Mary's post reminded me of a plate my Grandma, Mary Ann Stratford, had in her kitchen. Brenda has it now. Maybe I can get a picture of it sometime to share with y'all. This was the poem on the plate.
Thank God for dirty dishes,
They have a story to tell,
While others may be hungry,
We're eating very well.
This was all that I remember being on the plate. Later I learned a second verse.
My grandma was a young mother during the great depression. My dad told me that his father's income went from $250 per month to $75 per month. I don't know how $250 in 1929 dollars compares to today, but that is quite a drastic reduction. My grandma, who was an excellent cook, by the way, must have had to be creative in her grocery shopping. My dad remembers feeling like they had plenty to eat, cereal and milk for breakfast and big pots of stew or soup for dinners with homemade bread. As a child he didn't feel the loss. The verse on the plate probably had special meaning to my grandma knowing they were fortunate to still meet their needs.
The second verse is:
With health and home and happiness
I shouldn't ought to fuss.
By this stack of evidence,
God's been very good to us!
Happy Dishwashing!
That's a good poem to remember. I'll have to quote it to my kids. It also reminds me of a song I recently saw posted by Angie Berezay by Scott McCreery.
ReplyDeleteThe lyrics go as follows:
Lyrics
Mama hollers, "Supper time,
And don't make me tell you twice
Wash your hands and wipe your face
The table's no place for your toys,
And try to use your inside voice,
Don't dig in 'til we say Grace"
So we put down our forks and bowed our heads
And then she prayed the strangest prayer ever said,
"I wanna thank you Lord,
For noisy children and slamming doors,
And clothes scattered all over the floor
My husband workin' all the time,
Draggin' in dead tired at night,
My never ending messy kitchen
And dirty dishes"
We all got real still and quiet,
And daddy asked, "Hon, you alright?"
She said, "There, ain't nothing wrong,
Noisy kids are happy kids,
And slamming doors just means we live
In a warm and loving home
Your long hours and those dishes in the sink
Means a job and enough to eat"
"So I'm gonna thank you Lord,
For noisy children and slamming doors,
And clothes scattered all over the floor
A husband workin' all the time
Draggin' in dead tired at night
My never ending messy kitchen"
For my little busy bees
Beggin' mama, mama can you please?
Always wantin' to call in vain
Loads of laundry pilin' up
Crayons crushed into the rug
And those little sticky kisses
And dirty dishes, and dirty dishes