Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: BUSY (02/02/17)
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TITLE: Reflecting back on summers with Granny | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Goergen
02/09/17 -
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
while the others still slept,
she’d slip into the kitchen quiet
as a mouse
to begin breakfast,
fresh eggs just retrieved from the hen’s coop,
biscuits from scratch,
sometimes sausage and gravy—
don’t think she ever had boxed cereal in the house.
Soon; as she worked; her humming of hymns,
and counting of blessings would fill the house,
and blend with the aroma of food cooking,
and coffee percolating
to serve as
the best alarm clock ever,
that didn’t jar you awake but teased you
to arise and come and enjoy
the meal she had waiting.
Then, with breakfast served,
preparations for dinner started, and the kitchen cleaned,
she was off to make beds, where she often was found
kneeling in prayer,
before dressing to go feed chickens, dogs, and cats,
before heading to the fields to work the garden,
or doing the weekly wash, and hanging clothes on the line
in time to get back to cook the noon-day meal before grandpa;
returning from morning chores; would get there.
That noon meal was the big meal of the day
and she’d make enough for leftovers for supper.
As her laborious prep and loud prayers
blended into a concert,
filling rooms and drifting out open windows,
announcing possible fried chicken or homemade beans
and corn bread topped with fresh butter she’d churned,
while praising her savior as naturally as wiping her hands
on her apron skirt.
Little time she had for beauty care—but lovely
she was to behold, as from chore to chore she’d go,
back in the fields after noon day meal
until supper,
that she’d spread on a newly ironed tablecloth
and before a single bite, she’d recite a bible verse
and then weep as grandpa prayed.
With supper’s tasks complete, she’d spent the fading day
sewing, quilting or mending some fixer upper.
Her tasks seemed endless, her rest little
and she knew each tomorrow
would be a day of the same
yet, she didn’t complain,
and each night as she wearily headed for bed
before surrendering her body
to those fresh-air scented sheets—without fail,
she’d fall to her knees and bow her head
and pour out to Jesus her joy and her pain.
And I look at my life—nothing like granny’s at all.
I have every time saving device—
food at my fingertips and yet claim not enough
time in my day.
I don’t work my fingers to the bone from predawn to night,
yet, I find an hour of prayer hard to fit in—it makes me ashamed
when I reflect on granny’s life versus mine—I fall short.
She was an example, a warrior—no matter how hard or busy her day,
granny always, always found time to pray!
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Your lovely poem reminded me so much of my own grandmother who helped to raise seven children.