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Weeds & Wildflowers
May 21, 2008
My mom gave me a copy of this poem years ago when our 9 year old was still a baby. I love this poem and it has given me perspective when I've badly needed it and also been a reminder that I'm doing a good job.
I had hoped to post it on Mother's Day but I didn't have permission yet from the author. She is a friend from my growing up days, only then she was the mother of young children and I was a kid growing up, not terribly interested in mothering matters. Thanks Nancy for sharing your struggles to help encourage us.
Weeds and Wildflowers
Sometimes I get to thinking—I don’t know where time goes at all And it sure seemed to pass slowly back when all my kids were small Older mothers warned me that they’d grow up soon enough But I was stretched so very thin; I found those years so tough Dress the kids and feed the kids and try to wash the clothes Sooth a tiff, wipe up a mess, and blow a dirty nose Every day was overflowing with a thousand little chores Then a child would come bursting in from the summery outdoors And there’d be weeds and wildflowers in a grubby, little hand From a pretty little lady or a charming little man The eyes would be so full of love, as only child’s eyes could And I’d hug them close and thank them, as any mother would But sometimes in my busy-ness, on the counter they still lay Those weeds and wildflowers soon wilted all away All because there wasn’t time to fill a vase with water I bore the sad, reproachful eyes of a precious son or daughter Today as I went walking, there, growing all about I saw weeds and wildflowers, and they made my heart cry out They fill me with nostalgia now, for they symbolize the pleasures That I was too tired and busy to take the time to treasure O God! Help me to cherish each child at each stage For they’re rushing headlong past me toward an independent age It used to seem those childhood years would just drift on and on But like weeds and wildflowers, they don’t last very long The time will soon be here when one by one they’ll move away The present will become the past—and memories of those days Will be carefully tucked away like a favourite book upon the shelf And if I want weeds and wildflowers, I’ll have to pick them for myselfNancy Fowler Christenson ©2000
If forwarding or printing this poem, please include copyright & website info. To view other works by the author, visit www.cowgirlstory.com
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Amanda on May 21, 2008, 2:28 p.m.
I love...love this poem. It is so true! Thank you for finding it and sharing.