The Faithful Scribbler

A Catholic Mother In A Secular World

Happy Easter From The Scribblers!

on April 24, 2011

This Easter eve I’m sitting at home. The Auditor is at the Vigil Mass, where he’s likely to be until at least 1130. Little Scribbler FINALLY fell asleep about 945 pm– I started trying to put her down at 7:25. High points of the day included the throwing of a Mickey Mouse shaped pancake in a restaurant, and a carousel ride the ended in The Auditor getting bitten and Little Scribbler getting carried to the car kicking and screaming. It was rather a wild one, but it is Now. Finally. Over. She SLEEPS!

And now that she’s asleep, I can get on with the work that needs doing. Her little Easter treats are in a basket on the kitchen counter. Her clothes are pressed and hanging for church in the morning. Her breakfast is ready and waiting in the fridge. Her brand new pink plastic unicorn is tucked into bed with her. She’s sleeping with her nose as scrunched up and her little fists up by her ears. I love it when she sleeps like that. I love her best when she’s asleep, and better still when she’s awake, in spite of sundry tantrums and bitings! She is truly a gift from the God who loves us so!

In honor of tomorrow’s joyful Resurrection, of the love of Jesus for the world, and of the love of me for the Little Scribbler, I leave you with a poem I found online…

A Hundred Tears
By Sally Meyer, March, 1999
Copywrite 1999, Sally Meyer

A hundred times I told him
a hundred times and more,
“Don’t hit the dog, don’t run away
don’t throw that on the floor!”

All morning he was tireless
he never stopped to think
he broke my lamp, he spilled his milk
dumped the kitten in the sink.

He ran around the house all day
without a stitch of clothes
he flapped his hands and sang and cried
and fell and bumped his nose.

At dinner came the moment
when I’d simply had enough
he refused to eat his dinner
and that’s when I got tough.

I sent him off to bed at once
despite his tearful pleas . . .
I let him cry himself to sleep
it brought me to my knees.

When silence fell upon his room
I slowly crept inside,
and gazing on my little son
I lost my foolish pride.

A hundred tears I wept right then
a hundred tears and more
for this little child who spilled his milk
on my nice bright shiny floor.

Who am I to scold my son
for things he cannot know?
he looks to me for patience
to help him learn and grow.

A hundred prayers I said that night
a hundred prayers and more
Help me Father, teach my child
this child that I adore.

And as I left his room that night
I kissed his tears away
and promised that tomorrow
would be a better day.


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