Two posts in one day? Must be my blog revamp. Or my inability to do anything productive today.
There are several times in life where I turn to youtubes (or clips on hulu/other tv sites) when I feel particularly overwhelmed or grumpy. For instance. The night before the praxis? I watched these for the 1,975th time.
To get through my last-ever finals week last semester? Dearest Ellen saved the day:
Lately? To get through my longer weeks and last class ever? This sweet honey boo-boo (good find, priscilla!):
Thought I'd share for your future reference when life gets tough.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Prayer for Our Daughters - Mark Jarman
Simon's dad (I started writing 'my father-in-law' but that sounded WAY too stifled) shared this beautiful poem with the family not too long ago. For the first time, probably ever, it made me excited to have a little girl. I will have this painted or printed on a canvas and hung in my little daughter's room one day. I will.
May they never be lonely at parties
Or wait for mail from people they haven't written
Or still in middle age ask God for favors
Or forbid their children things they were never forbidden.
May hatred be like a habit they never developed
And can't see the point of, like gambling or heavy drinking.
If they forget themselves, may it be in music
Or the kind of prayer that makes a garden of thinking.
May they enter the coming century
Like swans under a bridge into enchantment
And take with them enough of this century
To assure their grandchildren it really happened.
May they find a place to love, without nostalgia
For some place else that they can never go back to.
And may they find themselves, as we have found them,
Complete at each stage of their lives, each part they add to.
May they be themselves, long after we've stopped watching.
May they return from every kind of suffering
(Except the last, which doesn't bear repeating)
And be themselves again, both blessed and blessing.
May they never be lonely at parties
Or wait for mail from people they haven't written
Or still in middle age ask God for favors
Or forbid their children things they were never forbidden.
May hatred be like a habit they never developed
And can't see the point of, like gambling or heavy drinking.
If they forget themselves, may it be in music
Or the kind of prayer that makes a garden of thinking.
May they enter the coming century
Like swans under a bridge into enchantment
And take with them enough of this century
To assure their grandchildren it really happened.
May they find a place to love, without nostalgia
For some place else that they can never go back to.
And may they find themselves, as we have found them,
Complete at each stage of their lives, each part they add to.
May they be themselves, long after we've stopped watching.
May they return from every kind of suffering
(Except the last, which doesn't bear repeating)
And be themselves again, both blessed and blessing.
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