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As I stumble through this life,
help me to create more laughter than tears.
Never let me become so indifferent,
that I will fail to see the wonder in the eyes of a
child.
Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer
people,
make them forget, at least momentarily,
the unpleasantness in their lives.
and in my final moment, may I hear You whisper:
"When you made My people smile, you made Me
smile."
~Author Unknown~
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WE ARE SEVEN
A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick
with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes
were fair, and very fair;—
Her beauty made me glad.
“Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may
you be?”
“ How many? Seven in all,” she said,
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they?
I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea;
Two of
us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard cottage I
Dwell near them with my mother.”
"You
say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven! I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this
may be?"
Then did the little maid reply:
“ Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie,
Beneath
the churchyard tree.”
“You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the churchyard
laid,
Then ye are only five.”
“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”
The little maid replied,
“
Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.”
“My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit-
I sit and sing to them.”
"And often after sunset,
sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.”
“The first
that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.”
“So
in the churchyard she was laid;
And when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we play'd,
My brother John
and I.”
“And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced
to go,
And he lies by her side.”
“How many are you, then, said I,
If they two are in Heaven?"
The
little maiden did reply,
“Oh, master, we are seven!”
“But they are dead-those two are dead,
Their
spirits are in Heaven!”
'Twas throwing words away, for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said,
“Nay, we are seven!”
- William Wordsworth
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A farmer had some puppies he
painted a sign
advertising the
pups and set about nailing it to a
post on the edge of his yard.
As he was driving the last nail
into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls.
He looked down in the eyes of a
little boy.
"Mister," he said, "I want to buy
one of your puppies."
"Well," said the farmer, as he
rubbed the sweat off the
back of his neck, "these puppies
come from fine parents and
cost a good deal of money."
The boy dropped his head for a
moment. Then reaching deep into
his pocket, he pulled out a handful
of change and held it up to the
farmer.
"I've got thirty-nine cents. Is
that enough to take a look?"
Sure,"said the farmer.
And with that he let out a whistle,
"Here, Dolly!" he called.
Out from the doghouse and down
the ramp ran Dolly
followed by four little balls of fur.
The little boy pressed his
face against the chain link fence.
His eyes danced with delight.
As the dogs made their way to the fence,
the little boy noticed something
else stirring inside the doghouse.
Slowly another little ball appeared;
this one noticeably smaller.
Down the ramp it slid.
Then in a somewhat awkward manner
the little pup began hobbling toward
the others, doing its best to catch up.
"I want that one," the little boy said,
pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and
said,
"Son, you don't want that puppy.
He will never be able to
run and play with you like these
other dogs would."
With that the little boy stepped
back from the fence, reached
down, and began rolling up one
leg of his trousers.
In doing so he revealed a steel
brace running down both sides of
his leg attaching itself to a
specially made shoe.
Looking back up at the farmer, he
said, "You see sir, I don't run too
well myself, and he will need someone who
understands."
The world is full of people who
need someone who understands.
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A child is like a butterfly, Some can fly higher than others.
But each one flies the best it can, Why compare one against the other?
Each one is different. Each one is special. Each one is beautiful.
A STRONG WOMAN VERSUS A
WOMAN OF STRENGTH
A strong woman works out every day
to keep her
body in shape... but a woman of
strength builds
relationships to keep her soul in
shape.
A strong woman isn't afraid of
anything ...but a woman
of strength shows courage in the
midst of her fear.
A strong woman won't let anyone
get the best of
her ... but a woman of strength gives
the best of her
to everyone.
A strong woman makes mistakes and
avoids the
same in the future... a woman of
strength realizes
life's mistakes can also be unexpected
blessings and
capitalizes on them.
A strong woman wears the look of
confidence on
her face... but a woman of strength
wears grace.
A strong woman has faith that she is
strong
enough for the journey...but a
woman of strength has
faith that it is in the journey that she
will become
strong.
"When we realize the unique significance of every
human spirit.....No
soul can be entrapped, no heart considered
hopeless, no limitations upon
one's life imposed. And a word such as
"handicap" ceases to have
meaning, and fails to exist in the hearts of men."
Author Linda Carlson
A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was,
the sort
of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...But the world may be
different
because I was important in the life of a child.
Little Angels
When God calls little children to dwell with Him above,
We mortals sometime question the wisdom of His love.
For no heartache compares with the death of one small child
Who does so much to make our world, seem wonderful and mild
Perhaps God tires of calling the aged to his fold,
So He picks a rosebud, before it can grow old.
God knows how much we need them, and so He takes but few
To make the land of Heaven more beautiful to view.
Believing this is difficult still somehow we must try,
The saddest word mankind knows will always be "Goodbye."
So when a little child departs, we who are left behind
Must realize God loves children, Angels are hard to find.
--Author Unknown
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LABOR OF MY HEART
I would have given anything to be the one to know the pain of bringing
you into this world but it couldn't be
Though I did not bring you here still I labored in my tears through the
long nights I prayed you would come to me
You are the labor of my heart Child, you are the labor of my heart with
all my strength I prayed till they laid you in my arms
Child, you are the labor of my heart
Blessed be the maker of bone of other bone He made flesh of my
desire and today I take you home
You are the labor of my heart Child, you are the labor of my heart With
all my strength I prayed till they laid you in my arms
Child, you are the labor of my heart Child, you are the labor of my heart
Steve and Annie Chapman
Sometimes when our child is sleeping
and the night is quiet and still
We begin to count our blessings
and account for all that we feel
We think of a time, not long ago
when we first came together
Then we think of today, and the wonderful bond
keeping us friends forever
So we wish for you, our child's first Mother
on this, a special day
All of life's great blessings
as we send our love your way.
Whose Child Is This?
"Whose child is this?" I asked one day
Seeing a little one out at play
"Mine", said the parent with a tender smile
"Mine to keep a little while
To bathe his hands and comb his hair
To tell him what he is to wear
To prepare him that he may always be good
And each day do the things he should"
"Whose child is this?" I asked again
As the door opened and someone came in
"Mine", said the teacher with the same tender smile
"Mine, to keep just for a little while
To teach him how to be gentle and kind
To train and direct his dear little mind
To help him live by every rule
And get the best he can from school"
"Whose child is this?" I ask once more
Just as the little one entered the door
"Ours" said the parent and the teacher as they smiled
And each took the hand of the little child
"Ours to love and train together
Ours this blessed task forever."
--- Author Unknown
We could learn a lot from crayons:
some are sharp, some are pretty,
some are dull, some have weird names,
and all are different colors....but
they all exist very nicely in the same box.
HEART PRINTS
Whatever our hands touch-
We leave fingerprints!
On walls, on furniture
On doorknobs, dishes, books.
There's no escape.
As we touch we leave our identity.
Oh God, wherever I go today
Help me leave heartprints!
Heartprints of compassion
Of understanding and love.
Heartprints of kindness
And genuine concern.
May my heart touch a lonely neighbor
Or a runaway daughter
Or an anxious mother
Or perhaps an aged grandfather.
Lord, send me out today
To leave heartprints.
And if someone should say,
"I felt your touch,"
May that one sense YOUR LOVE
Touching through ME.
-- Author Unknown
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