To all of my
sisters at church (and elsewhere) who feel that you aren’t talented enough, or
productive enough, or something enough, I wrote these lines of poetry
with you in mind:
With her
long and slender
graceful
smooth and pale
immaculate
manicured
hands
that have
gripped a pen
wielded a paintbrush
danced over piano keys
typed on a computer
keyboard
handled a Sunday School
book
cradled a choir binder,
designed a craft
arranged a bouquet…
With her
sturdy
calloused
stained
creased
weathered
work-worn
reddened
hands
that have
milked cows
podded peas and snapped
beans
shaped bread dough into
loaves
scrubbed a toilet
pulled thistles
repaired appliances
wrestled ornery creatures
varnished woodwork…
My sister
has been to me
the creative hands
of Jesus.
This Post’s Quotable:
One mom’s way of describing her adventure-loving, risk-taking son: “He keeps my prayers fresh.”
This Post’s
Childhood Memory:
When we lived
in Northwoods Beach, one of our fascinating neighbors was a German lady whom we
called Mrs. Sperling. I remember going to her house for tea. She peered at us
children through her coke-bottle glasses while she spoke to my mom in a strong,
heavily-German-accented voice. I got the impression that, had she been a school
teacher, she would’ve been of the very strictest sort. Once, she described a
special German dish to Mom, and she kept referring to letting the milk get “sick”
in the making of it. Later Mom explained to me that Mrs. Sperling meant allowing
the milk to get thick, instead of sick. I figured that if one added curdled
milk to a food, it would certainly be “sick”, as well as thick!