Aunt Norie’s sewing room
Remember the very touching poem the nurse, Oma Wilson, had written years ago about the lonely seemingly forgotten Mothers, as she cared for her patients each night and whom she herself is one of now in that same nursing home?
I received a beautiful letter from her daughter Myrna Hilty. Her mom grows weaker but she still has that great sense of humor. Other nurses and staff gather in her room in their off-moments. Her mom is such a joy to be with.
Myrna sends us another of her mother's poems I'm sure you'll all enjoy.
A Tired Woman's Epithet
Here lies a woman who was always tired
She lived in a house where no help was hired.
Her last words on earth were: Dear Friends: I'm going
Where washing's not done nor sweepin' or sewing.
Everything there is exact to my wishes
For there they don't eat, there's no dirty dishes.
I'll be where loud anthems will always be ringing
But having no voice, I'll be clear of singing.
I'll play in the clouds with children so sweet
And in my white robes, have manna to eat.
Don't morn for me no, mourn for me never!
For I'm going to do nothing for ever and ever.
Christmas is in the air now the children are excited. Forget your worries sometimes and just concentrate on them, enjoy their world.
Giggle together. Surprise them.
Let them unwind, and you'll find yourself and your worries unwinding with them.
Our love and our prayers are with you, Oma, you have a great audience and thanks a bunch, Myrna.
Love and God bless you all. Aunt Norie, P.O. Box 265, Tonganoxie, 66086-0265.
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