I know many moms might see that hand print and get upset at the mess or immediately want to scrub it off. Three days later the chalky print still remains and I cannot help but feel happy that it's there. It's a tangible reminder of the little boy who lives here and who has forever made an impression on my heart regardless of all that has happened and all that will continue to happen in the future.
While at our weekly horse therapy appointment his therapist was pointing out definite changes since we started working together back in June. After she told me that I realized she was absolutely right. Too many times I'm praying and hoping for the "big picture" to change that I miss the little things. It was a great reminder. Progress has been made and is continuing to be made each and every day that we're together. I know in my heart that someday all of the reading of books, RAD workshops, therapy sessions and time spent together as a family will matter. I feel strongly that a heart that has been hurt can be healed --- it just takes time.
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Mary Oliver
2 comments:
Oh, I love the poem. Great find- so appropriate. :)
So glad you find joy in the little things that remind us how amazing it is to be a mom... even if it is just one more thing we have to clean or pick up! Love you!
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