Tonight after Melanie and Casi left and Emery went to bed, the house was silent. Time seemed to stand still, or perhaps take steps backwards as I lit the lamp in the dinning room, took out a book to read and mused a bit about trying to read with some glasses I have that are over 100 years old. I have reached the age where reading glasses are a must and these old spectacles finally fit my eyesight.
I started to read but found myself having a silent conversation with God instead. Telling Him how grateful I am for my life and all the love that surrounds me. Simple life that it is, it suits me and brings me great peace of heart.
There are no dramas unfolding day to day in my life, just ordinary happenings. Simple things. I like it that way. Busy days filled with cooking, cleaning and caring for my loved ones. Evenings filled with phone calls from loved ones, hand holding and laughter with my beloved, and yes he really is my beloved, I am not just using that term lightly. He is truly my gentle-man.
Conversations about the days happenings or about our plans. Good things. Dear things. Cherished moments. Written on our hearts. Prayer together at our bedside. Sleep so sound and restful. Lamplight makes it all seem so right.
Here are a couple poems I love dearly.
I love old lamps.... their yellow glow across the kitchen clean...
It seemed to stand for us, somehow, the best that home could mean.
I love old lamps that shed their light like golden aureoles Across the prairie night to homesick neighbor souls.
No road was ever half so long If I could look and see above the lonely rutted trail The lamp set out for me.
And though the aching years divide Old things serene and sweet, Above the dark their beauty shines,
A Lamp unto my feet
I like a kitchen big enough
To hold a rocking chair,
With windows looking to the sun,
And flowers blooming there.
I like big cupboards by the wall,
That hold a lot of things,
The cups hung up on little hooks,
A yellow bird that sings.
I like to do my mending there,
Where I can watch the road,
And see the teams come plodding home,
And smell their fragrant load,
Of heavy sheaves at stacking time,
Or hear the wagons creak,
And groan beneath their golden weight,
If it is threshing week.
I like to have the supper on,
And let it simmer slow,
With rich brown gravy bubbling up,
Around the meat, you know.
With apple pie set out to cool
And flaky new baked bread,
With golden syrup in a bowl
And jelly warm and red.
I like to have the lamps ashine,
With yellow glowing light,
And have the kitchen warm and clean
When they come in at night.
To make a home so snug and dear,
That when they work or play,
They hold a picture in their hearts
Of home, at close of day.
Beside Still Waters
- Edna Jaques