Kudos, Mama!

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I recently visited with a homeschooling mama who grew up with a sister and a single mother who was in the military. As the conversation progressed, I asked her what she and her sister did when her mother was deployed. She said they stayed with a babysitter.

I stand in awe of this homeschooling mama. She is obviously devoted to her children, as I’m sure her mother was, too, while she made hard choices and tried to do what was best in tough circumstances.

This homeschooling mama discussed choices she was making for her children. In fact, she was making a big change and going in a new direction with the way she was homeschooling. I thought she was brave and wise.

I almost always ask Ray to proof my posts before I send them, to make sure they make sense in someone else’s ears and to make sure I don’t spell believe B-E-L-E-I-V-E or something like that. I don’t remember Ray ever making a suggestion for a post, but he did do that on Tuesday. He shared a poem with me that he thought might be a blessing to you. I have heard parts of this poem before but I don’t remember ever reading all of it. I feel about this poem the way I feel about the book Honey for a Child’s Heart. I don’t know whether every book suggested is a good choice, but I certainly agree with the sentiment.

My Reading Mother

By American writer Strickland Gilliland (1869-1954)

I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea.
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth;
“Blackbirds” stowed in the hold beneath.

I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.

I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness lent with his final breath.

I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings-
Stories that stir with an upward touch.
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be —
I had a Mother who read to me.

“Oh, that each mother of boys [and girls] were such” mothers as you are!

Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
Psalm 131:2

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