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Friday, February 14, 2014

Another Snowfall ~ Another Lullaby


     Lots of people are grumbling about the so-much, had-enough-of-it snow. Hopefully, there's comfort in remembering that the snow won't last forever, that somewhere, deep beneath winter's blanket of  "alabaster wool" (thank you Emily Dickinson for that lovely metaphor), springtime is getting the rest she needs. Soon she'll awaken, refreshed and exhilarated to cheer us with her fragrance and color.
     John Steinbeck asked What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness? Long before I saw this quote, I wrote this lullaby:

This time when winter comes
We will not be afraid,
This time when winter comes, 
We know we will be brave.

For we know, in the snow,
Is the soul of summer rain,
Bitter winds may blow,
But spring will come again.



So close your eyes my child, 
It’s been a long, long day,
Rest a little while,
We’ve come a long, long way.

This time when winter comes,
We know we will be brave.
This time when winter comes
We will not be afraid.

~





Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Outside the snow is falling...

Snow's been falling steadily since before daybreak so it's a quiet, all-day-fire, crock-pot-chili and homemade-cornbread kind of day.  I'm especially happy because everyone is safe at home.

Of course, I know that not everyone considers days like this one a treasure. For every happy-to-be-home baker, for every skier and snowboarder celebrating on the slopes, there's a single parent worrying about child care, a minimum wage earner shoveling in haste and coaxing a tired, worn-out, temperamental car to please start. There are the homeless and the hungry. On days like this, I think of them and say a prayer that they find shelter from the cold. 

A long time ago, I wrote this lullaby for a little girl who is now a beautiful young woman. As with all my lullabies, I remember where I was when the melody and words came to me. I remember the snow falling soft and deep outside the nursery window. In the moonlight each flake seemed weighted with beauty and wonder. I was grateful to be home,  grateful for the curly-top nestled in my arms.


Outside the snow is falling,
so white, so deep.
Inside a mother's rocking
her child to sleep...
Let every snowflake 
be a prayer
that children,
children everywhere,
might know 
how sweet it is to sleep
safe in their mother's arms. 


Outside the snow is falling,
So soft, so deep.
Inside a mother’s rocking
her child to sleep.
And every snowflake’s 
like a prayer
that mothers,
mothers everywhere,
might know 
how sweet it is to keep
their child sheltered from the storm. 



Whoever you are, wherever you are, I wish you shelter and peace!