Sunday, May 16, 2010

Feathers From My Nest

Several years ago, at a local bookstore, I found myself curled up in a corner with tears streaming down my face. I stumbled upon the book, Feather's From My Nest, by Beth Moore. At the time, Masie Kate (pictured) was three and my only child.

This book was Beth's (like I know her:) way of documenting the childhood of her daughters, feathers each of them left behind as they flew from one season to the next. This was one of the first books God used to paint a picture of how quickly time would pass and how fleeting childhood would be for this precious girl.

Now, Masie is 7 and the big sister of Katelyn and Gunner. I just wonder what feathers I will collect from their childhood when childhood has come and gone. I choose to post this picture of Masie in her "Magic Skates" because in this season they are the love of her life (plus I crack up everytime I look at it:). We call them "Magic Skates" due to the fact that when Masie slips her dirty country feet into them she becomes the ultimate servant. She unloads the dishwasher quicker, is eager to assit in cooking and setting the table. We have wood floors downstairs and she zips, zags and figure-eights in a noisy enthusiastic childish parade. However, noisy and sometimes annoying these skates are, how long will they be called her beloved? She no longer needs my hand to hold skating from one object to the next. She no longer falls every few feet. I am just curious how much longer before I pack these skates away because her childhood love has been replaced with adolescent interests. Until then, skate on Masie. One day my prayer is that she reflects fondly of the days when her mother allowed her Magic Skates to participate in the day to day.
Feathers from my nest
Which moments will I treasure the best?
Masie is almost eight
No longer needing my hand to roller skate
Help me Lord to be patient and kind
Enduring the ruckus, help me not to mind.
Show me how to collect and keep
The feathers of her childhood nice and neat.
Memories are made with each passing day
Help me to love more deeply and not be too busy to play.
Feathers from my nest
I choose to treasure this day amongst the rest.
Show me to train, to patiently pursue
This precious child,
Who holds onto me but one day will cling to You.