Good Morning, Dad

                                                         

Good Morning, Dad, It’s me again, just calling to say Hi

Don’t I always have a thought or two I’d like to pass you by?

Maybe it’s a rusted bolt or a clanking in the trunk,

Or a thought that kept me up all night about a bike chain that got stuck.

Or there may be a project, the “daddy-daughter” kind

Something you and I can build that I’ve got on my mind.

Even when there’s nothing that I need to ask about

I want to call you anyway and let my feelings out.

Back when I was younger I’d talk your ear right off

Ok, maybe I still do, but you can take it, ‘cause you’re tough.

This morning I just want to chat and tell you what is up

Maybe brag about my kids.  I know you’d eat that up.

But, Dad, my mind’s not thinking of the children still in bed

It’s dwelling on the days gone by and my Daddy Dear instead

I’ll keep my mouth from moving and let my memories flow

And try to bring back things you taught and did so long ago.

Remember the irrigation that flowed across the lawn

And the trains that passed not far away just before the dawn?

There were trees to climb in summer and sleds to ride in snow

And roads to plow in winter, then lawns again to mow.

Work-time was important and you taught me not to shirk

But you also taught to romp and play when we’d finished all that work.

I remember all the hook shots you would take out with the boys

And the way you’d shout from bleachers and be heard above the noise.

“Get up and run”, you’d tell us, “Take that shot and now rebound!”

When we played sports we always knew our dad would be around.

But, Dad, my mind’s not caught up with the playing and the sport

It’s the feeling I have in my heart that seems of great import.

You’re body, Dad, is older.  It doesn’t run so fast

As it did when we were younger--in my memories of the past.

It’s this thought that made me want to call and hear your voice today.

Thinking with me always I want you and Mom to stay.

But that’s not the Father’s plan, you taught me all along

He planned that we’d get older and our bodies not stay strong.

Guess here’s the thought I want to share as I call you up today.

I love you, Daddy…thank you.  That's all I have to say.

But wait, what is it I should do when your phone rings on and on?!

When you aren’t around to tease me and help me carry on?!

Dad, I love you so much my heart could break in two.

When you’re not here to hear me, then what will I do????

“Sweety,” I can hear you say, “Come here and sit by me.”

“Wipe those tears right off your face and let those questions be.”

“You know it’s not forever, this separation part.”

“You know it deep down there inside your saddened little heart.”

“We’ve taught you all since babies, God’s perfect, loving plan”

“So tears arn’t necessary for this aging, older man.”

“Life isn’t long for anyone, we’re not on this earth to stay”

“Then we’ll all be back together.  Let’s look forward to that day!”

Thank you, Dad, for listening, once again to my long thoughts

I’ll call again tomorrow and we’ll have another talk.

Kathryn Chapman Oct 6, 2012

Briar Avenue

We really are sheltered here in Happy Valley.  People say "sheltered" as if it were a slander, but it is a blessing.  The Lord brought His people here to the Rocky Mountains, a shelter from the storms of the world.  I want my home to shelter my children like these mountains and this valley have sheltered the saints for over 165 years.  I want it to be a place where they can grow and feel what it's like to live in a loving, safe place.  Briar Avenue is that kind of place--the kind we only see in old black and white reruns. 

Briar Avenue is a place where children run from yard to yard knowing they are welcome wherever they decide to play and parents know their children are watched over.  It's a place where TVs take a back seat to swing sets, trampolines, and basketball hoops.  Neighbors lean over backyard fences to admire each others gardens and share plums, berries, and apricots from whoever's trees bore the fruit.  The irrigation runs on Monday mornings and cools the feet of children as their grandparents fondly remember their Mondays in the water.  Generations have grown up here taking in the beauty of "Y" Mountain as it turns golden in the moments before the sun sets over Utah Lake.  That is when parents call in their troops, coaxing them away from bicycles, jump ropes, and that one last jump shot.  They kneel as families thanking Heavenly Father for the blessings of life, knowing that all up and down the street their children's friends are doing the same with their families.

No, there is no place quite like Briar Avenue.  It's a comfy bed I would love to snuggle down in and never leave.  But, morning will come and I will have to leave my cozy, safe shelter and take on the world again.  That is not bad.  It is wonderful!  There's a whole world out there.  A life waiting to be lived.  People waiting to be loved.  But I will forever be grateful for and long for my warm, happy place on Briar.

Seeing What He Sees

She looks at him, he looks at her.
Their love is plain to see.
For over sixty years it's been
Their heart born legacy.

She's always been a beauty
To anyone around,
But none appreciate it more
Than his grinning eyes of brown.

For years he's looked upon her
At home and on the stage
And praised her work and efforts
In the many roles she's played.

Her face is etched upon his mind
Her kindness in his heart.
They laugh and smile and relish life
Making aging well an art.

His eyes have changed, as some eyes do,
After years of working well,
The features of his lovely bride
His eyes no longer tell.

But her beauty, only strengthened,
By the ups and downs of life,
Is the kind that comes from deep within
More felt than seen, his wife.

"Do not feel sad," he tells me,
As we speak of vision lost
"For I have her, and she has me.
I'll take that at any cost."

"We'll always have each other,
Thanks to a loving God.
And that will keep us happy
Through any trial we trod."

She looks at him, He looks at her.
Their love is plain to see
And now I understand at last
Their heart born legacy.
                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

~For Lael and Margaret Woodbury

My Voice

Why did He give this gift to me

If I must hold it in for no one else to see?

The time’s not now

The time’s not right

For now I kneel right here

And kiss small heads goodnight.

These are the greatest gifts that I could have.

They are the reason I have given all I have.

So with my voice I’ll sing to them

And teach them all

Of who they’re meant to be.

Maybe someday, I’ll stand

And sing upon some stage

And the applause and praise will ring.

But for tonight, I sing to them a lullaby.
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

One More Kathryn

Feb 2009

There once was a family, they all went by Chapman

The one thing they lacked was just one more Kathryn.

Now, don’t get me wrong, they already had two

But a 3^rd one was needed and John knew what to do

He went off to the Y and searched all around

Until a tall Kathryn in a green coat was found. 

She hap’ly agreed to his get married skeem

For this boy she found out was one tall handsome dream. 

We can’t overlook the day she decided

She opened her heart and to her diary confided

“He made me a chocolate double-tiered cake

This boy, if he asks me, my hand he may take!”

February 14^th was the day she wrote that

But John, a bit slow, on his think chair he sat

For two more full weeks, her hopes started to drop

But he finally caught on and the question he popped.

Ten years have gone by since his search she did end.

And now to the fam’ly this message I send.

The last name he gave me the day that we married.

I gratefully took and now I have carried

With honor and love for the Chapmans before me

Especially John, and our Valentine’s story. 

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman 

Trish and Dan

I knelt to say my prayers today

To count my blessings up

And found that God had given me

An overflowing cup

He brought to mind the people

Who instruments had been

In His great work of kindness

Through serving fellow men

He helped me to remember

The kindness we’d been shown

By two who opened heart and home

And loved us as their own

Trish, my cherished sister,

Who’s been there all my life

And Daniel, man of greatness

Who’s taken her to wife

Yours was a gift most needed

A roof over our heads

A place where we could play and run

And sleep upon our beds

But more than this—you showed us

His tender loving care

When unlocked doors you opened wide

And a blessed home you shared
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

Third Hour

I sit and look around at you

You women of the Lord

Gathered in this simple class

Each members of our ward

There is a reason you are here

To learn or grow or teach

It’s up to you to find out why

His purposes to seek
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

The Night is Short

The night is short, the morning quick.
My sleepy head I just can’t lick.
My bed so warm, my pillow deep
Alarms go off and I still sleep.
I’m just a little sluggish, see
And hope Paige hasn’t given up on me.

See you Monday, fresh and early.

Signed,The Slug-Three-Doors-Down

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

Stillborn

8/2/2011

John and Sarah,

We are so sad as we think of your hearts,

So tender and hurting and beat.

A baby you’d hoped for and prayed you could have

And forever in your family keep.

We don’t have the answers

We can’t stop the pain

But we know that The Father is near.

He’ll hold your sweet baby, caress, and keep safe

Till you come to take care of her there.

Our prayers are with you,

John and Kathryn Chapman

“With all the strength of my soul, I testify that God lives, that His Beloved Son is the firstfruits of the Resurrection, that the gospel of Jesus Christ is that penetrating light that makes of every hopeless dawn a joyful morning.”       ~Thomas S. Monson

Sara B.

Our Sara’s all grown up, this sweet little girl

All grown up and gone off to face the big world

To college she goes way far off in the West

As your family we have but just one small request

Sara, remember how much you are loved

By your parents, your siblings, and Father Above

Quest for the Best

I left your arms so long ago

To venture into life

Into this world of beauty

Of challenges and strife.

What is it you would have me do?

What treasure should I find?

The answer comes so quietly

And gently to my mind.

It isn’t gold or diamonds

Or something you can see,

The Lord has sent me out upon

The quest for the best in me.
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

My Mothers

How can a person such as I

Ever endeavor to describe

The blessings held within her life

As a daughter, mother, and a wife

These blessings I attribute to

God-given mothers, the two of you.

I sat and read a bit today

Of the struggles that I had

When on my wedding, day of days,

I acquired a second Mom and Dad.

What now will I call them?

They’re his parents not mine.

Parental terms too dear to me

This was going to take some time.

I asked my own Mom for advice

And this is what she said,

“Don’t say her first name or Hey-You,

But call her Mom instead.”

How could I ever use that word

That precious, blessed name

With any other woman than

The one from which I came

She’d earned that name through sleepless nights

Through smiles, and tears, and pain

She’d sewn my dresses, made my dolls,

And tamed my chestnut mane.

She cried with me when I was hurt

And bandaged up my knees

She kissed and held me close to her

And listened to my pleas

How could another woman now

Be granted such an honor?

Could my dear Mother’s precious name

Be shared and placed upon her?

But in a moment she knew not

She earned that title too

She worked and served and I could see

That ‘Mother’ name would do.

It was the night of our reception

After I’d changed out of my dress

I noticed she was working still

And wouldn’t take a rest

Everyone had gone to bed

But she kept plugging on

Till all the floors had been swept up

And each last dish was done.

I saw within her qualities

That my own mother had

And knew that I could learn from her

As I had my Mom and Dad.

Another fact not overlooked,

To it I must give note,

She was the one who raised the man

With whom I’d share the yoke.

Eight years have passed now

Since the day I gained another Mother

And I’ve some children of my own,

Three sisters and their brother.

And at night when I kneel down

To offer up my prayer

I thank him for my Mothers

With that blessed name they share.

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

Mom #1, thank you for all you have taught me in my life and for molding me into the person that I am.  I make so very many mistakes, but you have always loved me and shown confidence in me.  I have always loved to talk to you.  Dad still makes fun of how much I call you, but I need you.  I need to hear your voice, your “Helloooo” (with that dip in it), on the other end of the line.  I need to be called “Katie” and feel your love through the miles, to know I am yours, that I will always be yours.  I need to hear stories I’ve heard a thousand times, old familiar names and old familiar places.  I have seen you serve all my life.  You have worked until your body screams out to stop and then you work a little more.  You care for me when you should have nothing left to give.  You draw on our Heavenly Father for strength and share it with us.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Mom #2, how can a person show so much love to one who is not her own.  But as I have heard Dad say, I am not yours by birth, but by covenant.  My first Mom gave me life and you have given me someone to share it with.  How can I thank you for such a gift.  Through your sacrifices he learned of the world but was sheltered from its stains.  He’s kind to me.  He’s patient, loving, and understanding.  He’s a hard worker, humble, respectful, and dedicated.  When he sits at the piano and fills our home with music, I thank you.  When I come home from some evening meeting to find bathed, sleeping children, dishes done, and the floors all swept, I thank him.  BUT he reminds me it is you who wouldn’t have let him go to bed with the kitchen all a mess.  When I have made some really naïve comments or choices you have not judged me, but loved me, and shown confidence in me—in us. 

Mom and Mom, I love you both and thank you for your love—and for the love of our dear Dads!! 

Yours always,

Kathryn

Knees

What is a knee? One might assess

It’s bone and flesh and tissue

But to the one possessing it

Its use is more the issue

To her it’s how she learned to move

To crawl across the floor

And then to stand, to walk, to run

To fall and run some more

Throughout her life she’s needed knees

For work and play and leisure

But for one purpose they’ve been used

So much we can not measure

Those were the times she bent down low

And on her knees she prayed

For the children that she cared for

As they stumbled through each day

Then she’d get up and help them

Run them to and fro

While the burden of a heavy womb

Let other children grow

And now her knees are breaking down

All worn and torn and tattered

Because she chose to use them for

The things that really mattered

As I reflect on knees used up

In caring for her crew

And hips and back and feet and hands

And all that she’s been through

I know I need to thank her

For the sacrifice she’s made

For the life that she has given us

And the heavy price she’s paid  

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman 2010

Just a Nursery Worker

"I'm just a Nursery worker

Why should I even go?
If I'm not there at church today
Nobody's going to know."

That might be what you told yourself
This morning as you dressed
But let me tell you my thoughts now
And put your heart at rest.

My Sundays as a mother
Are hectic—that is true
And there are days I wonder
If I'll ever make it through.

But then my mind remembers
Nursery's just an hour away!
I'll get through one more sacrament
And go to class today!

Please know how much I love you.
I'm thankful that you came.
Tonight I'll thank our Father
And praise your blessed name.

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

My Superman

Let me take a minute

To tell you how I feel

About this boy I married

He’s superman, for real!

He’s tall and dark and handsome

A true sight to behold

He’s smart and rich and funny

And quickly growing old

So, maybe I stretch the truth a bit

But ~ he really is quite cool

He’s quite the awesome Daddy

And he’s doing great in school

He swept me off my feet one day

Back in nineteen ninety-nine

I quickly had my mind made up

And was set to make him mine

He hummed and hawed forever

It took him four whole weeks

Before he popped that question

And my hand he did seek

We met and married in Utah

And thought we’d stay a while

But he carried me off to Virginia

With his great big happy smile

From there is was to Texas

Then PA and Raleigh too

It was a lot of packing

But without him I’d be blue

So, across the land I followed

From place to place to place

He’s the one that keeps me going

With that smiling happy face

Along the road we’ve picked up

A hitchhiker or three

They’re sweet and cute and precious

And growing up like weeds

This poem started out to be

A tribute to a man

The one that borrowed raisins

And played the tuba in the band

I thought he had no faults at all

Not true, I came to see

But for this I am grateful

They’re what make him right for me

Thank you for the flowers,

The presents and the notes

But the love you always give me

Is what gets my lasting vote

143 ~Kathryn 

Jenn Dibble Mother's Day

What would we do without a mom

Who loves us oh-so-much?

She combs our hair and makes our beds

And fixes us our lunch.

We need her even more right now

Since Daddy isn’t here.

He’s off to “school” and then Iraq

But for us there’s no fear

Cause Mommy’s hugs and kisses

Are warm and full of love

And she and Dad teach us great faith

In Father up above.

Oh, Mommy how we love you

And hope that you will know

You’re ‘portant to us little ones

As we learn and play and grow.

We love you, Mommy!!!

Lizzie and Alex

In Time

To everything there is a season

A time to dream, a time to pray

A time to learn and store up wisdom

A time to meet, and smile, and love

A time to bond, a time to grow

A time to conceive, a time to bare,

To nourish, cheer, and praise

A time to reprimand for choices wrong

To kiss skinned knees and to rhymes give song

A time to let your children go

To pray for them, a time to feel their pain.

A time for dark manes, a time for gray

A time for health, for strengthened bones

A time for pain, a time to groan.

A time to weaken, fall on knees,

A time of need, a time to lean,

A time to bend as willows, low,

And on your life reflect

A time to slow, to sit, to think,

A time to breath once more,

A time to bury earthly life

A time to hasten home.

                          ~by Kathryn May Chapman

Healed and Home at Last

2006 Written for Amy and Jeff Bell after their oldest son, Joseph, died of brain cancer.  Valley Forge Ward, PA.

A sweet, small boy runs strong and free
Through fields and puddles and round the trees.
In his hands he gathers leaves
And rocks and sticks and crawly things.
His laughter's heard all round the place
And smiles are broad upon his face.
The legs, once weak, now quick and limber,
Carry him through grass and timber.
Two feeble arms and hands so thin,
Now perched up underneath his chin,
Are plump and pink and move with ease.
He's happy now, it's plain to see.
But as he sits and thinks a bit,

He sees his house and misses it.
Just then a big, strong hand he feels--
The hand that carries, mends and heals
All little boys and girls
That suffer while they're in the world.
A hand once weary like his own
That brought him here.
He's finally home.  
                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

To Our Nana

May 2004

To our Nana far away

Up in the mountain tops

The one who’s got that pinchy bug

And lives with Grandpa “Pops”

We want to say we love you

And wish that you were near

We had you only two short weeks

But loved having you here!

Our Mom is getting better

Since Elisa May was born

But since you are so far away

We’re all a bit forlorn

So, turn and ask our Grandpa

If, for us, he’ll give a hug

And know that we are thinking of

That sneaky pinchy bug.

Happy [Grand] Mother’s Day

Love,

Joshua, Anna, & Elisa

Girls Camp

We sit around the fire

As camp comes to an end,

Our noses burnt, our muscles sore,

Yet still smiles each dear friend.

We’ve run away from spiders

We’ve painted hands and feet.

We’ve hiked and played and chanted

And eaten every treat.

The mountains all around us

Wind rustly through the trees

Remind us of His arms of love

And bring us to our knees.

Our friendships we have strengthened

Our testimonies glow

As our dear Savior’s Spirit’s here

And Him we’ve come to know.

Let us never wonder

Nor let our hearts forget

The sisterhood that we have built

And goals that we have set

Our Heavenly Father knows you

He loves you—every one.

Come unto Him in times of need

And lean upon His Son.
                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

From Number Twelve

Some say a bakers dozen

Is far more than enough

There isn’t room for all of them

Let alone, all their stuff.

But two big hearted people

With love enough to spare

Took the world’s opinions

And tossed them in the air.

A widow from Alaska

Toting daughter, babe, and son

Met widower from Utah

And knew widow days were done.

To hers they added his son

And his three daughters too

Then within not many years

Four more sons joined the crew.

Eleven children, Holy Cow!

How did they do it all?

How did they keep them clothed and fed?

“Enough!” the world would call.

Now, here’s where the world’s opinion,

The pressures and the stress,

Could have changed it all for me

As it could for all the rest.

You see, I’m baby number twelve,

The second last in line,

So grateful that within their hearts

Some extra love did shine.

Two more girls they welcomed,

Me, and Baby Sis,

Into their house of Mayhem

To grow with all the rest.

So, was our household perfect?

Did they give us everything?

Well, they taught us how to work and share,

To love and laugh and sing.

Most times our clothes were hand-me-downs

That Mom had patched or sewn

And our meat and fruit and vegetables

Often raised and cooked at home.

Were their parenting skills perfected

To match this motley crew?

Or maybe we should ask ourselves,

How did they make it through?

Okay, it wasn’t perfect. 

We had our share of fights

And Mother cried herself to sleep

On far too many nights.

But what should they do different,

If it could be done again?

Would life have been much better

With only eight or nine or ten?

With all my heart I thank them

For the choices that they made,

For the brothers and the sisters

To each of us they gave.

Each one of us so different

Unique in every way,

Short and tall, blonde, brunette

Eyes brown, blue, greenish gray.

We have one sis who beat us all

In the race to earn her wings

And thoughts of her help us recall

How short lived are worldly things.

Could we really spare another?

Would our lives still be as rich,

If for a life of ease and wealth

Mom or Dad had bailed this ship?

The greatest gifts they’ve given us,

Besides our faith in God,

Are brothers, sisters, every one,

The evens and the odds J.

Sister, Number One,

And brother, Number Two

Your leadership has taught us much

And helped us muddle through.

Number Three we miss you.

Number Four, big teddy bear,

So close in age and kindness

To Five’s graceful, loving care.

Six, is oh-so stubborn

But also soft in heart,

Not unlike Seven’s acts of love

And hand sewn works of art.

Brother, Number Eight,

His size deceives a few

Cause underneath there lies a heart

That’s gold and strong and true.

Our other brother in the line,

Nine’s known for artful pen

He shares appreciation for

The music played by Ten.

Eleven, tall and thoughtful,

Is witty, there’s no doubt.

Skip over me to Thirteen

Whom we couldn’t live without.

So, really when all’s said and done

Is thirteen still too much?

**As Dad says, “Too much talking.

Sit down and eat your lunch.”

**With all our strengths and weakness

    It’s just the perfect bunch.

                (alternate ending)

                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

First Day of School

 It’s the first day of school and the bus is near

And on Mommy’s cheek he sees a big tear.

“It’s okay, Mom,” says this oldest son.

He can’t wait to go, he’s ready to run.

She squeezes him tight and gives him a kiss

Then lets him jump on so his bus he won’t miss.

Twelve years fly by like the breeze in the night

And now off to college, he’s catching his flight

A mission comes next and a wife he has won

A Bachelor’s degree and big blue eyed son.

Two little girls come pretty quick

And he thinks to himself, “My life is plain slick!”

But plans have been made and plans he must keep

Even if this involves losing his sleep.

The GMAT is taken—time and again

Essays are written, re-written, and then

After all that hard work the happy reply

To the south he’ll be going with “Tar” in his eyes

It’s the first day of school and the bus is near

On his Sweetheart’s cheek he sees a big tear.

“We finally made it,” he says with a smile

But wait…you better be startin’ with STYLE

So, here’s some new pants, shirts, and some socks

I’ve tucked them with love right here in this box!

I love you, Juan Paco!!!

K8E

143

Easter Thoughts

Babies are sent down to us one by one

From our Father in Heaven and His Home they come

We love them and teach them and show them the way

To live out their lives and return Home some day

But there is only one Door through which they can go

To those Heavenly realms from this Earth down below

Some pass through the Door after just a few years

And teir families they leave with their hearts full of tears

But it is to our Savior’s sweet arms that they come

When they say their goodbyes and through that Door they run

For He is One that passed through The Door

And then back to Earth He entered once more

Our children, each one, through The Door they will go

Our parents, our siblings, and ourselves, this we know

But the door is not locked.  The key has been turned

Death’s grasp has been broken and its walls have been burned

Resurrection will come for the weak and the small

For the old and the young, for the short and the tall

It is on Easter Morning we think of the babes

Who’s names have been written on headstones of graves

He knows them.  He loves them.  He keeps them.  And then…

To their families He will return them again.

                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

Dad 2011

There are a few words I could write

On this here Father’s Day. 

Words that might describe our dad.

So many things to say.

He’s quite a piece of our work, our Dad.

He’s one amazing critter.

Farmer, Salesman, Trucker, Boss,

He’s surely not a quitter.

He whips the young bucks on the court

His hook shots make you wonder.

He takes the hills on snow machines,

He’s not too old, by thunder!

He’s had rough edges through the years,

But they are smoothing out.

His love comes shining through for us

Of that we have no doubt.

He can take on any challenge

With hammer, nail, and glue

If he just puts his mind to it

There’s nothing he can’t do

He’s taught us self reliance

And faith and trust in God.

And when life knocks you down a bit

Get up and beat the odds.

His life has been devoted

To family and to wife

We’ve seen in his example

The gift of sacrifice.

And now as he gets older

And we think of all he’s done

We thank him for the care he’s giv’n

For each daughter and each son

                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

Cynthia

Cynthia, a dear old friend

Of the sister we once knew

As you go through that parting veil

A request I have of you.

I was so young when last I saw

My sister’s loving face

And felt her arms around me

And watched her gentle grace

You were one who loved her too

So I thought you wouldn’t mind…

Hug her, kiss her, and tell her that

We’ll be seeing her in time.

Love,

The Mays

Blessing Day

Tomorrow you will grow and love and marry.

Struggles, joys, ups and downs

Will all be yours.

But tonight the world is held at bay

As I marvel at your first laugh,

Your fingers round my thumb,

And the love in my heart.
                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

Bennett

I see my Mommy’s teary eyes and Daddy’s head bowed down

And look at all the children and the grown ups in my town.

I know that you’re all sad and cry a lot since I’ve been gone

But I also see my Mommy smile and hear my Daddy’s song.

I’m thankful you were there for me and loved me with such care

I know you miss the laughs and hugs and kisses that we shared.

But you smile now because you know I have great work to do

And I can count on you to come and join me when you’re through. 

I have my Elder Brother here who helps in every way.

It’s Him that brought me here from Earth, seems just the other day.

He says He will watch over those I love and left below

Until we’re back together. He’ll take care of you, I know.

It’s okay to shed a tear or two when you are sad.

I do the same when I think of my loving Mom and Dad,

But then I am reminded of God’s plan for everyone…

Through Him I’ll ever love you and will always be your son.

Kathryn May Chapman, Feb 2011

I’m Thinking of You

I see my Mommy’s teary eyes and Daddy’s head bowed down

And look at all the children and the grown ups in my town.

I know that you’re all sad and cry a lot since I’ve been gone

But I also see my Mommy smile and hear my Daddy’s song.

I’m thankful you were there for me and loved me with such care

I know you miss the laughs and hugs and kisses that we shared.

But you smile now because you know I have great work to do

And I can count on you to come and join me when you’re through. 

I have my Elder Brother here who helps in every way.

It’s Him that brought me here from Earth, seems just the other day.

He says He will watch over those I love and left below

Until we’re back together. He’ll take care of you, I know.

It’s okay to shed a tear or two when you are sad.

I do the same when I think of my loving Mom and Dad,

But then I am reminded of God’s plan for all the world…

Through Him I’ll ever love you and will always be your girl.

Kathryn May Chapman, Feb 2011

Bearing the Hearts of His Warriors

11/16/2011

 In time bones grow old.

In time bodies are worn.

Constant pain replaces strength.

When aged hearts hang low,
Our Savior, from His heaven,

Comes to gather close His Warriors—

The Gray-Haired Champions.

He holds the heavy hearts,

Once young and strong.

He holds them close

And cries.

“You’ve given all I asked, and more.

You’ve lived your life for me.”

“We are close, you and I.

We’ll bear this together as we always have.”