking of ME and my particular family while you're doing your job, but it works out just the same.

I respect you a lot. And I know my day-to-day world is able to keep spinning on its axis because you DO keep doing that thing you do.

For example, my kids get up and go to school each and every morning.

Here in our quaint little town in North Alabama, there are three elementary schools. When my children were smaller - we CHOSE the one our children attended. (BTW, my son used to shower and get ready for school the night before - clothes and all, and then jump into bed. Did any of you ever do anything so silly?)

Tomorrow morning, on Sunday, I'll get up and listen to my 15-year-old daughter excitedly preparing for the church services we CHOOSE to attend. My 19-year-old son will stay home, because he has made a CHOICE to leave our faith for the present time (and break our hearts.)

On the way, we'll pass some construction projects - yep, things have slowed down some. But they're still there, and thank goodness, too. My family happens to be in the Building Supply business.

But I know who to thank when I see a contractor leaning a ladder against a new house frame. And if he's a smart contractor, he'll whisper a prayer of thanks with every board he secures and every nail he hammers down, because a United States Serviceman helped put him on that ladder.

After church services, my family will decide whether to come home for lunch or to eat out. That's a privilege we enjoy that many others don't, and we know it. Later in the evening, we'll playfully argue about which channel and show to watch on TV, or if we should turn it off all together. (HA!)

Sometime next week, I'll end up at the grocery store - and I may accidently find myself fussing because I have too many boxes of cereal to choose from.

In about ten months, I will get to choose whether I will stay home or head out to vote. (For the record, I will be at the polls.)

And because of you, I can complain about all of the above.

I wanted to let you know that I realize it's the job you do that allows me and my family to make these day-to-day decisions. We are able to walk freely, worship freely, and work freely.  We LIVE freely each moment of our lives - thanks to you..

Not only that, but you are willing to do for me what I am not willing to do for myself.  I can't even begin to wrap my mind around the courage it takes to do what you do. To say I admire you is almost an insult. You ARE my Hero.

I'm just a little teary now - but before I go, let me say it as plainly as I can. Thank You. From the bottom of my heart. You are part of a long line of brave men and women willing to put others before themselves, and America above all.

God bless you, and God bless The United States of America. Now and forever.

Sincerely,
Robyn Corum
2/2012