Sometimes my grown children get homesick. They miss the days of the nursery - where Mother is here for them all the time. When Mother bakes cookies, makes supper and plays games. It is the soothing seclusion of a loving home - where the world is shut out for a time.
I can often see pain, in the eyes of my teenagers. But I cannot make it go away. I cannot stop them from hurting, or from suffering, in this life. But I can be here, with a loving smile and open arms.
I can listen to their stories. . . without judgement. . . I can hear their trials and tribulations and say nothing. This is the resting place. Home is the place to recover from the world. But I cannot make the world go away.
So I play cards with them. . We gather around the table and we laugh and have a good time. We all have hurt in our eyes, but we push it aside.
And we play pool, in our beat up, unfinished porch that we call the game room. We play on teams and I hear stories and jokes and I hear things I never thought could be so funny! I enjoy my teenagers and grown children. But I do not try to run their lives. I do not try to control them.
I am the keeper of the nursery.
Come here, my precious babies, when the world has become too painful. . . Come home to the nursery, where I will always be - with the cookies and the cards and the loving smile.
(Love Mom.)
blessings
Mrs. White
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