His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whose ever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
(Shel Silverstein)

Think of a time when an idea came to you
that was so vivid and pure
and was so true for you
rolls of shivers started
in one part of your body and
then inundated every cell of your being.
You may call that
Angel touches or
Love rushes.
That was Us.
Think of a time when you awakened at night
with a thought so clear
you knew it answered your every question.
That was Us.
Think of a time when you were so still
you could hear music and knew
it was the "music of the spheres."
That was Us.
Think of a time when you loved so totally
you could not express it
for there were no words invented
to translate the feeling.
That was Us.
Think of a time when the earth,
and God,
and You were so aligned
that you knew it was your truth
in all its glory.
That was Us.
Think of peace so deep
you could not reach the bottom of it.
That was Us.
Think of a time you were so connected with love
and light
you said you were filled with God
or the Holy Spirit.
You were.
But it was also Us.
We are not hard to find.
We are there in the stillness.
We are there in the waiting.
We are there in the knowing.
Just BE.
We are there.

Silently the green leaves grow
In silence falls the soft, white snow
Silently the flowers bloom
In silence sunshine fills a room
Silently bright stars appear
In silence velvet night draws near...
And silently God enters in
To free troubled heart from sin
For God works silently in lives
For nothing spiritual survives
Amid the din of a noisy street
Where raucous crowds with hurrying feet
And "blinded eyes" and "deafened ear"
Are never privileged to hear
The message God wants to impart
To every troubled, weary heart
For only in a quiet place
Can man behold God face-to-face!
(Helen Steiner Rice)

The silent stars in timeless skies
The wonderment in children's eyes,
The autumn haze, the breath of spring,
The chirping song the crickets sing,
A rosebud in a slender vase
Are all reflections of God's face.
(Helen Steiner Rice)

The Master had a garden
Filled with flowers everywhere
Each day he'd water, feed and prune--
He'd tend each rose with care

And as he'd walk by each flower
His face shone with delight
His eyes would glow, his heart would sing
They were a lovely sight.

But back in one dark corner
A lonely rosebud stood
The water couldn't reach it
It was weak from want of food.

The rays of sunlight never touched it's face
It's warmth it could not feel
And soon the lack took its toll
And the rosebud could not heal.

It slowly began to wither
It's color began to wane
This rosebud would never blossom
Destined to die in lonely pain.

One day the master was strolling
Through his garden grand and bright
When he noticed in the corner
A small pathetic sight.

The single, withered rosebud
Its head bowed low in shame
For it had brought no pleasure
And felt it was to blame.

But the master with his loving hands
Began to tend the rose
He watered, fed and pruned it
And spoke in sweet repose.
He cleared a path for sunlight
So its warmth the rose would feel
And around the small and weakened stem
Was placed the master's seal.

The rose began to bud again
It's flower rich and lush
And soon the single rosebud
Became a glorious bush.

The master made a special place
And put the rosebush there
Its blossoms glistened with beauty
Its fragrance filled the air.

And each day as the master
Would relish in its rebirth
The rosebush bowed in loving gratitude
For the master gave it worth.
(by Annie Nelson (at age 14)
© Copyright: Annie Nelson: 1965-1998:
All rights reserved
Used with permission)

I have watched you grow up over the years,
And shared in the learning,
the joys and the tears.
I've seen you become the person
who you are today,
A child of mine,
and so very special to me,
in every way.

Through the years
you have brought my heart many smiles,
And even through any hard times,
you made it all worthwhile.
I will always be here for you,
always right by your side,
Whether it be just to listen to you,
or to be your guide.

I can't lead your life for you,
and protect you from all harms,
But my love will be embracing you,
as if you were in my arms.
Above all else,
your happiness is so very important to me,
And when I see your smiling face,
it fills my heart so lovingly.

I gave you the gift of life,
and in return I've received love,
You a true blessing
given to me from the Lord above.
For the love between a mother and a child
is like no other,
And I am so proud that I am able to say,
I am YOUR mother.
(©Pamela Hall,~Angel of the Heart~)

He Is Just a Little Boy
He stands at the plate
with his heart pounding fast.
The bases are loaded,
the die has been cast.
Mom and Dad cannot help him,
he stands all alone.
A hit at this moment,
would send the team home.
The ball meets the plate,
he swings and he misses.
There's a groan from the crowd,
with some boos and some hisses.
A thoughtless voice cries,
"Strike out the bum."
Tears fill his eyes,
the game's no longer fun.
So open your heart
and give him a break,
For it's moments like this,
a man you can make.
Please keep this in mind,
when you hear someone forget,
He is just a little boy,
and not a man yet.
(By Chaplain Bob Fox)

So Mom, until that glorious day
We walk hand in hand in Heaven I'll pray
That once again through God's loving grace
I'll feel your touch and see your face.
(Clara Cavin Kleinpeter
Written Feb. 1991)

I've never made a fortune,
and I'll never make one now.
But it really doesn't matter
'cause I'm happy anyhow.
As I go along my journey
I'm reaping better than I've sowed.
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.
I don't have a lot of riches,
And sometimes the going's tough
But with kin and friends to love me
I think I'm rich enough.
I thank God for the blessings
That His mercy has bestowed.
I'm drinking from the saucer
'Cause my cup has overflowed.
He gives me strength and courage
When the way grows steep and rough.
I'll not ask for other blessings for
I'm already blessed enough.
May we never be too busy
To help bear another's load.
Then we'll all be drinking from the saucer
When our cups have overflowed.
(Anonymous)

I want to be six again.
I want to go to McDonald's and think it's
the best place in the world to eat.

I want to sail sticks across
a fresh mud puddle
and make waves with rocks.

I want to think M&Ms are better
than money 'cause you can eat them.
I long for the days when life was simple.
When all you knew were your colors,
the addition tables,
and simple nursery rhymes,
but it didn't bother you
because you didn't know
what you didn't know,
and you didn't care.

I want to go to school
and have snack time,
recess, gym, and field trips.
I want to be happy because
I don't know what should make me upset.

I want to think the world is fair,
and everyone in it is honest and good.
I want to believe
that anything is possible.

Sometime, while I was maturing,
I learned too much.
I learned of nuclear weapons,
starving and abused kids,
and unhappy marriages.
I want to be six again.

I want to think that everyone,
including myself, will live forever
because I don't know the concept of death.
I want to be oblivious
to the complexity of life,
and be overly excited
by the little things again.

I want television to be something
I watch for fun,
not something I use for escape
from the things I should be doing.

I want to live knowing the little things
I find exciting will always make me as happy
as when I first learned them.
I want to be six again.

I remember not seeing the world as a whole,
but rather being aware of only the things
that directly concerned me.

I want to be naive enough to think
that if I'm happy, so is everyone else.
I want to walk down the beach and think
only of the sand beneath my feet,
and the possibility of finding
that blue piece of sea glass I'm looking for.

I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees
and riding my bike,
letting the grownups worry
about time, the dentist,
and how to find the money to fix the car.

I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up,
not worry what I'll do
if this doesn't work out.

I want that time back.
I want to use it now as an escape,
so that when my computer crashes,
or I have a mountain of paperwork,
or two hurting friends,
or second thoughts about so many things,
I can travel back and build a snowman
without thinking about anything
except whether the snow sticks together
and what I can possibly use
for the snowman's mouth.

I want to be six again.
(From The Art(hritis) Link Letter)

"I'll lend you, for a little while,
a child of mine,"He said
"For you to love while he lives
and mourn when he is dead.
It may be six or seven
years, or twenty-two or three, but will you
till I call him back,
take care of him for me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you
and shall his stay be brief,
you'll have his lovely memories
as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay,
as all from earth return
but there are lessons taught down there
that I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over
in my search for teachers true,
and from the throngs that crown life's lanes,
I have selected YOU.
Now will you give him all your love
-not think the labor vain
nor hate me when I come to call
to take him back again."
I fancied that I heard them say
"Dear Lord, Thy will be done.
For all the joys thy child will bring
The risk of grief we'll run.
We will shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may---
And for the happiness we've known
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for him
Much sooner than we've planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes
And try to understand."
Written By: Edgar A. Guest
(from "All In a Lifetime"--Copyright, 1938)