Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Twinkies and Root Beer ~ Author Unknown ~


A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to
 where God lived,  so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a
 six-pack of Root Beer and he started his journey.

When he had gone about three blocks, he met an elderly man.
 The man was sitting in the park just feeding some pigeons. 
The boy sat down next to him and opened his suitcase.
He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he
noticed that the man looked hungry, so he offered him a Twinkie.

The man gratefully accepted it and smiled at boy.
His smile was so pleasant that the boy wanted to
 see it again, so he offered him a root beer.
Again, the man smiled at him. The boy was delighted!
They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling,
but they never said a word.
As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he
 got  up to leave, but before he had gone more than a few steps,
 he turned around, ran back to the man, and gave him a hug.
The man gave him his biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time
later,  his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face.
She asked him, "What did you do today that made you so happy?
"He replied, "I had lunch with God."
But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what?
God's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the elderly man, also radiant with joy, returned to his home.
His son was stunned by the look of peace on his face and he asked,"
Dad, what did you do today that made you so happy?"
He replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with God."
However, before his son responded, he added,"
You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile,
a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the
smallest  act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. 
Embrace all equally!

~author unknown~

I hope you will share this story with those who have touched your life in a special way.
Let them know how important they are. 

Have lunch with God!

And... thank you for touching my life.


Beloved, let us once more praise the rain.
Let us discover some new alphabet,
For this, the often praised; and be ourselves,
The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf,
The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone,
And all that welcomes the rain; the sparrow too,—
Who watches with a hard eye from seclusion,
Beneath the elm-tree bough, till rain is done.
There is an oriole who, upside down,
Hangs at his nest, and flicks an orange wing,—
Under a tree as dead and still as lead;
There is a single leaf, in all this heaven
Of leaves, which rain has loosened from its twig:
The stem breaks, and it falls, but it is caught
Upon a sister leaf, and thus she hangs;
There is an acorn cup, beside a mushroom
Which catches three drops from the stooping cloud.
The timid bee goes back to the hive; the fly
Under the broad leaf of the hollyhock
Perpends stupid with cold; the raindark snail
Surveys the wet world from a watery stone...
And still the syllables of water whisper:
The wheel of cloud whirs slowly: while we wait
In the dark room; and in your heart I find
One silver raindrop,—on a hawthorn leaf,—
Orion in a cobweb, and the World.

YOU ARE THE WHISPER - Mary G. Delaware

You are the whisper of
                          a soft breeze
As I lay down to rest;
You are the heart beat that
Lies within my chest.

 (810x510, 109Kb)

You are the smile
That creeps upon my lips
When I dwell upon
Our very first kiss.

You are the brightness
That sparkles in my eyes;
You are the answer to my
When I wonder why.

I have this crazy feeling
That you are always near;
And when I turn around,
It's your voice that I will hear.

Monday, August 29, 2011

YOU'RE NOT MINE - by Doina Bădescu

images de femmes

You’re not mine,
yet sometimes my thoughts intertwine
with yours, as we engage in conversation.
This situation feels right, and though I have
not crossed the threshold into wrong,
I hesitate to clarify your position in my soul.
You’re not mine…and I know that.
But there’s this need to look  at your picture
and lose myself in thoughts about you
and in my world...
I see no one but you.

You’re not mine, yet deep down I wish you were,
and maybe that is ill-timed in itself.

Your happiness appears missing or simply
misplaced, yet, coincidentally, it means the most to me.

You place me in a state of mystery, like gifts
given at Christmas time, and it's January in my mind.
But I remember...I remember...

You’re not mine,

and what is just as hurting, is recognizing
You are caring... I can feel from your words...

You are loving...I can feel from your questions...

You are a balanced scale of joy and strength,
for one never outweighs the other in your presence.

Yet, still, you are not mine...

Sunday, August 28, 2011



A well known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20 bill. In the room of 200, he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill?"

Hands started going up.

He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the dollar bill up.
He then asked, "Who still wants it?"

Still the hands were up in the air.

"Well," he replied, "What if I do this?" And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe.

He picked it up, now all crumpled and dirty. "Now who still wants it?" Still the hands went into the air.
"My friends, you have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way.

We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value.

You are special - Don't ever forget it!


DAISY - by Francis Thompson

Where the thistle lifts a purple crown
Six foot out of the turf,
And the harebell shakes on
                                     the windy hill
O breath of the distant surf !


The hills look over on the South,
And southward dreams the sea;
And with the sea-breeze hand in hand
Came innocence and she.


Where 'mid the gorse the raspberry
Red for the gatherer springs;
Two children did we stray and talk
Wise, idle, childish things.


She listened with big-lipped surprise,
Breast-deep 'mid flower and spine:
Her skin was like a grape whose veins
Run snow instead of wine.


She knew not those sweet words
                                        she spake,
Nor knew her own sweet way;
But there's never a bird, so sweet
                                         a song
Thronged in whose throat all day.


Oh, there were flowers in Storrington
On the turf and on the spray;
But the sweetest flower on Sussex
Was the Daisy-flower that day!


Her beauty smoothed earth's
                               furrowed face.
She gave me tokens three:
A look, a word of her winsome mouth,
And a wild raspberry.


A berry red, a guileless look,
A still word,--strings of sand!
And yet they made my wild, wild heart
Fly down to her little hand.


For standing artless as the air,
And candid as the skies,
She took the berries with her hand,
And the love with her sweet eyes.


The fairest things have fleetest end,
Their scent survives their close:
But the rose's scent is bitterness
To him that loved the rose.


She looked a little wistfully,
Then went her sunshine way
The sea's eye had a mist on it,
And the leaves fell from the day.


She went her unremembering way,
She went and left in me
The pang of all he partings gone,
And partings yet to be.


She left me marvelling why my soul
Was sad that she was glad;
At all the sadness in the sweet,
The sweetness in the sad.


Still, still I seemed to see her, still
Look up with soft replies,
And take the berries with her hand,
And the love with her lovely eyes.


Nothing begins, and nothing ends,
That is not paid with moan,
For we are born in other's pain,
And perish in our own.


Saturday, August 27, 2011

TO MY BELOVED - By Dobhran


You are to me, so bright and fair
A friend so thoughtful, kind, so rare !

I ask you, ”Come ! To me with bliss ”
On rosy cheek, I place sweet kiss !

Up the mountain, on summit peak
I sing my joy, my love I speak

No finer one can make me whole
Than you, the lightener of my soul !

Hold me, Lover ! With pure delight
My darkness fades; your healing light !

On this, the day, oh true, divine
I am blessed you are mine, all mine !

I love you so much !

Friday, August 26, 2011

IF NOT FOR YOU - by Joanna Fuchs


If not for you, I wouldn’t know

What true love really meant.

I’d never feel this inner peace;

I couldn’t be content.

If not for you, I’d never have

The pleasures of romance.

I’d miss the bliss, the craziness,

Of love’s sweet, silly dance.

I have to feel your tender touch;

I have to hear your voice;

No other one could take your place;

You’re it; I have no choice.

If not for you, I’d be adrift;

I don’t know what I’d do;

I’d be searching for my other half,

Incomplete, if not for you.