At Seventy

The length of our days is seventy years— or eighty, if we have the strength; Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.1 How shall I count, how calculate The worth of days gone by? Shall I take pages from a diary And total up the words? Shall I take numbers from the year I was born? This is how I will count: I will remember the hours of childhood Spent in simple amusement or play. I will recall joys past – when birthdays Were treasured and desired. I will bring to mind the hours Spent in caring for my babies. I will calculate the impossible worth Of being with my children! Oh – I will remember hard times – But only to provide a backdrop For the special moments of shared joy. I will evaluate my days through their eyes Who know my mother-love. Phrases like: “love you to bits” and “bestest Mum” And “Thanks!” And poems written like this one – To celebrate what I cannot calculate – My influence for love and God; My Sunday school classes and The witness of a life with Jesus. I will not dwell on the dark days Though they crowd me with their shadows! I will not forget – but I will discount Them against the worthiest and the best! I will recall a journey in deep snow; 1

Psalm 90

A small flat that was my own; I will revisit places that mark the progress of my years – Bridgewater, Wells, Vancouver and the USA. I will add birds in my garden – and Woodpeckers, kingfishers, tree-creepers And dippers – These will remind me how to count; They will sing in recognised phrases That they love life – and God! And, though clouds and darkness come; Though harsh reflections steal my sleep – I will arise and thank my God Who made me and decides my days. I will reach out to hold His hand Who best considers my times – My times are in His hands!

Written by Dad on the morning of Mum’s seventieth birthday, 2009