Happy Birthday Scott!

I found this forgotten memento today as I was searching for a cute picture of Scott to insta for his birthday. I thought that tiny newborn picture of him was long lost. It is the only picture we have of him brand-new. As we have often told, we were poor students when he was born and we couldn't afford to buy the hospital pictures that were offered. This was the thumbnail pic that was stapled to the order form. I managed to save it and keep it in his baby book. 

I wrote that little poem for him in the early weeks of his life on earth. I was smitten with this little bundle of joy who made me a mother. I typed it up on a real typewriter...Andy had to have it for his BYU classes so it was a fancy bit of technology in our little chicken coop. It looks like I illustrated it as well. I am certainly not a poet or an artist, but that was the expression of my overflowing mother heart. Somehow it survived all of the moves and the chaos of a big, busy family. 

And, yes our joy has grown with this son. 

Today I can say again, thank you, thank you for 

this (not so) little son.

How we love him so.

Our son, Scott.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

Mom

P.S. Seeing this picture today, I am struck by how much Porter looks like him! 

"I'll Need to do the Laundry First"

Here's a favorite poem. I have it laminated and keep it displayed in my laundry room. I made sure I packed it in a safe place so I could put it up right away in the new place:

An Unfinished Woman
Here am I Lord,
The dishes barely done and night long since fallen,
The children would not go to bed
And would not go--
And now they are gone.
Gone to places of their own with children of their own
Who will not go to bed and will not go--
And I have taught them what I could and
They have learned the things they would
And now they've gone their way alone to learn the rest
Most on their own.

And I remain, not half spent
And I remain, not yet content,
So much to do, so much to learn,
My past mistakes make stepping-stones,
Not millstones great around my neck but
Stones to guide my searching feet--
And I must search; I'm incomplete.

I watch my years go tumbling by
And I must use them better, I
Have yet so much to learn and do
Before I can return to You.
The hour is late. The night comes on,
My celestial self I would become.
Ah! What wisdom thou gavest to mortal life--I
As sister, mother, daughter, wife--
In earthly roles have seen Thy face.
In my womanly life Thy heavenly place
Is taught through humble tasks and pain.
So, if royal robes I would obtain,
To wear as all Thy glories burst--
I'll need to do the laundry first."

By Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards (mother of 12)