She came into this world

and they wrapped her in pink:

A present from God,

with a smile and a wink–

“So you think you’re unloved,

not important, unnoticed?

Take a look in her eyes–

Here you see what you’ve missed.”

 

She looked to me, open,

trusting and calm.

I held her with wonder;

to my soul she was balm.

 

“Hi,” I said, smiling,

“I’m so glad you’re here.

I am your mama. . .

You’re precious and dear.”

“I may be quite young,

inexperienced and poor–

but I promise to give

all I can, and then more. . .”

 

. . .to love you, protect you

to be sure you’re okay.

We’ll take life on together~

I’ll show you the way.”

 

Gentle and tender,

her manner so sweet

compassionate and curious–

being with her, a treat.

 

She grew up too quickly!

She grew up with grace.

We grew up together,

through each challenge we’d face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, one day, all too soon,

she announced it was time:

She’d be moving on into

her rhythm and rhyme.

 

Though I knew it was coming,

my heart cried as I called,

“God, now, You keep her,

and don’t let her fall.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before too many years,

she gave birth to a son.

She held him, and gazed

at the gift she had won.

 

And she wondered aloud,

“Could anyone, anywhere feel this much love?

It is powerful, mighty,

and sent from above.”

 

Deeply moved and touched,

at this feeling we share,

my heart broke a little~

that she wasn’t aware. . .

 

. . .that I’d loved her this much,

all her life, every day!

Had she not known it then?

Had I failed in this way?

 

Again on my knees,

asking God, for my blossom . .

to know that I love her,

to know she is awesome.

 

As I looked in His eyes,

saw His gleam shining back,

I recalled what He told me–

that I’d found what I’d lacked.

Any sense that we’ve had

that we lack rhyme or reason,

that we’re not loved or special,

that we’re born out of season. . .

 

. . . is a sense we each share,

though He speaks to us all–

through our neighbors, our parents,

through children, a call.

 

Though He sent His own son;

proved His love beyond question,

we each need to find Him

in our own time and fashion.

 

Now my little pink package

is forty-two, in a wink–

and her son, and her daughter,

also grew in a blink!

And she grieves, as she must

let them go on their choosing,

and she helps them

and tries not to think she is losing.

 

And before too much longer

one of them will be gazing

in their own baby’s eyes,

with a love that’s amazing.

 

And I smile as I witness

what too many missed. . .

well aware now,

I’m loved, important, and noticed.

 

Well aware that the task now

is to pass the baton

to comfort, encourage

as the race journeys on–

 

Generations have lived,

generations will come.

May we each gather love;

may we each grow it some.

 

May God’s passion flare steadily,

our hearts to incline;

in forbearance, in faith,

and in mercy divine.

 

May my dear little baby,

with life now mid-swing,

feel the joy that the second

half of life’s sure to bring.

 

Happy Birthday, Denesia Christine!

Gracefully Determined, Christ-Light-Bearer

 

Loving you more each day,

Mom
©Joan T Warren