It’s my day to blog over at Inspire a Fire. It’s just a short sweet post about childhood memories including my own version of George Ella Lyon’s poem Where I’m From. If need a creative challenge on this lovely Saturday, try writing your own Where I’m From. It’s a lot of fun (unless you are not a word person, in which case it could be a torturous experience.) Where I’m From – Family Heritage @ Inspire a Fire.
Tonight begins Middle School Moms group at my house. (I know it’s a terribly creative name isn’t it?) As I sit wondering about the moms I’m going to get to know better and the kids I’m going to have the opportunity to pray for this summer, I am reminded of this poem I wrote a couple years ago. A poem about a little boy who still lives in the world where holding mama’s hand in public is as natural as giggling with his friends. I have one boy who holds my hand still, but time moves fast, and middle-schoolers love their mama in…
The Harms and Skow boys in a rare moment of stillness. My friend (the one I wrote about here) recently reworked some children’s poems for The Des Moines Moms Blog. She is one of the few people in the this world who can make me laugh and cry at the same time, which is just what I did when I read these for the first time the other day. If you are in the mood for a good laugh/cry, read on… “You Are My I Love You” – (Original) Maryann K. Cusimano I am your…
I am not enough To undo my mistakes, to answer my own prayers To make myself compassionate when I simply don’t care. To give joyfully each time, to love those I don’t like, To succeed without pride, to submit without a fight. I am not enough To seize every moment, to savor every gift To put playtime above laundry on my to-do list. To ease the worries that find their way inside. To overcome the insecurities I so like to hide. I am not enough But I know the One who is. The One who Forgives my mistakes and answers…
Because sometimes milestones can be equally joy-filled and heart-breaking. “Mom, let go.” * Three small words A punch to the gut Tears behind sunglasses Broken heart * Black bicycle seat Released from my grasp Unfettered boy Riding free * Simple mastery of Two-wheels But to me It is more * He can do it On his own Reliance on me Ever decreasing * A mama’s pride Mingled with loss Most heart-wrenching Mix of emotions * Down the path He pedals alone Grinning, bursting with Joy of independence * Bless that boy Father I pray And comfort the mama Who let…