Heaven's Very Special Child

I hope this poem from Edna comforts the heart of every parent with a special child. A meeting was held quite far from earth; It was time for another birth. Said the angels to the Lord above, "This special child will need much love. His progress may seem very slow, Accomplishments he may not show. And he'll require extra care From the folks he'll meet down there. He may not run, or laugh or play--- 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 parents who will do A very special job for you. They will not realize right away The leading role they're asked to play; But with this child sent from above, Comes stronger faith, and richer love. And soon they'll know the privilege given In caring for this gift from heaven--- This precious charge, so meek and mild, Is Heaven's very special child.   © 1981 by Edna Massimilla

Poem Source: heavenawaits.com

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The World is Mine!

Today, upon the bus I saw A lovely girl with golden hair, I envied her, she seemed so gay, And I wished I were so fair. When suddenly she rose to leave, And I saw her hobble down the aisle, She had one leg, and wore a crutch, And as she passed, she gave a smile. Oh God, forgive me when I whine... I have two legs. The world is mine. And then I stopped to buy some sweets, The lad who sold them had such charm, I talk to him: he seemed so glad... If I were late 'twould do no harm, And as I left he said to me: "Thank you. You have been so kind. It's nice to talk to folks like you, You see," he said, "I'm blind". Oh God, forgive me when I whine... I have two eyes. The world is mine. Later, walking down the street, I saw a child with eyes of blue. He stood and watched the others play; It seemed he knew not what to do. I stopped a moment, then I said, "Why don't you join the others,dear?" He looked ahead without a word, And then I knew he could not hear. Oh God, forgive me when I whine... I have two ears. The world is mine. With legs to take me where I'd go, With eyes to see the sunset glow, Two ears to hear what I would know... Oh God, forgive me when I whine... I'm blessed indeed! The world is mine!!!

~ Author Unknown ~

Source: heavenawaits.com

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Train Of Life

Some folks ride the train of life Looking out the rear, Watching miles of life roll by, And marking every year. They sit in sad remembrance, Of wasted days gone by, And curse their life for what it was, And hang their head and cry. But I don't concern myself with that, I took a different vent, I look forward to what life holds, And not what has been spent. So strap me to the engine, As securely as I can be, I want to be out on the front, To see what I can see. I want to feel the winds of change, Blowing in my face, I want to see what life unfolds, As I move from place to place. I want to see what's coming up, Not looking at the past, Life's too short for yesterdays, It moves along too fast. So if the ride gets bumpy, While you are looking back, Go up front, and you may find, Your life has jumped the track. It's all right to remember, That's part of history, But up front's where it's happening, There's so much mystery. The enjoyment of living, Is not where we have been, It's looking ever forward, To another year and ten. It's searching all the byways, Never should you refrain, For if you want to live your life, You gotta drive the train. ~ author unknown ~

 

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The Cold Within - Poem

Something to rethink about in today's world -  Let's make 2021 a year to recall GOOD THINGS!!  ~ The Cold Within ~ Six humans trapped by happenstance In black and bitter cold Each 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 on the faces around the fire She noticed one was black. The next man looking 'cross the way Saw one not of his church And couldn't bring himself to give The fire his stick of birch. The third one sat in tattered clothes He gave his coat a hitch, Why should his log be put to use To warm the idle rich? The rich man just sat back and thought Of the wealth he had in store, And how to keep what he had earned From the lazy, shiftless poor. The black man's face bespoke revenge As the fire passed from his sight, For all he saw in his stick of wood Was a chance to spite the white. And the last man of this forlorn group Did naught except for gain, Giving only to those who gave Was how he played the game. The logs held tight in death's stilled hands Was proof of human sin, They didn't die from the cold without, They died from the cold within. © by James Patrick Kinney

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