“I do” whispered between 2
And a home was born
Where one day 3 were gathered
In the great green room and a red balloon
Where cows jumped over the moon
And 3 became 4
And the little cowboy lassoed his imagination
Into a hero in boots
And 4 became 5
And giggles rippled over the story
Of Uncle Remus and the crabs boring a hole
Into the earth’s center creating the great flood
5 became 6
When the Benjamin bunnies ate lettuces leading to
Sophoric sleeps amidst danger stewing and risking flopsy slippers
6 became 7 where we didn’t just love to the moon
But to God’s beard
And back
Night time sings of 10 in the Bed
Each little one said
Roll over
Roll over
Wrapped in blue cotton blankets
And unconditional love
Home read like a story book
Between little bears and their mama and daddy
Tis a gift
To be simple
To be free
Where we ought to be
home
Home just isn’t just sweet memories, bedtime stories and sings.
I asked my bed-time chronicler and my saucy little one if they wanted me to sing the other night – quirky smiles crossed their faces as each laughed a sighing ‘No.” Home for them is still blue cotton blankets, excitement over favorite muffins and mom reminding them to brush their teeth, say their prayers and share their hearts, finish their homework, math with dad.
Home for my senior is a cage from which to break free. Muffins, blankets, mom saying anything are reduced value, comfortless, spurned. Sometimes home is a battlefield – one battling for independence – the other battling to life save. Sometimes one has to feel caged by the nest before they can soar.
Another son, he felt the same way, couldn’t wait to break free from this cage. Anything was better than home. Basic training built an appreciation for blue cotton blankets, mom’s sandwiches and hearty soups, a refreshing place, comforting, coffee in the pot, grace to grow, a place to find peace.
He gives his little brothers a hard time. The saucy one gives it back, “What – you’re 20 and living at home.”
The older brother, he smiles sheepishly, but knows he’s working, he’s saving, planning for college – and a career God put on his heart – recognizing that God put it on his heart.
The prodigal returned home, to receive grace and grow in it willingly.
Home is the launch pad for God’s plan.
A home built with love, faith and hope opens it doors in welcome, for growing, for things like forgiveness and refreshing, for launching to soar.
Home is painted, tiled, shuttered and aired with all kinds of sentences – some regretted, some held close, some God-inspired, some evidence of our human fraility, some railing, some beautiful loving, comforting – like a blue cotton blanket. Some best foregotten; some never to be forgotten.
Home leaves the door open for restoration like unconditional love leaves the heart open.
The son, who railed at the cage and returned home to grow in the refreshing of it, he leaves for tank training in a few weeks and deployment in October. The journey of what home has meant to him has been like the journey of a prayer answered.
This scripture has always been close to my heart – I guess God knew why:
“But he always went back to Ramah, where his home was, and there he also judged Israel. And he built an altar there to the LORD” (1 Samuel 7:17)
BEAUTIFUL to read. I am mama to a dozen – 2 in heaven and 10 on this side of heaven. We’ve added 3 additional children thru marriage in the past 15 months and look forward to our first grandbaby in the fall! BLESSINGS!
You made me smile and brought back childhood memories from my own youth with the first bit you wrote 🙂 My mom used to sing the 10 in the bed and the little one said roll over..it still makes me want to giggle today. Also- in high school I sang Tis a Gift to be Simple in the Choir. Thanks for bringing back fond memories and smiles. Stopping by from FMF
i just loved this! both the poem and the story behind it. thank you for sharing.
Ah, the home run amuck with kids. I love it. I have a senior, too, and she’s already got two years of college under her belt, one foot in…one foot out. And I remember when my kids decided they didn’t want me to sing at bedtime any longer. And though I don’t miss the babies and the work of it, I miss certain things but I do love the progressive flow of love in a family, watching the relationships between my kids develop. I just loved the poem:)
your poem made me smile as God added to your family and the ins and outs of different stages you have been blessed to see in your children…what a gift you are giving your children with your love and prayers…blessings to you, Mary Leigh 🙂
I loved this… I felt like I was wrapped in one of you “blue cotton blankets” and I imagined what your voice might sound like had you read that to me… Thank you friend for sharing this.
LOVE THIS! 🙂
Thank you
What a clever idea to describe your home filled with love with a children’s poem! They are the heart of home in any case!
Much love
Mia
🙂
and thank you for the comment on mine. Yours is beautiful.
Wow, this is lovely… i loved the poem too, but I really loved your further words… i have one pulling as hard as she can on the cage bars. there not moving yet, but she is trying.
LOL! My oldest daughter is in her 30s and she knows if she makes me mad I will start to belt out “The Wonderful Things About Tiggers”! Such a lovely thoughtful post. Thank you for sharing.
This is so good.
What a neat 5 minute post you did through a “poem”…5 minute might seem short but what wonderful depiction of how your family grew and how loving and nurturing your “home” is…Like what the saying says, “There is no place like home…” But it depends…Only if it’s filled with love, acceptance, understanding and encouragement. Like yours, sister…
And being found by Him, I’m grateful we have a true “Home” that lasts eternal…God bless.
One day you turn around and find your children are your very best friends. I love how you shared the good and not-so-good. That is true parenting.
oh that painting draws me right into an old homestead filled with love … what a beautiful image you’ve offered us!
Very beautifully put.
Laura Hedgecock
http://www.TreasureChestOfMemories.com
A large older house bursting with a large family; I grew up in a house like that. Enjoyed the memories that your story beautifully portrayed.
I enjoyed reading the poem and the story. There is no place like home – home , sweet home.
Your writing is so creative. I so enjoy your blog.
Home is like a comforting blue cotton blanket–that might have felt confining around the arms of those who grow bigger and taller. But once they leave the nest, I can see that the blue cotton blanket beckons to them once again with all the warmth and gentleness it once had. Your grown children know it is always going to be their sweet home away from home.
You’re a good mom, a persevering mom with a gift for prose! You’ve spun some beautiful images here with the artful keystroke, my friend. Thanks so much for linking this up with Wedded Wed!