Children Learn What They Live

If a child lives with critisism,

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 shame

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.

Heaven's Special Child

The Meeting

A meeting was held quite far from earth,

"It's time again for another birth"

Said the Angels to the Lord above,

"This special child will need much love.

His progress may seem slow,

Accomplishments he may not show,

And he'll require extra care,

From folks he meets way down there."

"He may not run, laugh orplay,

His thoughts may seem quite far away.

In many ways he won't adapt,

And he'll be known as handicapped"

"So let's be careful where he's sent,

We want his life to be content

Please Lord Find the parents who,

Will do this special job for you."

"They will not realize it right away,

The special role they're asked to play.

But with this child sent from above,

Comes a richer much stronger love."

"Soon they'll know the privilege given,

In caring for this gift from heaven,

Their precious gift meek and mild,

He is Heaven's Special Child"

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FLOWER

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read

Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,

For the world was intent on dragging me down

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,

A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down

And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,

With its petals all worn-not enough rain, or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,

I faked a small smile and then shifted away

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side

And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,

"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.

That's why I picked it; here; it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.

Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.

But I knew that I must take it, or he night never leave.

I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,

He held it mid-air without reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the very first time

That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun

As I thnked him for picking the very best one.

"You're welcome, " he smiled, and then ran off to play,

Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see

A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know of my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see

The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.

And for all of those times I myself had been blind

I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate every second that's mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose

And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose

And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his hand,

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Author unknown