Courage

With the dark of night surrounding her like a blanket, shielding her from curious eyes,  shielding her from hurtful barbs shot like darts into her heart. Shielding her from judgmental assumptions, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel of the car and wept. Great heaving sobs held so long inside finally allowed to escape.

It had been a trying  day, week, year!
Teenagers  that decided she was stupid. Comments that showed no gratitude. Kids that like vultures, waited with seemingly anticipation to swoop down and correct and humiliate for the slightest mispronunciation, for the slightest mistake.
Children that didn't include her anymore, didn't share, laugh or visit.
A husband that found more comfort in the arms of his lazy boy then in her arms. .

Tonight  the culmination of the despair and hurt she was feeling  over the  last year hit her. She could feel those tears once more stinging the back of her eyes, tears that had become her unwanted  daily companions of late.She needed to find a place to go. A spot to call her own in her own home.She wandered through  the house searching.

 She looked at the piano bench  covered in coats and shoes and remembered the thousand times she asked that they be put in the hall closet.
 She looked at the office chair by the family computer to find a son engaged in a game. Remembering the thousands of times she reminded him to do his work first and play after.
 She looked into the dining room where her teens were doing their homework, music blaring,  their schoolbags, books, papers scattered everywhere. She thought of the thousands of times she asked they they keep  the school things on the shelf she had provided for them.
 She wandered to the living room where the dog was curled in her chair, and clutter was strewn about the couch and floors and thought of the thousands of times she had encouraged the idea of picking up after oneself.
 She looked up the stairway  where her room was and heard the TV on which meant her husband  was enjoying his favorite pastime, channel surfing. She thought of the thousands of times she begged that they do more together.
She went to the bathroom , her last recourse, to find it occupied.
She looked around and realized yet again, there was no room for her here. There was no corner uniquely her's. She was nothing more then a glorified housekeeper. A stranger in her  house. She grabbed her keys, announced she was going for a ride, got in the car and drove.  She found herself parked in an abandoned field. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel and wept.
And wept.
Then, she prayed! One of those fervent earnest prayers that only come when one is driven to their knees in defeat.
 "It is but a moment," a sweet voice whispered. " I see all you do! I know how you feel" Courage daughter! It is but a moment. Other moments will come in which your children will honor you, in which your husband will confess the blessing you are to him. Other moments will come! Moments when the house is clean and silent and you will long for noise and a mess. Remember my daughter, sometimes the rewards come much later then you would like but ... they do come! Courage my Daughter to be all you should be, can be and  will become!"
With a shuddering breath, and a renewed peace. She wiped her eyes.Threw away the hundreds of used kleenex, took a deep breath and drove home.

She went to the piano bench and picked up the coats, and put away the shoes.
She went to the computer and engaged her son in what the game  was about and how it was played.
She went into the dining room and complimented the teens on doing their homework so diligently.
She went into the living room and shoo'd the dog off her furniture and picked up the clutter.
She went up the stairs to ask her husband what he was watching then joined him.
She went to the bathroom to find it empty, she shut the door, sat on the top of the toilet seat, bowed her head and thanked the Lord for courage. She might, for a time, be a stranger in her own home but she was no stranger to God!

                       

Cookies, Milk and Mother's Love

               


                         The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the air.
                         Mother's in her apron and there's flour in her hair.
                         Her eyes twinkle merrily; she smiles from ear to ear.
                        "Put your school bag down," she says, " and  sit down over here."
                         Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
                         warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.  
                         She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day.
                         The ups and downs, the hurts and joys that came along my way.
                         The politics of recess groups, I did poorly on a test...
                          I argued with my best friend; at spelling I'm the best!
                         She wisely listens then wisely speaks then hugs me,  oh, so tight!
                         Cookies, milk and Mother's love; I know things will be alright!

The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the room.
Mother's in her apron and there's batter on her spoon.
Her eyes twinkle welcomingly. She smiles from ear to ear.
"Put your work bag down, she says, " and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day.
The ups and downs, the hurts and joys that came along my way.
The politics and red tape I must constantly wade through
I argued with a co-worker, the planned project I got to do.
She sympathetically listens, then sympathetically speaks, then hugs me, oh, so tight.
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.

                   The smell of baking cookies is wafting oh so sweet!
                   Mother's in her apron and there's sugar on her cheek.
                   Her eyes twinkle nervously, she smiles from ear to ear.
                   "Put your car keys down," she says, " and sit down over here."
                   Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see,
                   Warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
                   She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my date.
                   The butterflies in my stomach, the dinner that we ate.
                   The getting on one knee, the joy of her tearful, "YES!"
                   The politics of planning now, the wondering what comes next.
                   She excitedly listens then excitedly speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight.
                   Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.

The smell of baking cookies is wafting through the place.
Mother's in her apron and there's butter on her face.
Her eyes twinkle happily, she smiles from ear to ear.
"Put that diaper bag down," she says, and sit down over here."
Then she joins me at the table, the toddler sleeps across my knee
warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk are waiting there for me.
She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my week.
The ups and downs of parenting, and some advice I seek.
The teens are being sassy, this little one's a joy!
Three girls now and counting ,we hope the next one is a boy.
She knowingly listens then knowingly speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight;
Cookies, milk and Mother's love, I know things will be alright.

                         The smell of baking cookies greets me at the door
                         Grandma's in her apron and there's flour on the floor.
                         Her eyes twinkle lovingly, she smiles from ear to ear.
                         "Put your overnight bag down, she says, and sit down over here."
                         Then she joins me at the table where at my spot I see
                         Warm, fresh cookies and ice cold milk waiting there for me.
                         She gives me her full attention as I tell her about my day;
                         the ups and downs the hurts and joys that came along my way.
                         The politics of siblings, the chores that are all mine;
                         How tough to be the only boy,  my sisters bug me all the time.
                         She wisely listens then wisely speaks then hugs me, oh, so tight;
                         Cookies, milk and Grandma's love, I know things will be alright.
                                             Julianna D. Bradley (JDB) 2011, July


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