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June 8, 2020
Today we continue to celebrate International Women’s Day, with our monthly reflection. Randy Thomas submitted “There was a Child went Forth” in memory of his niece, Jennifer Scotchler, who wrote the poem at the age of eight while in the third grade, Jennifer passed on December 6, 2019. May she rest in peace.
The Interfaith Peace Project
THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH
Age 8, Third Grade
1971 – 2019
Age 8, Third Grade
1971 – 2019
There was a child went forth every day
And the first object she looked upon, that object she became,
and that object became part of her for the day or certain part of the day,
or for many years stretching cycles of years.
The daffodils became part of this child,
and the smooth yellow buttercups and the delicate violets,
and the damp grass covered with morning dew,
and the frosted rooftops, and the chirping birds
and the humming crickets, and the scent of rain, and chimney smoke
and the rolling hills, and the spacious plains,
and the sunrise and sunset, all became part of her.
The ocean became part of her, and the light mist, and the
salty ocean spray and the crashing waves, and the
trickling streams flowing into them, and the footprints
of children, and the claw marks of the seagulls, and the
trampled sandcastles and the always changing sand dunes,
and the smell of fish, and the whistling sea grass, and the
passing driftwood, and soft pebbles, all of which she became.
The growing seasons became part of her, the crisp March days,
And new April ducklings, and the last May rains that flow
into summer, and the heat of June, and the ice tea on the back porch,
and the beginning of a new school year, and the new learned skills,
and seeing old friends and making new ones,
and cutting the pumpkin, and dressing up for Halloween,
and ending Autumn with turkey and family,
and the fresh new rain of winter but still no snow,
and red hats and matching mittens,
and sharing family spirit with Christ’s leading her into
the new year was also part of this child.
The paved streets she became, and the new found trails
And the chipmunks, and the beeping cars were part of her
And the flying butterflies and the sting of a bee and the pain,
And the bustling people, and skyscrapers, and the feeling
Of being a piece of the world was a part of this child.
The home of this child became a part of her,
And the rocky, winding road, and the chocolate puddles,
And the old barn, and the scent of wood, and the stone steps,
And the ancient fireplace, and the soft cozy bed
And the comforting dolls and animals,
And Mother baking cookies, and Dad reading a thick book,
The Father playing with her to keep her from getting lonely,
The Mother always there for her, both caring and comforting
somewhat spoiling this child.
The growing want for brothers and sisters, and the memories of
yesterday and the ones still to come, and the burning sun
and the popcorn clouds waiting to be sailed away in.
The horizon’s edge, the flying eagle, the fragrance of
a bouquet of roses.
These became part of that child who went forth every day,
and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.