Memories
by Ruth Bell Graham

I climbed the hills

through yesterday:

and I am young

and strong again;

my children climb

these hills with me,

and all the time

they shout and play;

their laughter fills

the coves among

the rhododendron and the oak

till we have struggled to

the ridge top

where the chestnuts grew.

Breathless, tired, and content

we let the mountain

breeze blow through

our busy minds

and through our hair,

refresh our bodies, hot and spent,

and drink

from some cool mountain spring,

the view refreshing everything—

Infinity, with hills between,

silent, hazy, wild-serene.

Then …

when I return to now

I pray, 

“Thank You, God,

for yesterday.” 

Taken by permission from It’s My Turn, by Ruth Bell Graham, ©1982 The Ruth Graham Literary Trust.