A Mother’s Prayer
I read this poem a long, long time ago. I don’t know its source. I calligraphied it onto a piece of parchment, framed it, and keep it hanging where I can see it. But I’ve never been able to track down the author’s name.
Lord of all pots and pans and things,
Since I’ve no time to be
A saint by doing lovely things
Or watching late with thee,
Or storming heaven’s gates.
Make me a saint by getting meals
And washing up the plates.Although I must have Martha hands,
I have a Mary mind;
And when I black the boots and shoes
Thy sandals, Lord, I find.
I think of how they trod the earth
What time I scrub the floor;
Accept this meditation, Lord,
I haven’t time for more.Warm all the kitchen with thy love,
And light it with thy peace,
Forgive me all my worrying
And make all grumbling cease.
Thou who didst love to give men food
In room or by the sea
Accept this service that I do—
I do it unto thee.