Saturday, 21 September 2013

Never. Never. Never Give Up

I haven't written in a while.  I think that could be because I don't want to beat over and over on the same drum that sounds like job, job, job.  During this time I have been reminded over and over how blessed I am, I've had precious moments with my children that I have cherished, coveted, and celebrated with so much pleasure that I want it to last forever, but know it's a season.  Of course I'm torn in two, between being just a Mama, and having such a strong desire to teach, between parenting and paying bills.  Several times I've lamented my inability to see the future, asked God that I would be able to, but so far he seems to instead be giving me opportunity to be content.  To actively be content means believing that I am where God wants me to be and that I don't want to rush ahead.  It's just in those really quiet moments where doubt sneaks in, and I feel like giving up.  But, the moment passes, and I think...

Never. Never. Never Give Up

I don't know what you it is you are dreaming about, hoping for, wanting. Now, I don't think that things we want just materialize themselves if we sit around and want long enough, I know that we have to participate in working to bring things about, but don't give up on your dreams - the simple, or even the complex.  

I was putting together a poem anthology for a grade 12 class I was in, and my Dad mentioned that this was his favorite poem.  It's gritty, and real to me, and reflects small moments in my life, when I need to remember where I've come from, and where I'm going.  

THE QUITTER - Robert William Service

When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . .
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.

"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know -- but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten -- and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight --
Why, that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try -- it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard. 

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