Click on the picture to enlarge it so you'll be able to read the poem.
This is a poem I tore from a magazine when I was a young mom. Something in it touched me, so I saved it. Never did I think that I would be 56 and have a 14-year-old child. I am that woman in the poem.
Yes, it makes me sad that my youngest child won't ever know me as a young mom. All she knows is a graying, middle-aged spread mama. I tell her that I'm a much better mama now than I was in my 30's. What I've lost in physical beauty I've gained in wisdom and patience, although sometimes I have neither. I have a greater capacity for love now and a greater awareness of our human condition. I'm much less judgmental.
But how can a young teenager know these things and understand? She can't now nor should she know. I think she will someday when she's raised several children and become a grandmother herself. But I know I'll never see it in my lifetime. I take it on faith that God will continue His good work in her already begun. And with that I must be content.
