Our Lovely Boy

Sometimes God uses children to show us His magnificence. Today, as I listened to a little boy talk of his teacher -the bestest in the world- and his friends -also the bestest- I was reminded of the work God does on a daily basis. It seemed the only thing to do was  to write about this beautiful child and God’s perfect work.

Our Lovely Boy

His chocolate eyes are sparkling bright.
His brown skin glows with health.
His smile can brighten any room;
I bask in it, myself.

He came to us an angry soul,
Surrounded by his rage.
We sheltered him and showered him
With love, applied each day.

And slowly, oh so slowly
His soul turned to the light.
The goodness of a gentle love
Shone strongly through his night.

Today I watched his face alight
With happiness and hope.
I heard him talk of joyous days.
I smiled as he spoke.

Was this the frightened, angry child
We met this time last year?
I do not see his anger now
And where is all that fear?

It’s all of God; His love shone bright
And forced away the pain.
That hurting, hopeless little boy
Will never be the same.

His world is new; he knows he’s loved.
He’s learning everyday
That God is good and though we hurt,
We needn’t stay that way.

So here’s to you, our precious boy.
Your life brings hope anew.
And when I see that lovely smile,
I can’t help smiling too.

Isaiah 54:13 – All your children shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be the peace of your children.

Risey Shiney!!

‘Risey Shiney! Let me hear your feet on the floor’, my mother called up the stairs. She wanted to make sure we would be up before she left for her job as a nurse in a local hospital. A foot or two went obligingly out of the school busblanket on the side of the bed and pounded on the floor. We’re up, someone said, and promptly went back to sleep.

I have fond memories of getting ready for school in the morning. Five girls, four boys and one bathroom. The bathroom was a busy place and when one of us needed to get in we would pound on the door hoping the occupant would hurry. The person in the bathroom would holler ‘Occupied!’ (That word was ours way before the Occupy Wall St people thought of using it.) Many a dance was done outside the bathroom door, accompanied with, ‘Hurry, I gotta goooo.” A sister might open the door and let another sister in because after all two girls can share a bathroom and I remember a few good conversations with one of us on the loo and another at the sink.

Anyway, we would all be scurrying around getting ready and one of us would see the bus coming down the hill past Hergenrother’s farm heading toward our house. The shout would go out, ‘Heeere comes the buuusss.’ (2 syllables on buu…uuss) Here is one of the nice things about big families. We are all in this ‘getting on the bus’ thing together. Invariably one of us was not quite ready – usually it was one of the girls.   ‘Walk slow, walk slow,’ the sluggard would say. So one of the brothers would walk out and when he was almost to the bus, then the second sibling stepped out the door. And the pattern continued. It was a little like a bridal procession. Watch. Wait. Walk. One by one. In this way we could have an extra 2 or 3 minutes and the last person  would have time to take the rollers out of her hair, find schoolbooks, and saunter out of the house just in the nick of time.

At least that’s the way I remember it. And I – and I suspect other of my siblings, nieces and nephews – have used those very same words to raise slumbering children. Risey shiney!

This post isby the second sister and middle child.