Friday, May 4, 2012

Through My Kitchen Window

I’m a Perfect Mother

            I’m a perfect mother! Well…not really. In fact, there are times I feel like a terrible mom. But every now and then, once in a while - like a streak of warm sunshine streaming down on me, it feels like I did something right. My grandmother, who was also my namesake, recorded such a moment in her journal many years ago.

            “Maa” kept a small hand written collection of original poems in a journal she titled “Gathered Fragments”. The name was derived from a Bible verse. The sixth chapter of the gospel of John tells of Jesus feeding 5,000 people with five loaves of bread and two fishes.  After the people had eaten, Jesus instructed His disciples, “Gather up the fragments, that nothing be lost.”  (John 6:12, NAS)

            There are many beautiful original poems in “Gathered Fragments”. I am especially fond of one particular poem that “Maa” wrote. It is a very short poem. She was inspired to write this little jingle by a comment my father made when he was nine years old. In her handwritten entry, my grandmother wrote:

            “Keith, my biddy #3 came to me today explaining his views on women. Gesturing as he spoke, he said, ‘Maa, I don’t like women who are short and fat…and I don’t like them t-a-l-l and thin either!  I like them just like you!!’  This was flattering to say the least as I am a bit on the short, fat side.”

            My grandmother was only four feet and eleven inches tall.  She was in fact, a bit rounded in her figure.  Her child’s unabashed adoration prompted her to write this poem:

                                       I posses a perfect figure
                                                And I never do grow old.
                                      Ah! My face is quite the fairest
                                               And I’m worth my weight in gold.

                                      Queens may sit in royal splendor
                                                With their nations at their feet.
                                        Movie stars may have their glamour
                                                And their conquest be complete.

                                        But adoring eyes behold me
                                                Brightly gazing into mine,
                                         I’m appraised and judged quite perfect
                                                By my little boy of nine.

                                     Written by: Harriet K. Edwards in 1937

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