Quiet Competence

She always like to do the home-like things-
To mend a pair of pants a small boy tore;
She never dreamed of palaces and kings
But loved the simple joys life held in store.
At twilight-time she walked beside the stream
To search for one lost duckling that had strayed
Too far from hom:  Should it be lost, her dream
Would be like some old garment worn and frayed.

Her neighbors marveled at her quiet grace
And wondered why she never yearned to be
Away, in search of some far distant place.
But home, for her, held joys they could not see.
They never guessed her faith was tested, though,
When rain beat down small things that tried to grow.
-May Smith White "Fourty Acres"

This poem reminds me of my oldest sister, and outside of my husband, she is my dearest and best friend.  She lives on a little farm in Idaho, when I read this - I miss her even more than I normally do.

She never dreamed of palaces and kings
But loved the simple joys life held in store.

But home, for her, held joys they could not see.

How differently the world would look if home was seen as a sacred place.  Mrs. White's worlview walks through her poetry - and I like at least the home part of her worldview.