A flower of GOD's design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.
The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
When in my hands they fade and die.
If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of GOD's design,
Then how can I think I have wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?
So I'll trust in Him for His leading
Each moment of every day.
I will look to him for His guidance
Each step of the pilgrim way.
The pathway that lies before me,
Only my Heavenly Father knows.
I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose.
Author is unknown
(I found this on Legacy of Hope
Please stop by their site for more wonderful poems and
support for Cancer)
http://www.legacyofhope.org/
LORD, PROP US UP
Every time I am asked to pray, I think of the old deacon who always prayed,
Lord, prop us up on our leanin side.
After hearing him pray that prayer many times, someone asked him why he prayed that prayer so fervently.
He answered, "Well sir, you see, it's like this....I got an old barn out back. It's been there a long time, it's withstood a lot of weather, it's gone through a lot of storms, and it's stood for many years. It's still
Standing, but one day I noticed it was leaning to one side a bit. So I went and got some pine poles and propped it up on its leaning side so it wouldn't fall.
Then I got to thinking about that and how much I was like that old barn. I been around a long time, I've withstood a lot of life's storms, I've
Withstood a lot of bad weather in life, I've withstood a lot of hard times,
And I'm still standing too. But I find myself leaning to one side from time to time, so I like to ask the Lord to prop us up on our leaning side, cause
I figure a lot of us get to leaning, at times."
Sometime we get to leaning toward anger, leaning toward bitterness, leaning toward hatred, leaning toward cussing, leaning toward a lot of things that
We shouldn't, so we need to pray, "Lord, prop us up on our leaning side," so we will stand straight and tall again, to glorify the Lord.
-- Author Unknown
Every time I am asked to pray, I think of the old deacon who always prayed,
Lord, prop us up on our leanin side.
After hearing him pray that prayer many times, someone asked him why he prayed that prayer so fervently.
He answered, "Well sir, you see, it's like this....I got an old barn out back. It's been there a long time, it's withstood a lot of weather, it's gone through a lot of storms, and it's stood for many years. It's still
Standing, but one day I noticed it was leaning to one side a bit. So I went and got some pine poles and propped it up on its leaning side so it wouldn't fall.
Then I got to thinking about that and how much I was like that old barn. I been around a long time, I've withstood a lot of life's storms, I've
Withstood a lot of bad weather in life, I've withstood a lot of hard times,
And I'm still standing too. But I find myself leaning to one side from time to time, so I like to ask the Lord to prop us up on our leaning side, cause
I figure a lot of us get to leaning, at times."
Sometime we get to leaning toward anger, leaning toward bitterness, leaning toward hatred, leaning toward cussing, leaning toward a lot of things that
We shouldn't, so we need to pray, "Lord, prop us up on our leaning side," so we will stand straight and tall again, to glorify the Lord.
-- Author Unknown
What a beautiful day. The birds are chirping.
I can hear the music of the water flowing in the brook.
A gentle breeze is blowing,
there is a delicate fragrance from flowers within the breeze.
Oh, what a day to enjoy all that God has given us.
By Mary Lynn321
I can hear the music of the water flowing in the brook.
A gentle breeze is blowing,
there is a delicate fragrance from flowers within the breeze.
Oh, what a day to enjoy all that God has given us.
By Mary Lynn321
Legend of the Daffodil
or
Lenten Lily
Little trumpet, golden hue,
Leaves upraised in praise unto ...
Christ, who died on Calvary's tree;
Sacrificed himself for me.
Legends say that, throughout lent,
Whispers heavenward are sent ...
Of good deeds done, prayers, sacrifice,
Acts of kindness; all things nice.
Guardian angels, on hearing this,
Pluck golden stars and, with a kiss ...
Blow them down to earth below,
Where they bloom there in a row.
Little 'star shaped' trumpet flower
First appeared in sorrow's hour.
In Gethsemane they grew
To comfort Christ, our Savior, who ...
Wept alone and prayed that night
As He faced His sorrowful plight.
A sign of hope and new birth,
Their tender blossoms kissed the earth.
With star shaped centers, leaves upraised,
Tis' Easter's symbol; nature's praise.
Daffodils, born during lent,
Are Lenten Lilies; heaven sent.
Their leaves upturned in praise unto
Christ, who gave Himself for you.
© 2007 either by Dot McGinnis or Joyce C. Lock
I have not been able to confirm which one.
Joyce C. Lock started the group "Heavenly Inspirations"
Dot is a "Heavenly Inspirations" Author
Check Out our "Heavenly Inspirations" Archive
HeavenlyInspirations-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
"A Friend....
(A)ccepts you as you are
(B)elieves in "you"
(C)alls you just to say "HI"
(D)oesn't give up on you
(E)nvisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts)
(F)orgives your mistakes
(G)ives unconditionally
(H)elps you
(I)nvites you over
(J)ust "be" with you
(K)eeps you close at heart
(L)oves you for who you are
(M)akes a difference in your life
(N)ever Judges
(O)ffer support
(P)icks you up
(Q)uiets your fears
(R)aises your spirits
(S)ays nice things about you
(T)ells you the truth when you need it
(U)nderstands you
(V)alues you
(W)alks beside you
(X)-plains thing you don't understand
(Y)ells when you won't listen and
(Z)aps you back to reality
author unknown
My Old Feather Pil
low
By Michael Willis
Chilly winters night
Ten years old
Sleepily crawling into bed
Like a weary turtle
Crossing a deserted highway
Bed cold and empty as a grave
I shovel the cotton covers over me
Laying my head on my old feather pillow
Cold and firm as a bag of crushed ice
From the corner Seven-Eleven
Me passing out
To it's smell of cheap sour wine
Single feather breaks out of its prison
Canvas of black and white zebra stripes
To gently kiss my resting cheek
Plucking it from its crowded womb
With my gentle blow it soars to freedom
Oh how I enjoy
Falling asleep every night
With my old feather pillow.
Ten years old
Sleepily crawling into bed
Like a weary turtle
Crossing a deserted highway
Bed cold and empty as a grave
I shovel the cotton covers over me
Laying my head on my old feather pillow
Cold and firm as a bag of crushed ice
From the corner Seven-Eleven
Me passing out
To it's smell of cheap sour wine
Single feather breaks out of its prison
Canvas of black and white zebra stripes
To gently kiss my resting cheek
Plucking it from its crowded womb
With my gentle blow it soars to freedom
Oh how I enjoy
Falling asleep every night
With my old feather pillow.
A Long Path Way
As I walk through the path of life,
I meet new people everyday.
Most are simply not the type.
That I can call true friends.
But somehow, I was lucky,
To find a friend like you.
When we first met, I thought:
This friendship will be true.
I now know who I can trust,
I know who I can call,
If for some unknown reason,
My life, was to fall.
You are my only true friend now,
As the others have let me down.
I feel as though, you are the only one,
Who I can share my pain.
As my life continues, through the years,
I realize that I need you more,
More than ever, you are needed,
To help me through the rest of my life.
As I walk through the path of life,
I meet new people everyday.
Most are simply not the type.
That I can call true friends.
But somehow, I was lucky,
To find a friend like you.
When we first met, I thought:
This friendship will be true.
I now know who I can trust,
I know who I can call,
If for some unknown reason,
My life, was to fall.
You are my only true friend now,
As the others have let me down.
I feel as though, you are the only one,
Who I can share my pain.
As my life continues, through the years,
I realize that I need you more,
More than ever, you are needed,
To help me through the rest of my life.
Love the moment. Flowers grow out of dark moments. Therefore, each moment is vital. It affects the whole. Life is a succession of such moments and to live each, is to succeed.
Remember your yesterdays, dream your tomorrows and live your todays.
bravenet.com