How Beautiful The Crosses

Is it so long ago, is time so slow
Or does it move with such rapid pace
That today I see your face
Not as the yesterdays, but now
In this self, same place, just as before.

Today I have a different dream
Of your years till seventeen;
Or is it a dream -- but a silent,
lonely yearning
Crying for the yesterdays, in this self same place
Just as before.

What is this new awakening within me?
What is this hunger that now tears at my soul?
Forgotten memories buried in my grief,
Did I the first year walk as in sleep?

For today I yearn for the troubled times,
When parents and child were of different minds.

How beautiful the crosses
When one looks back,
How loving the differences
Which lay me on this rack.

Ah troubled times,
Why with such yearning do I pine?

Clear now the understanding
That child is made for God,
That every little grievance
Is not a burdened rod;
But a loving gift of sharing
In which child and parent grow
A gift which He has given
So that His love we'll know.

                                            © Helen Catherine Cramer
                                 23rd August 1982

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