A sweet lady at my church, who has something like 21 grandchildren (no exaggeration), gave me a copy of this old poem she had hanging on her fridge. I now have it hanging on mine.
Our Child by Dorothy V. Garka
Each little child God sends our way
Is like a piece of soft, new clay;
'Tis ours to mold and shape and trim,
To make it pleasing unto Him.
Each little thing we do or say
Makes an impression, day by day,
On every growing mind and heart,
Forming a pattern from the start.
Oh! What a solemn trust is ours,
How we must guard these precious hours!
Too soon this clay will be as stone-
Our chance is gone- our child is grown.
If we but take the time to pray,
And seek God's guidance every day,
He'll give us strength, and wisdom, too,
To help our child grow strong and true.
I've had this on my fridge for a few months now, but I reread it and it reached out and grabbed me anew this morning. That third stanza almost took my breath away... realizing that all too quickly, Caleb will be grown. And yet, how will he be? Will we have trained him in the way he should go? Will he choose to honor God with his life? This poem is an almost haunting reminder that the things we do and say are more important than the actual lessons we take the time to teach. I know I have both of my parents in me- some of the good and the bad qualities combined. I look at my boy, and I know that he is watching me, even now. "More is caught than taught" as the phrase goes. I could teach him all I want, but the real lessons will be learned as he watches me. Parenthood is a daunting task for sure, and I cannot, cannot do it without the Lord.
It is a scary thing that one day I might see the things I so dislike about myself in my own child! Lord willing, he will be a far better person than I. I pray so!
