this woman’s work

Rad Geek does a tremendous job of remembering A day that will live in infamy

In the cut below, I’m going to paste something that Brett’s grandmother wrote a little over forty years ago because today, it seems appropriate (I posted it a couple of years ago but it’s worth repeating):

Prayer for an Atomic Age
by Ellen Bartow Snavely

Dear Lord, please give this prayer priority if you possibly can. It is a clumsy prayer, Lord, shaped around the horrors that beset us now. I pray it, not for us who knew our chance and failed, but for the children you said long ago to come unto you.

Dear God, before some madman pushes the wrong buttons, please make safe forever, somewhere in your wonderful world, hideaways for our children.

Spare, for the babies of the world one green grassy meadow. You know what little babies need. Just a few women with comfortable laps and loving hearts. (Of course a few soft blankets and an old rocking chair or two would be nice and perhaps a cow and some goats and a wooly lamb.)

And since You know how foolish mothers are maybe a few old Teddy Bears? Most of all leave with them one who laughs and one who is a singer of songs, songs of love and hope to quiet them in the night.

Save for the toddlers of the world some of your beautiful parks. As You know, toddlers don’t need much. Just a singing brook to cool their learning feet. They’ll make out fine with stones to throw and sticks for digging. (Although some cuddly kittens and friendly puppies would be nice.) Leave with them a few wise ones to listen to their early words and to kiss them when they fall. And to tell them of Your moon and sun and stars and clouds and birds and cooling rains.

And since You know how foolish mothers are, perhaps a few cookie jars and some find mud-holes? Leave with them, above all else, one who has the gift of laughter, and one who sings soft songs, songs of hope and love to quiet them in the night.

Make safe, God, a deep, cool forest for the children-ready-for-books. The little boys with freckles, big ears, no front teeth, and stubborn hair. The little girls with pigtails, ponytails, bangs, dimples and scuffed up knees. Leave them the wisdom of the ages between the covers of a few books. They won’t need many for they will be good about sharing. (Of course some sand to draw and write on would be nice and perhaps a few berry bushes for paint pigments.) Leave them a few people with infinite patience and understanding and wisdom.

And maybe because they are young and awkward and because You know how foolish mothers are, a baseball or a football or some jumping ropes and a few dolls? And above all else, leave with them one who laughs and one who is a singer of songs, songs of love and hope to quiet them in the night.

Dear God, I told you this would be a clumsy prayer. And it stumbles more than I thought but I pray it anyhow. I don’t know, of course, how You will make safe these green meadows, big parks, cool forests, and high hills. But You will know.

If, God, you will spare the children of the world and give them the wisdom of books, the gift of laughter, and songs of love and hope, then the rest of us — who have known the full miracle of life complete from your hands — will talk it over with You later on.

Dear Lord, please give this prayer priority if you can.

Possibly related posts

• No related posts.