Wednesday, April 04, 2012

Babies Don't Keep

The other night Peter slept next to me. It had been a hard day.  We had gotten lots of work done, but I had pushed him a lot, and I was anxious that he still wasn't catching on to reading yet. I felt tense, and worried, unsure and a little frustrated. I knew I needed to see my son with fresh eyes.

I gazed at my 6 year-old-boy and expected to see what I always see when I look at my little ones sleeping.  You know how they look just like babies when they sleep...but instead, this time, I suddenly saw him mature, and he looked about ten years older!!  I inwardly exclaimed, "NO! I'm not ready!!" And I frantically held him fast with my eyes thinking maybe if I can freeze him in time he won't grow up so fast!  Then I really looked closely, and realized...Hey! He's going to be a wonderful 16yr-old!  I have nothing to worry about. Still,  I must enjoy him now, laugh and cuddle, memorize him and love on him, as much as I can, because he will grow up and move away from me, and I will never have this time with him again.  I thought of my 3 children, each such miracles in their own way, each so unique, and yet so similar. I thought, "Am I enjoying them? Am I enjoying this journey? Am I giving thanks?"  I feel as though my Heavenly Father was sending me this message:

Dear Daughter, 

I see you and know what you're doing. Stop rushing and fretting. Let Go. Bask in grateful love right now!!  I am with you.

Love, Father

Then a few days later I came across this on :

Babies Don't Keep

Mother, O' Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth.
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek - peekaboo.

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew,
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo.
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton