Pictures
I'm in my living room as I write this. It's peaceful and quiet in here. Very welcoming. This room, along with the kitchen, is the hub of the house. Many a pleasant memory was made here. Laughter, hugs, tears, nursing babies, bedtime stories, reading, and many prayers.
On the piano are pictures of the most important people in the world to me. Gordon and I share a frame and then the children stretch out in framed splendor. The pictures of the kids are not in any particular order, at least not to an onlooker. But there is an order to me.
Presently, Hannah's picture is closest to mine. Hannah is getting an extra dose of prayers these days. She's closest to my heart at this time, so I moved her picture next to mine. Several weeks ago, Christopher had the #1 spot and leading up to her wedding, Stephanie did. The order of the pictures is constantly revolving.
I read a poem once about a mother being asked if she had a favorite child. She replied, "of course I do." Then she went on to say something to the affect that her favorite child is the one who is sick, until he was well; the one who is away, until he returns home safely; the one who is hurting, until the hurt subsides. Although I can't recall the exact words, the idea has stayed with me.
Every morning when I sit down in this dim living room, I look to the pictures on the piano and I pray. I have many good reasons for praying, but those six pictures represent my greatest reasons.
On the piano are pictures of the most important people in the world to me. Gordon and I share a frame and then the children stretch out in framed splendor. The pictures of the kids are not in any particular order, at least not to an onlooker. But there is an order to me.
Presently, Hannah's picture is closest to mine. Hannah is getting an extra dose of prayers these days. She's closest to my heart at this time, so I moved her picture next to mine. Several weeks ago, Christopher had the #1 spot and leading up to her wedding, Stephanie did. The order of the pictures is constantly revolving.
I read a poem once about a mother being asked if she had a favorite child. She replied, "of course I do." Then she went on to say something to the affect that her favorite child is the one who is sick, until he was well; the one who is away, until he returns home safely; the one who is hurting, until the hurt subsides. Although I can't recall the exact words, the idea has stayed with me.
Every morning when I sit down in this dim living room, I look to the pictures on the piano and I pray. I have many good reasons for praying, but those six pictures represent my greatest reasons.
posted by Valerie Dykstra @ 1/18/2006 02:35:00 PM
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