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Posts Tagged ‘poem’

Someone shared this today during Church as part of their message. This is the second time I have heard this piece and I connect with it each time. No one knew who the author was. When I got home I was intent on finding a copy of the writing and the author. I went to search this piece out on the net so that I could share it on my blog. I found the piece and the original author.

The Paradox of Our Age

By: Dr. Bob Moorehead (1995)

“We have taller buildings but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less; we have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, yet less time; we have more degrees but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, yet more problems; more medicine, but less wellness; we take more vitamins but see fewer results. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values; we fly in faster planes to arrive there quicker, to do less and return sooner; we sign more contracts only to realize fewer profits; we talk too much, love too seldom, and lie too often. We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life. We’ve added years to life not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We’ve conquered outer space but not inner space; we’ve done larger things, but not better things; we’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less; we make faster planes, but longer lines; we learned to rush, but not to wait; we have more weapons, but less peace; higher incomes, but lower morals; more parties, but less fun; more food, but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort, but less success. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; drive smaller cars that have bigger problems; build larger factories that produce less. We’ve become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, but short character; steep in profits, but shallow relationships. These are times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun; higher postage, but slower mail; more kinds of food, but less nutrition. These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; these are times of fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, cartridge living, throw-away morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to prevent, quiet or kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. Indeed, these are the times! “

 

Before you give the author of this piece too much credit you should know his own paradox. No, it wasn’t written by George Carlin and no it wasn’t written by an anonymous student that witnessed the Columbine tragedy. For a piece that I find so much truth in, I am disappointed to find that the author itself was a living paradox. A pastor. A man whose life should be centered in bringing those around him to know and love Christ was actually a man lost in the very depths of hell. The true author, Dr. Bob Moorehead, turned out to be a pastor that was a sexual molester of male members in his congregation. He quickly resigned when 17 allegations of abuse surfaced in 1997. I guess it is just one more item to chalk up to the “paradox”. Actually it is quite fitting that something written today that could hold such perception and truth would be written by someone who hides within the darkness of our times. In my own words, “This is a time when cowards stand forward as men; a time when those who stand in darkness, purport to live in truth.”

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A few days ago we made a library trip and chose “Let Me Hold You Longer” as one of Camden’s three books to read to her before bed. I didn’t pre-read it but it looked good so we grabbed it. I sat down tonight to read it to her and I choked up. I had to stop and fight tears every few lines to prevent myself from having a major emotional mommy breakdown. I’d like to blame it on the pregnancy hormones but I’m not sure I can blame that.
This last week I have been going through all of our digital photo’s (3 1/2 years worth) and prepping them for a digital scrapbook that I am going to make on blurb.com. This is the coolest website ever that lets you publish your own books. I have a million ideas for what I want to make. First project is to make Camden’s baby book. This will be much faster (and cheaper) than scrap-booking and I’ll have it done by the time the new baby gets here. Plus it is professional quality printing. Anyway, the point is that while looking over the pictures I have been very brokenhearted. I find myself oohing and awing over all of Camden’s baby and toddler pictures and I ache for her to be little again. I know she is still young but I feel like I lost part of her, if that makes any sense.
So, here is the poem from the book Let Me Hold You Longer by Karen Kingsbury.

Long ago you came to me,
a miracle of firsts,
First smiles and teeth and baby steps,
a sunbeam on the burst.

But one day you will move away
and leave to me your past
And I will be left thinking of
a lifetime of your lasts…

The last time that I held a bottle
to your baby lips
The last time that I lifted you
and held you on my hip.

The last night when you woke up crying,
needing to be walked,
When last you crawled up with your blanket,
wanting to be rocked.

The last time when you ran to me,
still small enough to hold.
The last time that you said you’d marry
me when you grew old.

Precious, simple moments and
bright flashes from your past-
Would I have held on longer if
I’d known they were your last?

Our last adventure to the park,
your final midday nap,
The last time when you wore your favorite
faded baseball cap.

Your last few hours of kindergarten,
those last few days of first grade,
Your last at bat in Little League,
last colored picture made.

I never said good-bye to all
your yesterdays long passed.
So what about tomorrow-
will I recognize your lasts?

The last time that you catch a frog
in that old backyard pond.
The last time that you run barefoot
across our fresh-cut lawn.

Silly, scattered images
will represent your past.
I keep on taking pictures,
never quite sure of your lasts…

The last time that I comb your hair
or stop a pillow fight.
The last time that I pray with you
and tuck you in at night.

The last time when we cuddle
with a book, just me and you
The last time you jump in our bed
and sleep between us two.

The last piano lesson,
last vacation to the lake.
Your last few weeks of middle school,
last soccer goal you make.

I look ahead and dream of days
that haven’t come to pass.
But as I do, I sometimes miss
today’s sweet, precious lasts…

The last time that I help you with
a math or spelling test.
The last time when I shout that yes,
your room is still a mess.

The last time that you need me for
a ride from here to there.
The last time that you spend the night
with your old tattered bear.

My life keeps moving faster,
stealing precious days that pass,
I want to hold on longer-
want to recognize your lasts…

The last time that you need my help
with details of a dance.
The last time that you ask me for
advice about romance.

The last time that you talk to me
about your hopes and dreams.
The last time that you wear a jersey
for your high school team.

I’ve watched you grow and barely noticed
seasons as they pass.
If I could freeze the hands of time,
I’d hold on to your lasts.

For come some bright fall morning,
you’ll be going far away.
College life will beckon
in a brilliant sort of way.

One last hug, one last good-bye,
one quick and hurried kiss.
One last time to understand
just how much you’ll be missed.

I’ll watch you leave and think how fast
our time together passed.
Let me hold on longer, God,
to every precious last.

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