The Locket

It was tarnished and old with a broken clasp,

I tossed it into the drawer,

Why did my mother give it to me,

And what would I want it for.

She said I liked it long ago,

When it was shiny and new.

But why she thought I would like it now,

I really wish I knew.

The years passed by, and my little girl,

Was going through my things,

Slipping bracelets on her arm,

And trying on my rings.

"What's this?" I heard my daughter ask,

As she held it for me to see.

"Why, its just an old locket," I replied,

"That your grandma gave to me."

"Oh mommy, isn't it beautiful?

It's shaped just like a book,

With pages you can turn inside,

And pictures...Oh, look, Mommy, look,"

I saw it through a child's new eyes,

What I should've seen from the start,

The reason my mother treasured it so,

And wore it close to her heart.

Now when I'm tempted to look at the surface,

Discounting what's broken or old,

I think of the locket all tarnished and old,

With an inside of purest gold.

~Author Unknown To Me~

Here's to good women,

May we know them,

May we be them,

May we raise them.

There is in every true woman's heart a spark of

heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity,

but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.

~Elisabeth Guizot~

Being born a woman isn't destiny. That is fate.

Destiny is how you accept your womanhood and

what you make of it.

~Anthony de Mello, SJ~