I wrote this poem in March 1987 about what is was like to go to my grandmother's (Maw) house on Saturday night and stay over. Maw was a very special lady.
I can't remember much of my childhood at all.
But there is one thing I clearly recall.
And that was Sunday mornings and my Maw.
During the week there was school and play,
and I couldn't wait till Saturday.
Cause sometimes my mom would let me stay the night.
And I'll never forget what Sunday morning was like.
We'd get up early, cause it was a rule,
everyone was going to Sunday School.
Hurry up now and get your clothes on, can I borrow you blouse? Someone get the phone.
Hurry come and get you a plate, brush your teeth, we're going to be late.
When I look back and remember all the noise and confusion, I remember something else too, and I've come to a conclusion.
Maw treated me like one of her own,
she took the time to make me feel at home.
Now I'm older and I'm a grandma too,
and one thing I surely want to do, is treat my grandchildren like she treated me,
show them I love them and how much I care, and if they ever need me I'll be there.
So this is to you, Maw, and don't forget,
I loved you then and I love you yet.
June 20, 1913
March 24, 1993
I wrote this poem after the death of my nephew on Sept. 30, 1988. I saw how strong his family was during the funeral and after and it really showed me how God can get us through tragedy if we lean on Him.
Rod son, where are you? With a broken heart, a heart filled with pain.
He looked toward Heaven and cried his son's name.
I knew he was hurting and I was so sad,
he had just lost the only son he had.
I couldn't understand how he could be so strong,
I watched him through the funeral and all the week long.
But he has a strength that only God gives,
and he knows that even now, Rod lives.
We love you, Rod, and we'll never forget you,
And someday, we'll all be there, in Heaven too.
Dec. 15, 1971- Sept. 21, 1988
