Dad is here for a few days.  He doesn't like to swim, in fact he nearly drown this summer leaning over to get his cell phone that had fallen into the pond.  Head first into the water he went.  No one saw him and thankfully his head didn't hit one of the many large rocks that border the shore there, or this could be a very sad summer indeed.  He managed to get himself back up, and it was then that someone looked out one of camp's windows and saw him sitting on the dock soaking wet, pretty shaken up.  He hasn't been a great lover of water for years now, so this wasn't one of his best moments I'm sure.

I did manage to get him to remove socks and shoes, roll his jeans up and sit down on the edge of the pool deck and stick his feet into the water.  While I floated on my air mattress we talked about old days, old friends and old shoes.  Mostly he talked, and if I did, his part of the conversation would be many "what?"s with me repeating what I'd said.  Still .. I've tucked that memory safely into a compartment in my brain (and heart) that I can pull out when I especially need to and be glad we had that day.

When he's here he goes through his old photos and papers that he keeps here .. again.  He comes downstairs and hands me things, or asks me if I "remember this" and passes me a photo of years ago.  This morning he brought the album of he and Mum's 50th anniversary the year before she left us, 2002, and shows me a picture "was I really that bald?"  Yup, you were Dad, and Mum had you comb those hairs over your head for years.  I love that he's stopped doing that and has soft white fuzz on top of his head now.  I'm afraid if Mama was still with us, he'd still be "combing over".  Sorry Mum, the only GOOD thing about you not being here.

I miss her.  Sometimes so longingly it hurts, but mostly with a dull ache in my heart that I can ignore because of all the joy I have in my life.  It's when I want to ask her something, or share something or think about how much she would love her great grandchildren.  Then it isn't so easy to ignore.  She would so totally enter into my joy.  Daddy tends to forget what I just told him 10 minutes ago .. or less.

Two things Dad brought down and left on my desk.  A poem that dear Murhl Howland gave him years and years ago.  Written on the back it says "some verses to put in your bible to read at times"   Murhl is blind now and near the end of his long full life.  Loved by more people than we know.  He was in his prime when he gave Dad that poem, and Dad was most likely in the early years of being a husband and father.

The other item is a poem I wrote in October of 1992.  I think back .. I was 31.  Still so young with no idea what lay ahead of me in the next 22 years.  Briana was 10 and 1/2, Ashley just 8 and George only 4.  Babies.  That was yesterday wasn't it?   I write poems when something touches my heart and soul.  So I wonder what it was that made this poem come to me.  Perhaps I'd reached an age with my three children that I realized just how important parenting is and how much my parents did for me.  Perhaps I got a glimpse that the day would come when I could give back a little bit of what I'd gotten. I hope Daddy can tell I do remember and love him so much for all he did as I was growing up.

So here they are.  I will share them both with you.


"When I was Young"
To Mama and Daddy
10/28/92

You were there, a solid pair to comfort and protect,
I took from you so easily and you gave as I'd expect.
A mother first, my friend indeed; a chore became a game.
A father, true, you made me proud; you never sought for fame.

You led me through those tender years and taught me all that's good.
I took for granted love like yours, but now it's understood.
The little things that meant so much, you did them all with ease ..
I never knew the sacrifice, the time spent on your knees.

The tears you shed, the fears you felt, you hid them from young eyes.
I only knew the warmth of love, support in all my "tries".

My Dad, you'd do most anything to make our play more fun.
And Mom, you filled the rainy days with rainbows one by one.
The kitchen warm with baking the ice all cleared of snow.
Picnics and adventures on a road we didn't know.

"Going through the porthole" taking off my Daddy's boots,
stories told by firelight, all these make up my roots.
Volleyball on summer eves, those days I can't forget.
Parents who will enter in, the lucky few will get.

 Now I'm a mother learning still of what it takes to be
unselfish, kind and honest; these things you taught to me.

You were there, a solid pair who held the standard high.
The path you chose, each step was clear you didn't "just get by".
You were there a solid pair, the need was always mine.
Now I want to give to YOU my heart, my home, my time.

I love you,
Kelly


Poem shared by Murhl Howland and kept in Dad's bible for years now.
("some verses to put in your bible and read at times")

"I Understand"

Hast thou been hungry, child of mine?  I too have needed bread.
For forty days I tasted naught till by the angels fed.
Hast thou been thirsty?  On the cross I suffered thirst for thee.
I've promised to supply the need.  My child, come unto Me.

Perhaps thy way is weary oft, thy feet grow tired and lame.
I wearied when I reached the well.  I suffered just the same.
And when I bore the heavy cross, I fainted 'neath the load
and so I've promised rest for all who walk the weary road.

Does Satan sometimes buffet thee, and tempt thy soul to sin?
Doth faith and hope and love grow weak?  Are doubts and fears within?
Remember I was tempted there by this same foe of thine,
but he could not resist the word nor conquer power divine.

When thou art sad, and tears fall fast, My heart goes out to thee.
For I wept over Jerusalem, that place so dear to Me.
And when I came to Lazarus' tomb, I wept; my heart was sore.
I'll comfort thee when thou dost weep, when sorrows are all o'er.

Do hearts prove false when thine is true?  I know the bitter dart;
I was betrayed by one I loved.  I died of a broken heart.
I loved My own; they loved Me not.  My heart was lonely too.
I'll never leave thee, child of Mine.  My loving heart is true.

Art thou discouraged in thy work?  Doth ministry seem vain?
I ministered midst unbelief with them, midst greed and gain.
They would not hearken to my voice but scoffed with one accord.
Your labor is not in vain if done unto the Lord.

Have courage, then, My faithful friend.  I suffered all the way.
Thy sensitive and loving heart I understand today.
Whate'er thy grief, whate'er thy care, just bring it unto Me.
Yes, in thy day of trouble, call.  I'll remember thee.