A woman in a rocker, hair snowy white,
Gazing out her window, eyes alight.
Memories flood her mind, of her sweet baby cradled on her arm,
Holding the little one close to her heart, safe and warm.
She remembers gazing at the child with her husband, wonder in their eyes,
The joy of a little one was almost more than they could realize.
With a smile she recalls the baby’s happy giggle,
When even something small and silly would make the little one wiggle.
Sighing she remembers the child’s growing years,
The trials and joys of teaching, when her eyes would fill with tears.
Sometimes the tears were sad, when the girl did something wrong,
But often they were happy tears, for the child was her joy, her song.
So quickly the girl, a woman became,
Everything began to change; nothing was quite the same.
She had taught her to love Jesus, to be a woman true,
To live for God and serve others, this was important, too.
As girl became woman, the two became close friends.
They laughed, they cried, they shared the things God chose to send.
She still prayed and guided the young heart, lovingly so,
Encouraging her always, her mother’s love to know.
One day she watched her girl learn what it is to fall in love.
Both mother and father knew it was a match made above.
She watched with happy tears as her daughter walked away,
Mother and father returned home alone at the end of the wedding day.
She saw her daughter become a godly homemaker and wife,
Then rejoiced with her as her girl brought forth new life.
Delighted she saw the young mother train her children well,
Loving them and guiding them, in God’s Word to dwell.
Today the woman is sitting by herself, remembering days long past.
She had given completely of herself; would her investment last?
A knock on the door interrupts her from her meditation,
The door opens and a younger woman enters with a smile of elation.
Five little ones follow behind, faces bright with cheer,
Grandmother bends to lovingly draw each child near.
Daughter sits at mother’s feet, thanking her for her sacrifices beyond measure,
Mother smiles, for by God’s grace, she has stored up her heavenly treasure. |
