5 Years Old!

Yesterday Jackson turned 5.  We aren't celebrating until this weekend, but I took him to the beach for some alone time.  It was a sweet trip.

When we go out as a family, Jackson is usually so bursting with excitement that he'll run on ahead and I just do my best to keep up.  Yesterday I noticed that he walked alongside me and held my hand.  If he did go on ahead it was only a little and then would turn and hold out his hand for me and say, "C'mon, Mama."  Or he would realize that he had left me and come racing back.

He kept saying things that sounded so grown-up.
Things he never said when he was four.
He blew on an old dandelion and said,  "I think this is a wishing flower."  

I asked him if he should pray instead (as that would do a lot more good) and he said, 

"Yeah, that's what I mean.  I was praying that you would tell me about the glory of God."  

Ha!  Jeff has been talking to him about God's glory lately, so I knew he was just saying the first thing that came to mind that sounded important.  It was funny to hear his little voice say it, though!  Reminded me that he's not so little anymore.  And then I had to blink back tears.

But before I could think on it too much, he was jumping and calling to the birds,

acting little again!

I didn't want to leave!  It was one of those times that you think, "We need to do this more often!"

 

City Hall field trip

 

 

Touch of the Master's Hand

When I was a little girl, my Great Grandma taught me a poem.  It's the same one that she taught to her daughter and her daughter's daughter (my Mama).  Now I'm teaching it to my daughters.

 I love tradition.

"Touch of the Master’s Hand," by Myra Welsh

T’was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

"Who’ll start the bidding for me?"

"A dollar, a dollar," then, two! Only two?

"Two dollars, and who’ll make it three?

"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

Going for three . . . "  But no,

From the room, far back, a grey haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

And tightening the loose strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet

As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"

And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?

Two thousand! And who’ll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;

And going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

"We do not quite understand

What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:

"The touch of a master’s hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,

Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;

A game, and he travels on.

He is "going" once, and "going" twice,

He’s "going" and almost "gone."

But the Master comes and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that’s wrought

By the touch of the Master’s hand.