|
Post by Kimmy on Apr 24, 2009 19:28:41 GMT
A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on Apr 25, 2009 12:00:01 GMT
A dear old lady was asked what she used to make her complexion so beautiful and her whole being so bright and attractive.
She answered:
"I use for my lips, truth
I use for my voice, kindness
I use for my ears, compassion
I use for my hands, charity
I use for my figure, uprightness
I use for my heart, love
I use for any who do not like me, prayer."
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on Apr 26, 2009 10:03:49 GMT
If I had a choice An angel's what I'd be, And everything that happened I'd be there to see,
You'd be right there with me To wrap my wings around, Only you would know I'm there For I would'nt make a sound,
I would see ahead of you To help direct your path, I'd always be there with you You'd never have to ask,
I'd be there protecting you And keeping you from harm, For nothing is too hard for me With my loving arms,
When you have somewhere to go I'll be with you in flight, I'll also be there protecting In the middle of the night,
So if I had a choice An angel's what I'd be, I'd be right there beside you Helping you so see.
|
|
|
Post by banger on Apr 26, 2009 14:37:33 GMT
|
|
|
Post by banger on Apr 26, 2009 14:38:06 GMT
Life will always remain a gamble, with prizes sometimes for the imprudent, and blanks so often to the wise. ~Jerome K. Jerome
The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. ~Henry David Thoreau
Life is not a final. It's daily pop quizzes. ~Author Unknown
Eating, loving, singing and digesting are, in truth, the four acts of the comic opera known as life, and they pass like bubbles of a bottle of champagne. Whoever lets them break without having enjoyed them is a complete fool. ~Gioacchino Rossini
|
|
|
Post by banger on Apr 26, 2009 22:19:08 GMT
Give us Lord, a bit o' sun, A bit o' work and a bit o' fun; Give us all in the struggle and sputter Our daily bread and a bit o' butter. ~From an inn in Lancaster, England
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on Apr 27, 2009 9:25:55 GMT
I wasn't paying attention at the time to the good example my father set. He wasn't consciously "setting a good example" -- he was just living life according to his values.
It was the 1950s in a small Middle Georgia farm town. Our family owned a clothing store in the middle of the main business block downtown. Six days a week, 8am until 6pm (9pm on Saturday), my father presided over his business. And sometimes an angel would come to our store.
I didn't recognize those visitors as angels. Neither did my mother, who accepted my father's decisions but referred to Daddy's angels as "bums". She was concerned that they painted hobo marks to guide others to my father. My father was, and still is, an extremely kind man. He bought them lunch.
I guess Daddy knew Mama's opinion and took precautions in case any individual "angel" might actually be an alcoholic. He would have a friendly, encouraging conversation with the person, who was shabby and obviously down on his luck.
Then Daddy would walk him across the street to the Coffee Cup Cafe and pay for him to eat the daily special, a hearty meal. Depending on how the conversation was going, Daddy would sometimes sit and have lunch with him.
Another variation on this theme was sometimes Daddy would bring the man to our house to do yard work to earn a bus ticket. Mama would feed him a good home cooked meal but would serve it to him in the kitchen or on the back steps.
Daddy explained his theory of angels to his children this way: "It's Biblical. Sometimes God sends an angel among men unawares, to test us. How we behave toward the least of his children is how we treat Him."
I remember chuckling at my "naive" father's actions later when I got more grown and more savvy. I laughed that he got it backwards about who the angel was.
Now that I am middle-aged, I'm proud to say that I realize how blessed I am to have such a wise and good man, Joseph Van Johnson, as my father and my teacher.
I am also doubly blessed to be meeting angels now myself. More than once I have recognized God Himself staring back at me from the face of a homeless mentally ill person. I understand now that my father was respecting the spirit of God that is within each of us.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on Apr 28, 2009 19:24:21 GMT
Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"
He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.
Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."
"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.
"Yes it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life."
I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.
I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"
I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live.
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked. Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man. " I knew I needed to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply.. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."
Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on Apr 29, 2009 9:00:22 GMT
When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.
|
|
|
Post by banger on Apr 29, 2009 11:22:34 GMT
Is Anyone Here In Agony city Agony bless me, blisters tender me, friends carry me along and let me carry along this trail of tears that we will decorate with the music of our longings in the empty air between us and the space that gathers round us where we agree to be.
The scrapheaps of our forefathers father forth our fractured hopes. Frozen embryonic dreams of progress made monstrous desolations in disposable negotiations. The rubble and the stones we gather, the dixie cups of toxic juice we drink.
Let the burden seem intolerable in the midnight of our efforts. Let the ocean slap at our doors and the moon pull at the nails that hold the plywood on the windows. Let politicians' promises echo in the hollow halls of morning.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 1, 2009 18:02:33 GMT
Six humans trapped by happenstance In dark and bitter cold Each one possessed a stick of wood Or so the story's told
Their dying fire in need of logs The first woman held hers back. For of the faces around the flame She noticed one was black
The second man looking all about Saw no one of his church And couldn't bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch
The rich man sat and thought Of all the wealth he had in store Why should his stick be used to warm The lazy, shiftless poor?
The poor man sat in tattered clothes He gave his coat a hitch No way would he let his stick be used By the greedy selfish rich
The black man bitter and full of rage Held his oak branch tight For all he saw in his stick of wood Was a chance to spite the white
The last man of this forlorn group Did nothing except for gain Giving only to those who gave Was how he played the game
The branches held in fate's cruel hands Was proof of human sin They didn't die from the cold without The died from THE COLD WITHIN.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 2, 2009 12:13:39 GMT
I am writing to say how much I care for you and to say how much I want you to know me better.
When you awoke this morning, I exploded a brilliant sunrise through your window, hoping to get your attention, but you rushed off without even noticing.
Later, I noticed you were walking with some friends, so I bathed you in warm sunshine and perfumed the air with nature's sweet scent, and still you didn't notice me.
As you passed by, I shouted to you in a thunderstorm and painted a beautiful rainbow in the sky, and you didn't even look.
In the evening, I spilled moonlight onto your face and sent a cool breeze to rest you.
As you slept, I watched over you and shared your thoughts, but you were unaware that I was so near.
I have chosen you and hope you will talk to me soon. Until then, I remain near. I am your friend and love you very much.
~Your Friend, Jesus~
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 3, 2009 9:17:00 GMT
High above the smoldering ash, the morning Dove looks on. The carnage of a battle field in the early light of dawn.
The battle of the earlier day, raged long into the night. While signs of armies once engaged, now hidden out of sight.
It was a battle both would claim, was waged for what was right. It was a fight that both would say, was fought with righteous might.
This was a war of differences, in values and of men. Both sides said they're way was right and neither one would bend.
Still the Morning Dove was heard to cry above the reddened plains. "How different can these brothers be, when their blood stains all the same?"
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 4, 2009 10:25:01 GMT
Stargazing
One summer night, out on a flat headland all but surrounded by the waters of the bay, the horizons were remote and distant rims on the edge of space. Millions of stars blazed in darkness, and on the far shore a few lights burned in cottages; otherwise, there was no reminder of human life. My companion and I were alone with the stars; the misty river of the Milky Way flowing across the sky, the patterns of the constellations standing out bright and clear, a blazing planet low on the horizon.
It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century, this little headland would be thronged with spectators. But it can be seen many scores of nights in any year, and so the inhabitants probably gave not a thought to the beauty overhead. And because they could see it almost any night, perhaps they never will.
|
|
|
Post by banger on May 4, 2009 19:33:11 GMT
Where
There was a little boy, On the week's first day, Coming home from Sunday School And wandering on the way. He scuffed his shoes into the grass And found a caterpillar. He found a fluffy milkweed pod And blew out all the filler.
A bird's nest in a tree above, So wisely placed on high, Was just another wonder That caught his eager eye.
A neighbor watched his crooked course And hailed him from the lawn. He asked him where he'd been that day And what was going on.
"I've been to Sunday School," he said As he turned a piece of sod, And picking up a worm, he smiled, "I've learned a lot from God!"
"That's a fine way," the neighbor said, "For a boy to spend his time. "Now if you can tell me where God is, I'll give you a brand new dime."
Quick as a flash the answer came, The boy said without complaint, "I'll give you a dollar, Mister, If you can tell me where God ain't!"
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 5, 2009 9:21:23 GMT
I took a walk down a woodland trail, without really expecting anything new. A rustling in the leaves made me pause, and wonder what was hidden from view. I kneeled down and spotted a tiny, white flower, so perfectly formed to bloom for just an hour. Thank you, Lord, for showing it to me alone, such a secret I would never have known.
God sends jewels from heaven, when I stop long enough to see. Rare and precious treasures, to show how much He loves me.
Once, I ran to the edge of some trees, with a heavy burden in my heart. The scent of a warm, summer rain, wafted by on a gentle breeze. A brilliant, red cardinal came to call, and sang a cheerful song just for me; and to think, I could have missed it all.
God send jewels from heaven, when I stop long enough to see. Rare and precious treasures, to show how much He loves me.
I stepped outside late one night, for just a moment of peace and quiet. The wind softly whispered to me. The black, velvet sky held a crescent moon, and a million silver stars gave their light. I threw up my hands and praised you, Lord, for this glimpse of beauty I might have ignored.
God send jewels from heaven, when I stop long enough to see. Rare and precious treasures, to show how much He loves me.
|
|
|
Post by Nofinepix on May 6, 2009 6:40:49 GMT
A bargain is something you don't need at a price you can't resist.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 6, 2009 8:33:57 GMT
The hardness of the butter is proportional to the softness of the bread.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 6, 2009 9:18:53 GMT
While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground. "That's my son over there," she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding down the slide.
"He's a fine looking boy," the man said. "That's my son on the swing in the blue sweater." Then, looking at his watch, he called to his son. "What do you say we go, Todd?"
Todd pleaded, "Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes." The man nodded and Todd continued to swing to his heart's content.
Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his son. "Time to go now?"
Again Todd pleaded, "Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes." The man smiled and said, "Okay."
"My, you certainly are a patient father," the woman responded.
The man smiled and then said, "My older son Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I'd give anything for just five more minutes with him. I've vowed not to make the same mistake with Todd.
"He thinks he has five more minutes to swing. The truth is . . . I get five more minutes to watch him play."
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 7, 2009 9:02:54 GMT
The baby is teething, the children are fighting, and my husband just called and said to eat dinner without him. Okay, one of these days you’ll shout, "Why don’t you grow up and act your age?"
. . . and they will.
Or, "You guys get outside and find yourself something to do and don’t slam the door."
. . . and they won’t.
You’ll straighten up their bedrooms all neat and tidy with bumper stickers discarded, bed-spread tucked and smoothed, toys all displayed on the shelves, hangers in the closets, animals caged, and you’ll say out loud, "Now I want you to stay this way!"
. . . and they will.
Then you’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn’t been picked to death, a cake with no finger traces through the frosting, and you’ll say, "Now there’s a meal for company."
. . . but you’ll eat it alone.
And you’ll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone! No dancing around, no pantomimes, no demolition crews! Silence! Do you hear me?"
. . . and you’ll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti, no more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent, no more dandelion bouquets, no more iron-on patches, no more wet-knotted shoe strings, no more tight boots, or rubber bands on pony tails.
Now, imagine your lipstick with a point. No baby sitter on New Year’s Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. No PTA meetings, no car pools, no blaring radios, having your own roll of tape, no more Christmas presents made out of toothpicks and paste, no more wet-oatmeal kisses, no tooth fairy, no giggles in the dark, no knees to Band-aid.
Only a memory of a voice crying, "Why don’t you grow up?"
And in the silence will come the echo, "I did."
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 8, 2009 11:35:18 GMT
Little Chad was a shy, quiet young fellow. One day, he came home and told his mother that he would like to make a valentine for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, "I wish he wouldn't do that!" because she had watched the children when they walked home from school. Her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other
But Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided she would go along with her son. So she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three whole weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made thirty-five valentines.
Valentine's Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement! He carefully stacked them up, put them in a bag and bolted out the door. His mom decided to bake him his favorite cookies and serve them up warm and nice with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed. Maybe that would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think that he wouldn't get many valentines... maybe none at all.
That afternoon, she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, here they came, laughing and having the best time.
And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual.
She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed, and when the door opened, she choked back tears.
"Mommy has some warm cookies and milk for you." But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he could say was :
"Not a one. Not a one." Her heart sank. And then he added, "I didn't forget a one, not a single one!"
|
|
|
Post by banger on May 8, 2009 12:29:55 GMT
In spite of the cost of living, it's still popular. ~Kathy Norris
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else. ~Emily Dickinson
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 9, 2009 9:57:13 GMT
A Child Learns
If a child lives with criticism, he learns to condemn. If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight. If a child lives with ridicule, he learns to be shy. If a child lives with shame, he learns to feel guilty. If a child lives with tolerance, he learns to be patient. If a child lives with encouragement, he learns confidence. If a child lives with praise, he learns to appreciate. If a child lives with fairness, he learns justice. If a child lives with security, he learns to have faith. If a child lives with approval, he learns to like himself. If a child lives with acceptance, and friendship, he learns to find love in the world.
|
|
|
Post by banger on May 10, 2009 8:13:48 GMT
Teenagers and Cats For all of you with teenagers or who had teenagers, you may want to know why they really have a lot in common with cats:
Neither teenagers nor cats turn their heads when you call them by name.
No matter what you do for them, it is not enough. Indeed, all humane efforts are barely adequate to compensate for the privilege of waiting on them hand and foot.
You rarely see a cat walking outside of the house with an adult human being, and it can be safely said that no teenager in his or her right mind wants to be seen in public with his or her parents.
Even if you tell jokes as well as Jay Leno, neither your cat nor you teen will ever crack a smile.
No cat or teenager shares your taste in music.
Cats and teenagers can lie on the living-room sofa for hours on end without moving, barely breathing.
Cats have nine lives. Teenagers carry on as if they did.
Cats and teenagers yawn in exactly the same manner, communicating that ultimate human ecstasy -- a sense of complete and utter boredom.
Cats and teenagers do not improve anyone's furniture.
Cats that are free to roam outside sometimes have been known to return in the middle of the night to deposit a dead animal in your bedroom. Teenagers are not above that sort of behavior. Thus, if you must raise teenagers, the best sources of advice are not other parents, but veterinarians. It is also a good idea to keep a guidebook on cats at hand at all times. And remember, above all else, put out the food and do not make any sudden moves in their direction.
When they make up their minds, they will finally come to you for some affection and comfort, and it will be a triumphant moment for all concerned.
|
|
|
Post by banger on May 10, 2009 8:24:50 GMT
These I thought were true today (In full later)
I contend that for a nation to try to tax itself into prosperity is like a man standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle. -- Winston Churchill
A government which robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul. -- George Bernard Shaw
A liberal is someone who feels a great debt to his fellow man, which debt he proposes to pay off with your money. -- G. Gordon Liddy
Democracy must be something more than two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner. -- James Bovard
Foreign aid might be defined as a transfer of money from poor people in rich countries to rich people in poor countries. -- Douglas Casey
Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys. -- P.J. O'Rourke
Government is the great fiction, through which everybody endeavors to live at the expense of everybody else. -- Frederic Bastiat
Government's view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases: If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it. -- Ronald Reagan
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 10, 2009 9:44:23 GMT
Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born.
So one day he asked God: They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?
Among the many angels out there, I chose a special one just for you. She will be waiting for you and will take care of you.
But tell me, here in heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile, that's enough for me to be happy.
Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day, and you will feel your angel's love and that will make you happy.
And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if I don't know the language that men talk?
Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.
And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?
Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray.
I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?
Your angel will defend you even if it means risking her life.
But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore.
Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you.
At the moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly: Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel's name.
Your angel's name is of no importance, you will call your angel:
Mummy.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 11, 2009 7:58:14 GMT
A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin, 5, Ryan, 3. The boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake. Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson. "If Jesus were sitting here, He would say 'Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.' Kevin turned to his younger brother and said, "Ryan, you be Jesus!"
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 12, 2009 8:38:52 GMT
Children's Letters to God
Dear GOD, Instead of letting people die and having to make new ones, why don't you just keep the ones you have? -Jane
Dear GOD, Maybe Cain and Abel would not kill each other so much if they had their own rooms. It works with my brother. -Larry
Dear GOD, If You watch me in church on Sunday, I'll show you my new shoes. -Mickey
Dear GOD, I bet it is very hard for you to love all of everybody in the whole world. There are only 4 people in our family and I can never do it. -Nan
Dear GOD, In school they told us what you do. Who does it when you are on vacation? -Jane
Dear GOD, I read the Bible. What does "beget" mean? Nobody will tell me. -Love, Alison
Dear GOD, Are you really invisible or is it just a trick? -Lucy
Dear GOD, Is it true my father won't get in Heaven if he uses his bowling words in the house? -Anita
Dear GOD, Did You mean for the giraffe to look like that or was it an accident? -Norma
Dear GOD, Who draws the lines around the countries? -Nan
Dear GOD, I went to this wedding and they kissed right in church. Is that okay? -Neil
Dear GOD, What does it mean you are a Jealous God? I thought you had everything. -Jane
Dear GOD, Did you really mean "do unto others as they do unto you"? Because if you did, then I'm going to fix my brother. -Darla
Dear GOD, Thank you for the baby brother, but what I prayed for was a puppy. -Joyce
Dear GOD, It rained for our whole vacation and is my father mad! He said some things about you that people are not supposed to say, but I hope you will not hurt him anyway. Your friend, (But I am not going to tell you who I am).
Dear GOD, Why is Sunday school on Sunday? I thought it was supposed to be our day of rest. -Tom L.
Dear GOD, Please send me a pony. I never asked for anything before. You can look it up. -Bruce
Dear GOD, If we come back as something - please don't let me be Mary Horton because I hate her. -Denise
Dear GOD, If you give me a genie like Aladdin, I will give you anything you want, except my money or my chess set. -Raphael
Dear GOD, You don't have to worry about me. I always look both ways. -Dean
Dear GOD, I think the stapler is one of your greatest inventions. -Ruth M.
Dear GOD, I think about you sometimes even when I'm not praying. -Elliott
Dear GOD, Of all the people who work for you I like Noah and David the best. -Rob
Dear GOD, My brother told me about being born but it doesn't sound right. They're just kidding, aren't they? -Marsha
Dear GOD, I would like to live 900 years like the guy in the Bible. -Love, Chris
Dear GOD, We read Thomas Edison made light. But in Sunday school they said you did it. So I bet he stole your idea. -Sincerely, Donna
Dear GOD, The bad people laughed at Noah - "You made an ark on dry land you fool." But he was smart, he stuck with you. That's what I would do. -Eddie
Dear GOD, I do not think anybody could be a better GOD. Well, I just want you to know but I am not just saying that because you are GOD already. -Charles
Dear GOD, I didn't think orange went with purple until I saw the sunset you made on Tuesday. That was cool. -Eugene
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 13, 2009 8:28:18 GMT
I ran into a stranger as he passed by. "Oh, excuse me please" was my reply. He said, "Please excuse me too; I wasn't even watching for you." We were very polite, this stranger and I. We went on our way and we said good-bye. But at home a different story is told, How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal, My daughter stood beside me very still. When I turned, I nearly knocked her down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown. She walked away, her little heart broken. I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed, God's still small voice came to me and said, "While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, But the children you love, you seem to abuse. Look on the kitchen floor, You'll find some flowers there by the door. Those are the flowers she brought for you. She picked them herself, pink, yellow and blue. She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise, And you never saw the tears in her eyes."
By this time, I felt very small And now my tears began to fall. I quietly went and knelt by her bed; "Wake up, little girl, wake up," I said. "Are these the flowers you picked for me?" She smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree. I picked 'em because they're pretty like you. I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Daughter, I'm sorry for the way I acted today; I shouldn't have yelled at you that way." She said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway." I said, "Daughter, I love you too, and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."
Are you aware that: If we die tomorrow, the company that we are working for could easily replace us in a matter of days. But the family we left behind will feel the loss for the rest of their lives. And come to think of it, we pour ourselves more into work than to our family - an unwise investment indeed.
|
|
|
Post by Kimmy on May 14, 2009 8:47:59 GMT
We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."
"We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.
That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.
She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years -- not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a Mother.
|
|