In America there's the Irish, Italians and the Swede. There's Japanese and Mexicans, unique in the life they lead. Then there's the Black Americans, the Polish and the Swiss. Let's not forget the Indians, in the immigration dish. See the English and the French (who fought a bitter war) Now their sons and daughters unite, on this far and distant shore. The Jews survived a Halocaust. The Germans fled their land. Laotians and the Chinese, touched upon our golden sand. The list, you see, is lengthy, for who life was 'bitter gall.' But I can sense their courage, as they left behind their all. They faced so many trials, in an 'unknown future' plan. They sought to overcome the past, in this freedom loving land. The Black Americans once came, from far across the sea. The Indian Americans were here, they say, before you and me. Our 'melting pot' is heavy, large enough to hold each man. It simmers--slowly cooking, to blend the common man. But freedom is not freedom, if it seeks to mold each one, so that they are identical, when all is said and done. Though our land is overflowing, by those from here and there; there is concern for those with less. Oh, can we cease to care? There's Petowski from Missouri, Charlie Young from Tennessee, Walking Bear in Arizona, and in California...me. God Bless America, my friend, and do I need say more? May it maintain its worthiness from sea to sandy shore. by Vickey Stamps 1994
A Grandmothers Letter to God...by Vickey Stamps
Lord, Teach me to seek your face, when lonely nights bring sad memories, and sleep eludes me. Be the light for my room and comfort me, in these quiet hours. I am weary. The past approaches, and blares quietly before my face. Help me put things into a proper prospective. My youth is gone. My children are grown. Gray hair frames my husbands face, as it does my own. Sometimes I long for the past, and being needed, feeling useful. I complain a lot now, but I really just want someone to know I am here. I want to be needed. Sometimes I feel that tomorrow holds little, but another day to age in. My body daily reminds me it is not young anymore. Lord, please, help me to balance memories, sad and happy ones, so instead of complaining so much, I may instead feel a lot more joy. Don't let me resent this aching of my body, nor the decreased vision now making me have to wear these 'wretched' glasses. Make me grateful I have a family, and deep down, that I know they do care for me. They, like I once was, are just busy . When night comes, teach me to seek You. Help me sense the goodness and love of my husband that shares these 'golden years' with me. Remind me of my children's laughter as they grew. May I take advantage of the extra time, You have placed into my life in my 'older years.' May I be thankful for friends, who probably feel much the same as me. Comfort me, Lord. Be my light. Thank you!
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