The Longing

She was nice but she was not Mama. My aunt had come up from Virginia to take Mama’s place while she was in the hospital. Aunt Alice did everything for us, but my heart longed for Mama’s presence.

During that time, my fourth-grade teacher taught the class a poem. I drew a picture for Mama and included it: “Alone, alone, I walked in the woods and sat on a stone. I sat on a broad stone and sang to the birds. The tune was God’s making, but I made the words.”

My nine-year-old mind did not perceive the power of the poem. At the time, it was the only grown-up poem I knew. I wasn’t a baby, who would send Mama “Mary Had a Little Lamb” or “Humpty Dumpty.”

Now I understand that poem as the heart’s longing to be in the presence of God. Even “Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed” (Luke 5:16 NIV). Was He missing the closeness He had had with His Father before the separation of the Incarnation? Was He longing to be in His Father’s presence when He “went up on a mountainside by himself to pray” and “was there alone” (Matthew 14:23 NIV)?

Mama’s cherished reply is still readable although her handwriting is fading. She began her letter with “my dear sweet Judy” and ended: “I liked your picture and poem. It made me cry. Mama misses her little darlings.”

Two longing hearts embraced.

 

 

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