One of the stories I told in my sermon today was about my mum. Mum was a dreadful worrier. She worried about what she’d wear, what if…, what to eat, what to buy – you name it, she worried about it. We used to tease her about it especially when she’d set off for an appointment 4 hours ahead of time just in case… She was never late for anything.
(Obviously I have inherited my father’s temperament which was the exact opposite!)
I found a poem called I would Pick more Daisies by Nadine Stair which I sent to mum once upon a time. It summed her up beautifully and she laughed when she read it. When she was dying she asked if that could be read at her funeral and we did. I preached on that today.
I would pick more daisies
If I had my life to live over,
I’d dare to make more mistakes next time.
I’d relax. I’d limber up. I would be sillier than I’ve been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously, take more chances, take more trips.
I’d climb more mountains, and swim more rivers.
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would, perhaps, have more actual troubles, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones.
You see, I’m one of those people who lived seriously, sanely, hour after hour, day after day.
Oh, I’ve had my moments, and if I had it to do over again, I’d have more of them.
In fact, I’d try to have nothing else, just moments, one after another – instead of living so many years ahead of each day.
I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, hot water bottle, raincoat and a parachute. (and in my mum’s case – a hankie!)
If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter this trip.
If I had my life to live over, I would start going barefoot earlier in the Spring, and stay that way later into Autumn.
I would go to more dances.
I would risk more merry-go-rounds.
I would pick more daisies.