Pocket Treasures

One by one, I pull out the items I’ve collected through the day.

 I know that if these pockets of mine could speak, they’d sure have a lot to say.

I’ve found a little girl’s comb, a safety pin, and the picture someone drew, making me grin.

There’s a rubber band, a paper airplane, and the grocery receipt still wet from the rain.

I’ve got a broken pencil, a spool of thread, and the needle I used to sew

that button on in red.

There’s a Band-Aid wrapper, a crayon that’s blue, a couple of Legos, and a lace from a shoe.

I’ve got some unused tissues, a cap for a pen, and a book of matches

that belongs in the den.

There are a half-dozen pennies, a sticker that’s “cool,”

And a couple of markers from the project due for school.

Throughout the house as I’ve been cleaning, tidying, and dusting,

I’ve picked up this stuff — sometimes smiling, sometimes fussing.

I look at my treasures lying there on the chair,

And I know I’m far richer than a body can tell.

For the treasures that  I’ve stashed there, before I’ve gone on my way,

Are reminders to me that life has been good today.

Sometimes days are plum crazy and time slips by in a whirl,

As I look back, it truly seems that life is just one big blur.

Yet emptying my pockets, I must confess,

Is a guarantee that I’ll see how much I am blessed.

That’s because I have another set of pockets.  And these – I treasure even more.

They’re filled with intangible memories that no one can take from me, for sure.

There’s the gentle memory of brown eyes nestled close to me,

And a little hand patting my back when no one else can see.

I recall those blue eyes sparkling when the sight word test says “Great!”

And I smile because, for once, a kid got up early instead of late.

I treasure hearing laughter rippling in the afternoon sun,

And watching big brother help sister’s chores getting done.

There’s the sense of satisfaction when my kids don’t know I’ve seen,

And they chose to say, “I’m sorry,” before I needed to intervene.

I clasp the memory of the secret whispered in my ear,

“I love you so much, Mama!” where no one else can hear.

I hold the quiet, gentle knowledge that commitment will be strong;

Though marriage sometimes isn’t easy, I know I’ll always belong.

There’s the warmth and tender feeling lingering through me all day long,

From the hug and kiss he gave me before he put his work clothes on.

There’s the knowledge and experience that accumulates with years

Of a God who really loves me and can handle all my fears.

There’s delight in candles burning, the fragrance of the new-mown lawn,

Leaves a-turning, breezes blowing, and the crimson light at dawn.

When the day is drizzly gloomy, when the night seems frigid cold,

I find purpose in my pockets and the treasures that I hold.

When I’m tempted to look around me, to fret and to complain,

There’s meaning in recalling, not what I’ve lost, but all that I have gained.

I clutch the promise of tomorrow: treasures that can’t be bought or sold.

I reach into my pockets and grasp my riches, worth more than gold.

This article was first published in October 1999 and later printed in the book  Southside Glimmers, which is available here.  I published this in this blog almost six years ago.

Our kids are grown and gone, but when they come home we still find things around the house that remind us

of all that we have!