This is the beginning of a new day
God has given me this day to use as I wish
I can waste it or use it for good
What I do today is important
because I'm exchanging a day of my life for it
When tomorrow comes
this day will be gone forever
leaving in its place
something I have traded for it
I want it to be a gain, not loss
good, not evil
success, not failure.
In order that I shall not regret
the price I have paid for it
Because the future
is just a whole string of now
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Blow out the Wishbone
Yesterday I gave Johnny his first wishbone. Holding one side of it, I said to him, "Make a wish, Johnny!" "Okay" he said. Then he took a deep breath, looked straight at the wishbone, and blew!
Do it any way you want, Johnny. Blow out the candles, blow out the stars, blow out the wishbone. Just wish. Let your wonderful mind burst with all the possibilities of being. Fasten your eyes on the ones that set you on fire. And then wish, with all your breath, with all your heart, with all your soul.
Wishers and dreamers are the people who bring the future. They are not content with the world as it is. A brighter, better vision pulses in their imagination and they will it into reality.
The wish comes first, and then the work. Without work, the wish will dry up like an unwatered flower. But without the wish, work will go on and on, as hard and bare as flowerless ground.
Do both, my dear. But if ever you find yourself full of work and dry of dreams, run - do not walk - to the nearest wishbone, think up a great one - and blow!
Do it any way you want, Johnny. Blow out the candles, blow out the stars, blow out the wishbone. Just wish. Let your wonderful mind burst with all the possibilities of being. Fasten your eyes on the ones that set you on fire. And then wish, with all your breath, with all your heart, with all your soul.
Wishers and dreamers are the people who bring the future. They are not content with the world as it is. A brighter, better vision pulses in their imagination and they will it into reality.
The wish comes first, and then the work. Without work, the wish will dry up like an unwatered flower. But without the wish, work will go on and on, as hard and bare as flowerless ground.
Do both, my dear. But if ever you find yourself full of work and dry of dreams, run - do not walk - to the nearest wishbone, think up a great one - and blow!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Empty Box
Even though it was only September, the air was crisp and children were already whispering about Christmas plans and Santa Claus. It made the already long months until Christmas seem even longer. With each passing day the children became more anxious, waiting for the final school bell. Upon its ringing everyone would run for coats, gloves and the classroom door, racing to see who would be the first one home; everyone except David.
David was a small boy with messy brown hair and tattered clothes. I had often wondered what kind of home life David had and often asked myself what kind of mother could send her son to school dressed so inappropriately for the cold winter months without coat, boots, or gloves. But something made David special. It wasn't his intelligence or manners for they were as lacking as his winter clothes, but I can never recall looking at David and not seeing a smile. He was always willing to help and not a day passed that David didn't stay after school to straighten chairs and clean erasers. We never talked much, he would just simply smile and ask what else he could do, then thank me for letting him stay and slowly head for home.
Weeks passed and the excitement over the coming Christmas grew into restlestness until the last day of school before the holiday break. I can't recall a more anxious group of children as that final bell rang and they scattered out the door. I smiled in relief as the last of them hurried out. Turning around I saw David quietly standing by my desk. "Aren't you anxious to get home David?" I asked. "No", he quietly replied. Ready to go home myself I said, "Well, I think the chairs and erasers will wait, why don't you hurry home. "I have something for you," he said and pulled from behind his back a small box wrapped in old paper and tied with string. Handing it to me he said anxiously, "Open it!" I took the box from him, thanked him and slowly unwrapped it. I lifted the lid and to my surprise saw nothing. I looked at David's smiling face and back into the empty box and said, "The box is nice David, "It's full of love. My mom told me before she died that love was something you couldn't see or touch unless you know it's there. . . can you see it?" Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the proud dirty face I had rarely given attention to. "Yes, David, I can see it," I replied, "Thank you."
David and I became good friends after that Christmas and I can say that with the passing years, I never again let the uncombed hair or dirty faces bother me, and I never forgot the meaning behind the little empty box that sat on my desk.
David was a small boy with messy brown hair and tattered clothes. I had often wondered what kind of home life David had and often asked myself what kind of mother could send her son to school dressed so inappropriately for the cold winter months without coat, boots, or gloves. But something made David special. It wasn't his intelligence or manners for they were as lacking as his winter clothes, but I can never recall looking at David and not seeing a smile. He was always willing to help and not a day passed that David didn't stay after school to straighten chairs and clean erasers. We never talked much, he would just simply smile and ask what else he could do, then thank me for letting him stay and slowly head for home.
Weeks passed and the excitement over the coming Christmas grew into restlestness until the last day of school before the holiday break. I can't recall a more anxious group of children as that final bell rang and they scattered out the door. I smiled in relief as the last of them hurried out. Turning around I saw David quietly standing by my desk. "Aren't you anxious to get home David?" I asked. "No", he quietly replied. Ready to go home myself I said, "Well, I think the chairs and erasers will wait, why don't you hurry home. "I have something for you," he said and pulled from behind his back a small box wrapped in old paper and tied with string. Handing it to me he said anxiously, "Open it!" I took the box from him, thanked him and slowly unwrapped it. I lifted the lid and to my surprise saw nothing. I looked at David's smiling face and back into the empty box and said, "The box is nice David, "It's full of love. My mom told me before she died that love was something you couldn't see or touch unless you know it's there. . . can you see it?" Tears filled my eyes as I looked at the proud dirty face I had rarely given attention to. "Yes, David, I can see it," I replied, "Thank you."
David and I became good friends after that Christmas and I can say that with the passing years, I never again let the uncombed hair or dirty faces bother me, and I never forgot the meaning behind the little empty box that sat on my desk.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Becoming Butterfly - Trina Paulus
One day a grey-haired caterpillar hanging upside down on a branch, surprised Yellow. He seemed caught in some hairy stuff. "You seem in trouble," she said. "Can I help?"
"No, my dear, I have to do this to become a butterfly."
Her whole insides leapt. "Butterfly - that word," she thought. "Tell me, sir, what is a butterfly?"
"It's what you are meant to become. It flies with beautiful wings and joins the earth to heaven. It drinks only the nectar from flowers and carries the seeds of love from one flower to another. Without butterflies the world would soon have few flowers."
"It can't be true!" gasped Yellow. "How can I believe there's a butterfly inside you or me when all I see is fuzzy worm? How does one become a butterfly?"
"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar."
"You mean to die?" asked Yellow, remembering the three who fell out of the sky.
"Yes and no," he answered. "What looks like you will die, but really you will still live. Life is changed, not taken away. Isn't that different from those who die without ever becoming butterflies?"
"And if I decide to become a butterfly," said Yellow hesitantly, "what do I do?"
"Watch me. I'm making a cocoon. It looks like I'm hiding but a cocoon is no escape. It's an in-between house where the change takes place. It's a big step since you can never return to caterpillar life. During the change, it will seem to you and to anyone who might peek that nothing is happening - but a butterfly is becoming."
"It just takes time."
From "Hope For Flowers" by Trina Paulus
"No, my dear, I have to do this to become a butterfly."
Her whole insides leapt. "Butterfly - that word," she thought. "Tell me, sir, what is a butterfly?"
"It's what you are meant to become. It flies with beautiful wings and joins the earth to heaven. It drinks only the nectar from flowers and carries the seeds of love from one flower to another. Without butterflies the world would soon have few flowers."
"It can't be true!" gasped Yellow. "How can I believe there's a butterfly inside you or me when all I see is fuzzy worm? How does one become a butterfly?"
"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar."
"You mean to die?" asked Yellow, remembering the three who fell out of the sky.
"Yes and no," he answered. "What looks like you will die, but really you will still live. Life is changed, not taken away. Isn't that different from those who die without ever becoming butterflies?"
"And if I decide to become a butterfly," said Yellow hesitantly, "what do I do?"
"Watch me. I'm making a cocoon. It looks like I'm hiding but a cocoon is no escape. It's an in-between house where the change takes place. It's a big step since you can never return to caterpillar life. During the change, it will seem to you and to anyone who might peek that nothing is happening - but a butterfly is becoming."
"It just takes time."
From "Hope For Flowers" by Trina Paulus
Monday, October 17, 2011
Blessed among men
Be more interested in people then in things.
Be unselfish, think wholesome thoughts,
keep a construtive attitude of soul and
your face will become a true reflection of your real self.
You will be a joy to behold to all whom you meet
and pass on your way.
You will be an inspiration and help to all
whose lives are intertwined with yours
in daily communion and daily association.
You will be in deed and in fact "blessed among men."
Be unselfish, think wholesome thoughts,
keep a construtive attitude of soul and
your face will become a true reflection of your real self.
You will be a joy to behold to all whom you meet
and pass on your way.
You will be an inspiration and help to all
whose lives are intertwined with yours
in daily communion and daily association.
You will be in deed and in fact "blessed among men."
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Blind man's lantern
An English writer tells of a blind man who always carried a lantern.
People would ask of what use the lantern could be to his sightless eyes.
"I do not carry it to prevent my stumbling over others, but to keep them from stumbling over me"
.... Let your light so shine that somebody else will not stumble because of you.
People would ask of what use the lantern could be to his sightless eyes.
"I do not carry it to prevent my stumbling over others, but to keep them from stumbling over me"
.... Let your light so shine that somebody else will not stumble because of you.
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