Cloud Beholds

The Cloud of Witnesses look down today.
Could she see and touch them, she would dance with them for joy.
With open eyes she beholds the gift
the Father has bestowed by year and day,
that in the heritage of parent, ancestors not seen,
that in the form of grown up girl and boy,
their children and their babes bring, incredibly the lift,
comes when her heart prepared to contain,
emptied of self reliance, reason for hope confused,
with logic and self strength and direction, though sought,
not of use.

There she stands, dear Cloud, who went before and care,
to see God's child bathed in kindness, beauty, others dare,
to pour out, generously, selflessly, what gift to share,
that when the need was seen, would act on her behalf.
Oh, dear Father, who ordained the role of mother,
could we have picked among life's gem and chaff,
to choose the moment when Your love was so poignantly, meaningfully there?

Let me never forget the current surrounding throng that You provide,
have shown in intent and deed, to give, then to receive,
so grant to me the direction and means to provide.