There is a poem my mother loved. She loved it so much she taught me to memorize it. And I would go places as a child and my father would bribe me with a dollar (hey, watch it!! A dollar was a lot of money back then!) He would bribe me to recite it. I was frightfully shy in those days...but I was thrify and loved to save, so $$ spoke to me and I would muster up the courage and recite. It was a powerful poem about how sometimes women let themselves fall through the cracks, be invisible, unimportant, unnoticed, invaluable.
From my post yesterday I would hope you realize that I BELIEVE...NO I KNOW!!! that the work I am doing, the masterpieces I am working on, that work is some of the greatest work on the planet. I hope YOU (if you know me), know that I believe there is NO greater job than motherhood. I hope you know that I believe it is selfless, noble and infinitely important.
However...IF YOU KNOW ME...I am sure that you know my philosophies in life include the notion that empty buckets with holes in the bottom CARRY NO WATER. A woman must take care of herself... Mind, Body, and Spirit. A woman needs time to be a woman...Not a wife, mother, daughter, aunt...but just a woman. Accomplish this as you wish. My husband, the hero and dragon slayer that he is makes sure this happens for me...even when I get busy and forget my own needs...he chimes in to remind me and I am ever so grateful for that and for him. I need time with other women, friends, to laugh, to cry, to be with. My friends KNOW that I have one basic rule. I am not a husband basher...and I don't want to hang out with husband bashers. Have a hard day with your hubby, sure thing...I will give you a hug and tell you I love you...Then I will tell you how great your hubby is and that as hard as some days are...MAN ARE YOU LUCKY TO BE MARRIED TO HIM. And if I have a hard day...I expect the same from my friends...and I get it...WHY? Because we choose our friends and those are the kind of friends I have choosen. If you don't take this crucial kind of time for yourself, time to regroup, recharge the battery...That is when Millie's Mother's Red Dress can be...well...almost haunting. So don't let it. Time you take to strengthen yourself, really builds the nation, the masterpieces all around you.
#319 Reason I see the hand of Heavenly Father in my life: He made women in all their delicateness, complications, unsurity, doubts...and then he gave them mothers, daughters, sisters, friends to build and strengthen each other when they are down.
Make it a great day! Only YOU can!
BY: Carol Lynn Pearson
It hung there in the closet
While she was dying, Mother's red dress,
Like a gash in the row
Of dark, old clothes
She had worn away her life in.
They had called me home,
And I knew when I saw her
She wasn't going to last.
When I saw the dress, I said,
"Why, Mother-how beautiful!
I've never seen it on you."
"I've never worn it," she slowly said.
"Sit down, Millie-I'd like to undo
A lesson or two before I go, if I can."
I sat by her bed,
And she sighed a bigger breath
Than I thought she could hold.
"Now that I'll soon be gone,
I can see some things.
Oh, I taught you good-but I taught you wrong."
"What do you mean, Mother?"
"Well,-I always thought
That a good woman never takes her turn,
That she's just for doing for somebody else.
Do here, do there, always keep
Everybody else's wants tended and make sure
Yours are at the bottom of the heap.
Maybe someday you'll get to them,
But of course you never do.
My life was like that-doing for your dad,
Doing for the boys, for your sisters, for you."
"You did-everything a mother could."
"Oh, Millie, Millie, it was no good-
For you-for him. Don't you see?
I did you the worst of wrongs.
I asked nothing-for me!
"Your father in the other room,
All stirred up and staring at the walls-
When the doctor told him, he took
It bad-came to my bed and all but shook
The life right out of me. 'You can't die,
Do you hear? What'll become of me?
What'll become of me?'
It'll be hard, all right, when I go.
He can't even find the frying pan, you know.
"And you children.
I was a free ride for everybody, everywhere.
I was the first one up and the last one down
Seven days out of the week.
I always took the toast that got burned,
And the very smallest piece of pie.
I look at how some of your brothers treat their
wives now,
And it makes me sick, 'cause it was me
That taught it to them. And they learned.
They learned that a woman doesn't
Even exist except to give.
Why, every single penny that I could save
Went for your clothes, or your books,
Even when it wasn't necessary.
Can't even remember once when I took
Myself downtown to buy something beautiful-
For me.
"Except last year when I got that red dress.
I found I had twenty dollars
That wasn't especially spoke for.
I was on my way to pay it extra on the washer.
But somehow-I came home with this big box.
Your father really gave it to me then.
'Where you going to wear a thing like that to-
Some opera or something?'
And he was right, I guess.
I've never, except in the store,
Put on that dress.
"Oh, Millie-I always thought if you take
Nothing for yourself in this world,
You'd have it all in the next somehow.
I don't believe that anymore.
I think the Lord wants us to have something-
Here-and now.
"And I'm telling you, Millie, if some miracle
Could get me off this bed, you could look
For a different mother, 'cause I would be one.
Oh, I passed up my turn so long
I would hardly now how to take it.
But I'd learn, Millie.
I would learn!"
It hung there in the closet
While she was dying, Mother's red dress,
Like a gash in the row
Of dark, old clothes
She had worn away her life in.
Her last words to me were these:
"Do me the honor, Millie,
Of not following in my footsteps.
Promise me that."
I promised.
She caught her breath
Then mother took her turn
In death.
