My Parents

I was looking for a specific memento today. I had a good idea where it was, but wasn't certain of the exact box. I climbed under our basement stairs in the alcove that we use as storage and began removing boxes one by one from the shelves. As I took off each lid, I was taken back to my childhood. Pictures, awards, letters, trinkets--these were windows to my past. 

I brought up one of the boxes to share the memories with my kids. In it were a few of my old Awana books (why did I even keep them?). I had told the kids how different the books were from the one that they use now. Today I showed them. We read stories I had written, laughed at silly poems I composed, and realized that once-upon-a-time I wasn't too bad at drawing (when did that change?). 

Tucked deep into the box was a handful of loose stationery dated July 10, 1995. I was 13 years old and wrote this poem for my parents:

I Love You

If I could have one wish,

I'd tell you what it would be.

It wouldn't be gold or diamonds

Or money just for me.

I'd wish for the great parents

That I have today

For they always make me happy

And turn the sky from blue to gray.

My parents love and care for me

And that to me is kind,

And if I look for better parents,

I could never find.

I love my parents very much

Although it might not show.

I wanted to tell them how I felt,

but how I did not know!

I tried to pick Mom flowers 

And for Dad some macadamia nuts,

But whenever I touched the roses

All over my hand I got cuts.

I thought to help around the house

And do some extra chores.

I could vacuum, dust, mop, and clean,

And then wash all the doors. 

But what I wanted to do for them

Was something that would last much longer

Just to show them that my love 

Was ever so much stronger.

The idea finally hit me,

And I knew what to do.

I would write them a poem

that said, "I love you!"

I decided to share it here, not because of my rhyming skills, ha, but because all those years ago I wanted to give them something that "would last much longer." It's been 24 years, and though I had forgotten about the poem, my feelings are the same. 

My parents truly are the greatest. Now I get to see their love toward not only me, but my husband and 5 children, as well. Selfless. Giving. Loving. 

We are beyond blessed. 

Ode to Our Table

Leighton just recently finished building a new dining room table and benches that he designed for us. Our old table had seen better days, but I was thankful for it, for many reasons. I thought I'd write a poem in honor of it. Yes, it's meant to be silly, but this poem tells a story about our lives. It also reminds us to be thankful for what we have, even when it doesn't always match up to what we want.

Ode to Our Table

You came to us so long ago, 

When we had a need.

Your $50 price tag 

Was perfect, we agreed.

Your oblong shape filled the space

With no room to spare.

It was a tight fit and way too big,

But we just didn't care.

Over time our family grew

And then the chairs were filled.

We added one and then two,

And we around you spilled.

Your legs were sturdy, top was strong

As little ones abused you.

Science projects, arts and crafts--

We lovingly used you.

Your finish has been scratched and chipped;

Your top splattered with paint.

For all that we've put you through,

You really are a saint.

Our favorite memories took place 

With you by our side.

We've shared our days and discussed our dreams.

We've laughed and we've cried.

But time goes on and people grow.

Now our needs have changed.

Your bulky structure no longer fits.

Please don't think it's strange. 

Oh, Table, we thank you,

For all your years of service.

Another family has need of you.

Please don't be nervous.

We'll always have our memories

And our pictures, too,

To remind us of your faithfulness.

Oh, Table, we thank you.

P.S. That table has already been picked up by an elderly gentleman who refinishes furniture. He's going to fix it up, re-stain it, and bring new life to it. I see that table blessing another family for many years. If it could come alive, oh, what memories it would have.