Today my daughter made an off the cuff remark about hating poetry. Inconsequential you might think, in the scheme of things but it started me thinking.I have always loved poetry. As a teenager I spent hours poring over love poems, as I got older that led naturally to the sadness of war poets such as Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. What really moved me, apart from the poetry, was their dates. Their date of birth and date of death, some with scarce few years between. Such is the nature of war.
At school English was my favourite and best subject and I still regularly reread the Classics. My husband and I are voracious readers with eclectic tastes, something I am glad our children have inherited.
It’s strange when you first have children. At birth people vie to tell you who your children resemble, mostly my husband, which seems grossly unfair as I did all the hard work! We have 4 children with vastly differing personalities, some are relaxed and confident taking things in their stride. Others need the security of strict routines and are disinclined to like change.
As Christians we have tried to instil some of our values and faith into them. Another thing I am glad they show an interest in .
I sometimes think we try and interest our children in things we would have liked ourselves as children but were not able to be involved in for various reasons. I do know that there has to be a balance through living vicariously through our kids and letting them be themselves.
My maternal grandfather was a very strict man, he should not have been a parent, he was abusive in every way, to the point that when my mother had children she just wanted us to be happy. One downside of this was that she did not insist too much in the way of homework etc. This led to me becoming lazy at school and I left school with very little to show for it. Not that I blame her for it, as a single parent she did the best she could. However as the years go by I regret not doing all I could which is why I want my children to do well , so that they will have a chance of a better life when they are adults.
As the child of divorced parents and a predominantly absent father I do not feel I have inherited anything from him. The only legacy he has left me is an inability to relate to male figures sometimes.
Probably the biggest thing I have inherited from my mother is her resting face! Your resting face is the face your face naturally takes on in unguarded moments. Or in one of those horrible candid photos I seek out and destroy as soon as I can . Thank goodness for digital cameras and the delete option!
My mother’s resting face is stern and almost disapproving. As a child I was scared of her. I suppose it had something to do with the fact she had to be both mother and father to me but a lot of it was to do with how she looked at me sometimes. Even to this day she can look disapproving when I know she is perfectly ok. In my opinion I have inherited her resting face, sigh. Still I suppose it could be worse. I don’t think there are many of us who love our reflection in the mirror, unless we are narcissists. All is see is the end result of a bout of Bell’s palsy and age related wrinkles.
I am truly thankful that God doesn’t look at the outside but He sees my heart, black as it is sometimes, and also that He sees me through Jesus. Otherwise I can say honestly there would be no hope for me.
If my children grow up being loved and having loving relationships and respecting others then I will feel I haven’t done too badly.
Having said that I am still going to get out my poetry books and try and kindle some interest in my children. Now I wonder if anyone does any Doctor Who poetry!
Till next time.