What a gift each morning to encounter some part of nature... It is a pure gift of beauty, of life. The sunrise can be a reminder of the day's gift because it comes unbidden. We don't produce it. The light is given. The world is reborn each morning, and we are given a whole new time of opportunity. Even if the difficulties are the same we had yesterday, we can tackle them in a new way. Primordial freshness is renewed each morning.
What to do with children? It came so naturally. I remembered Aunt Marion’s example. Give them a place to run — to breathe fresh air first — and lead them to a place to swim. Feed them fruit. Show them how it is peeled and sweetened. Love all children as if they were your own. Then, just before they go to sleep, Give them music by the silvery moon.
Gramma died 25 years after she stopped mothering me. But she left me something special, and I hear it whenever the need occurs. A tune wafts in unexpectedly when I am kneading bread or hanging laundry on the line. The opening phrase of an old hymn bursts from my mouth: "Are ye able," I suddenly sing out. "To believe that Spirit triumphs," I can hear Gramma picking up the next line. The verses poses a great question about faith, but I am thinking about what Gramma gave me. "Lillian," I answer, "thank you for my voice."
