Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Ainda que os pais trabalhassem noite e dia, ensinassem todos os saberes e virtudes, mostrassem todos os caminhos, partilhassem toda sua história de vida e toda sua fé, se não tiverem a paciência, a sabedoria e o amor, nada deixariam a seus filhos.
Porque só o amor ensina, convence, amadurece, une, perdoa, cura, respeita, cria uma família.
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "World-Famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were World-Famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything.
She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted... "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second World-Famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.
"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's second grade class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; what he didn't have was a good coat.
I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible.) Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.
Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.
Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.
That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share. And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus.
Expect a Miracle!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
By Hope Saxton
Gram and Gramps lived on the other side of the country, and although we called and wrote often, it had been twenty years since I'd seen them in person. Their health was failing, and age kept them close to home. My responsibilities at home with a husband, two young children and a part-time job, kept me from visiting. I did make a point of going in March one year. I'd spoken to Gram and realized that, in their eighties now, they weren't going to be around forever - as much as I would like them to be. I made the arrangements and flew there for a week. The moment I walked in the door, I was home again. The memories from a childhood long past, immediately returned. The cookies baking in the warm oven, watching Gram ice the fairy-tale cake and letting me dig in the bowl of icing when she was done. The beautiful clothes she'd sewed, smocked dresses and shorts with pop-tops to match. As she often did in her letters, she told stories of what I was like as a little girl and how she'd given me Muriel as my middle name. I never told her how much I was teased as a child because of that name - suddenly, it was prettier somehow and its very uniqueness was so like Gram. Gramps talked of the two wars he lived through, and I told him how proud I was to know he'd served his country so well. He made me laugh, and I believe I made him feel young again, if only for awhile. In turn, he made me cry. He told me that he and Gram had given up on celebrating Christmas about ten years back. They were just too old. How can one let Christmas pass by unnoticed? I remembered best the Christmas as a child, when they lived with us. They loved the season and always went to midnight Mass. Gramps took my brothers, sisters and me to cut down the tree, while Gram baked every Christmas cookie imaginable, then decorated the tree just so. Our house had been filled with the love and togetherness I had always associated with Christmas. I couldn't believe they had stopped celebrating it. Gramps explained that they were too old to bother with a tree and their friends too old to travel to see it. Even shopping, now, was too difficult, and they had all of the necessities delivered. I wanted to cry for the joy they'd once had - and lost. That week remains one of the most joyous of my life. Knowing that it might be the last time I saw either of them saddened me, but I was determined to make it a happy visit. I took the two of them out to dinner - something they hadn't done in well over two years, since Gram had her hip surgery. I know they had a good time. Saying good-bye was difficult. Gramps, the brave, strong hero of mine, cried and Gram did her best not to. She never succeeded. I cried on the plane all the way home. As Christmas approached, I thought of them more than ever. I wanted to do something so they would know I was thinking of them. The idea came to give them back Christmas, and I set about to do just that. First, I found a small artificial tree and decorated it with miniature bulbs and fine gold ribbon. With this, I added colorfully wrapped presents for each of them; slippers, chocolates, a hand-knit scarf for Gramps and a pretty bed jacket for Gram. I made up a box of cookies and bars; many of the recipes were from Gram's cookbooks. Then I filled stockings for each of them with toiletries wrapped and tied with ribbons. In the card, I wrote that they had given me so many wonderful memories throughout the years that I wanted to give them some new ones. I asked both of them to promise to set the tree up in the living room and stack the gifts around it. My last instruction was, "Do not open 'til Christmas!" I mailed the parcel, barely able to contain my excitement. Gram called as soon as it arrived. She was crying and, this time, not even attempting to hide it. We spoke for a long time, reminiscing about Christmas past, and when I knew for certain they had the tree up, I promised to call Christmas morning. When my boys had opened every gift and were digging through their stockings, I made the long-awaited call. Gramps answered on the first ring. I thought he sounded strange, and we only spoke briefly, then Gram took the phone. "We were like two kids," she told me. "Neither of us got any sleep last night. I even caught Harry in the living room, shaking one of the packages and had to make him go back to bed. Honey, this is the first time in years we've been so excited. Don't tell your grandfather, but after he went to bed, I just had to rattle a few of the gifts myself." I laughed, imagining the two of them sneaking out to guess at the presents I'd sent. I wished there was more money to send more expensive gifts, and told Gram that maybe next year they would be better. "Your grandfather can't talk right now because he's too busy crying. He keeps saying, 'That's one heck of a granddaughter we have there, Muriel.'"
Monday, December 04, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Thanksgiving is a
time of gratitude to God,
our Creator and Provider,
whose guidance and care go before us...
and whose love
is with us forever.
Thanksgiving is a time
to reflect on the changes,
to remember that we, too,
grow and change
from one season of life to another.
Thanksgiving is a time
of changing seasons,
when leaves turn golden
in Autumn's wake
and apples are crispin
the first chill breezes of fall.
Let us remember the true meaning
As we see the beauty
let us acknowledge
the many blessings
which are ours...
let us think of our families
and let us give thanks in our hearts.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
"Love and kindness are the very basis of society. If we lose these feelings,society will face tremendous difficulties; the survival of humanity will be endangered."
"Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who doesn't appreciate kindness and compassion." -- His Holiness the Dalai Lama,
Friday, November 10, 2006
Many of us are fortunate enough to have friends who are a consistent part of our lives throughout all our ups and downs. However, sometimes others we consider friends appear to enter, then depart from our lives for reasons we try to, but don't always, understand. This piece nicely explains the flow of people in and out of our lives.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are! They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part, or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered. And now it is time to move on.
Then people come into your life for a SEASON, b ecause your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They bring you an experience of peace, or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons: things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Your mother or grandmother has Maria in her name.
You have a rooster napkin holder.
Your father or grandfather is called Manuel, Jose, Antonio, or Joao.
You have crocheted doilies on your kitchen counters, dining room, living room, bedroom--on all your tables.You decorate your walls with plates.Your house is a mini church with just as may statues of saints and Jesus as your church itself.
You're 25 and still living with your parents. (Extra points if you're married and living with your spouse in your parent's house).
You warn other drivers of police on the highway by flashing your lights, even though one of the drivers might have just robbed a bank.
You baptize your child and send him to catechism even though you might never go to church except for weddings and funerals.
You think all university graduates should be called "Doutor" and like to be called so if you are one of the chosen few who have managed to finish college.
You park on the sidewalk when necessary, even asking the person standing there to please move away.
You have a mobile phone and spend a small fortune on it, but think twice about going to the dentist.
You have a mother or grandmother who wears black.
You spend your holidays in Spain instead of in Portugal because it is cheaper.
If you are a woman, you have been to see a "curandeiro" (healer) or have had your fortune told.
You insist you wouldn't be caught dead buying Spanish olive oil even though most of the olive oil consumed in Portugal comes from Spain.
You laugh at jokes about the Alentejanos but get angry to know that the same jokes are told in Brazil about the Portuguese.
You think that you can catch a cold with a draft or by sitting in the spring sun.
Cold drinks are also thought to bring on the dreadful "gripe".
And don't let anyone have a shower after eating as something terrible could happen to them.
You get a letter from your doctor saying you can't work because of an "unspecified, ongoing medical condition" and then go on a two-week holiday.
Your child's teacher misses two weeks (because of a letter from his or her doctor) and you don't complain because you also will use the same doctor when you have to miss two weeks from your work.
If you are from Porto you don't like people from Lisbon and call them Moors.
The reverse is also true but they don't call you a nice word like "Moor".
You think Brazilians speak incorrect Portuguese and will not read a book written in Brazilian Portuguese.
The last major military victory you can remember your country having was the Battle of Aljubarrota in 1385.
You say that the Portuguese, unlike the Spanish, are good at learning foreign languages.
Your parents own like 9 houses in Portugal but complain about the lack of money in the States.
Going to Portugal involves buying gifts for all 500 members of your family
You go crazy for the World Cup
You refer to Portugal as "O Continent"
You've walked in "as paradas" longer than you can remember
You have grape vines in your backyard
You earned over $10,000 for your first communion.
To hell with the Turkey and Roast Beef! X-mas dinner was bacalhau au braz, baby!
A barbeque does not consist of burgers on the grill... Hello! Can you say sardinhas?
You've had your license for a month, but your $20,000 car has been "hooked up" for a year. I'm talking rims, tints, a system...
A wooden spoon equals discipline, or if you ever had to duck so you wouldn't get hit with flying shoes.
Your parents anticipate that you'll marry your first long-term boyfriend/girlfriend.
When you hear the word "Sagres" you think Beer, not historical marine school.
Nothing beats a buttered papo-seco.
Your 15 year old brother is allowed to have two girls sleep over, but your 19 year old sister can't go out past 7pm.
You think that 2am is too early to go to bed and that 11am is to early to get out of bed.
Your grandmother tells you look sick because you are too thin.
Your parents make you eat 3 servings of dinner at each sitting otherwise they think you don't like the cooking.
You're proud to be Portuguese - and you pass these jokes on to all your Portuguese friends!
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Nesse País de lenda, que me encanta,
Ficaram meus brocados, que despi,
E as jóias que plas aias reparti
Como outras rosas de Rainha Santa!
Tanta opala que eu tinha! Tanta, tanta!
Foi por lá que as semeei e que as perdi...
Mostrem-se esse País onde eu nasci!
Mostrem-me o Reino de que eu sou Infanta!
Ó meu País de sonho e de ansiedade,
Não sei se esta quimera que me assombra,
É feita de mentira ou de verdade!
Quero voltar! Não sei por onde vim...
Ah! Não ser mais que a sombra duma sombra
Por entre tanta sombra igual a mim!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
1. You accidentally enter your password on the microwave.
2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.
3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of 3
4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.
5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.
6. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.
7. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen.
8. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.
10. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.
11. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. : )
12. You're reading this and nodding and laughing. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
A vida e uma ocasiao, aproveita-a.
A vida e beleza, admira-a.
A vida e beatitude, saboreia-a.
A vida e um sonho, realiza-o.
A vida e um desafio, enfrenta-o.
A vida e um dever, cumpre-o.
A vida e um jogo, joga-o.
A vida e preciosa, cuida dela.
A vida e um tesouro, conserva-o.
A vida e amor, goza-o.
A vida e um misterio, descobre-o.
A vida e uma promessa, cumpre-a.
A vida e um hino, canta-o.
A vida e um combate, aceita-o.
A vida e uma tragedia, enfrenta-a.
A vida e uma aventura, ousa-a.
A vida e uma felicidade, merece-a.
A vida e a VIDA, defende-a!
-- Madre Teresa
Monday, July 10, 2006
Recortei este artigo de uma revista ha varios meses, escrito por Teresa Paula Marques Mestre em Psicopatologia e Psicologia,que me tocou profundamente, e hoje e na verdade o momento ideal para o transcrever aqui no meu cantinho.Nem a proposito,nao e verdade Jessica???????
I miss you a lot,sweetie!
Dizem que a palavra saudade apenas existe em portugues.Desconheco como e que os outros povos conseguem exprimir por palavras algo que e muito mais do que uma falta,uma ausencia,nostalgia ou qualquer outro substantivo.Trata-se de uma dor associada a perda,a certeza da impossibilidade de resgatar o instante vivido.O filosofo Heraclito disse um dia:"Nao consegues banhar-te duas vezes no mesmo rio,pois outras aguas e ainda outras vao sempre fluindo.E na mudanca que as coisas encontram o repouso",de facto,tudo muda,nada permanece.Nessa mudanca,as coisas encontram o seu repouso e,no repouso,reside a saudade.Somos inundados de saudade quando folheamos albuns de fotografias,sentimos determinados cheiros ou ouvimos certas musicas.Nesse instante,nao precisamos de uma maquina de tempo pois,de imediato,somos transportados para aquela epoca.podemos, tambem,ter saudades do futuro.Daquilo que poderiamos ter vivido mas que a morte,ou a perda,nas suas multiplas formas,nao nos permitiu viver.Imaginamos o futuro de modo idealizado.Pensamos que tudo poderia ter sido diferente,se as circunstancias assim o tivessem permitido.Lamentamos nao nos ter sido possivel mostrar claramente aqueles que partiram precocemente o quanto os amavamos,nao lhes termos dito o quao importantes foram para nos,o que aprendemos com eles,a falta que agora nos faz sentir o calor do seu olhar,o toque,o perfume.Sentimos tambem saudades da infancia,da epoca em que o mundo parecia pintado de rosa.Do tempo em que podiamos viver sem pressas e chorar sem constrangimentos.Quando o colo dos nossos pais era um porto seguro onde nos podiamos abrigar e lamentar as nossas pequenas dores.Saudades tambem do ultimo Natal em que conseguimos reunir toda a familia,em que os doces foram confeccionados en casa(em vez de comprados numa grande superficie,o avo se vestiu de Pai Natal,os presentes embrulhados um a um com o carinho de quem quer dar algo personalizado,escrevemos postais ou telefonamos a todos aqueles que ocupam um lugar importante dentro do nosso peito(nao recebemos 50 SMS com o mesmo texto,nem ficamos com a certeza de termos sido reduzidos com uma tecla do telemovel que se comprimiu porque a epoca assim o exige.Certo que a saudade doi,mas e a prova inequivoca de que as coisas nos tocaram profundamente,que amamos muito do que tivemos e,por isso,lamentamos o que de bom fomos perdendo ao longo da vida.Como alguem escreveu um dia"Quantas vezes tenho vontade de encontrar nao sei o que,nao sei onde,para resgatar alguma coisa que nem sei o que e e nem onde a perdi".
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Quero fazer uma pequena surpresa a mama antes de ela chegar do hospital (realizou uma pequena cirurgia e teve de passar la a noite, para aqueles que nao sabem..). Felizmente correu tudo bem! :o)
Entao, aqui vai, espero que gostem, e especialmente espero que a minha mae goste!
I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive. Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note - torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one.
Henry Ward Beecher
When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future.
There are certain people that mark our lives. You are one of them. Forgiveness is all I ask - for what I have done, for what I do and for what I will do. We live and we learn. I know I can't change the past, but, like the saying says, we can change the future - together! So, let's move on, get over it, tear it in two and burn it as if it was a piece of paper.
Get well soon! :o) (I'm sure you will......)
Friday, June 09, 2006
I close my eyes
Only for a moment, then the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind, ohh
Now, don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
- Kansas -
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Nunca te detenhas!
Tem sempre presente que a pele vai ficando enrugada, que o cabelo se torna branco, que os dias se vão convertendo em anos, mas o mais importante não muda! A tua força interior e as tuas convicções não têm idade. O teu espírito é o espanador de qualquer teia de aranha. Atrás de cada linha de chegada, há uma de partida. Atrás de cada trunfo, há outro desafio. Enquanto estiveres vivo, sente-te vivo. Se sentes saudades do que fazias, torna a fazê-lo.
Não vivas de fotografias amareladas. Continua, apesar de alguns esperarem que abandones. Não deixes que se enferruje o ferro que há em ti. Faz com que, em lugar de pena, as pessoas sintam respeito por ti. Quando, pelos anos, não consigas correr, trota. Quando não possas trotar, caminha. Quando não possas caminhar, usa a bengala. Mas nunca te detenhas!
Madre Teresa de Calcutá
Fonte: Correio do Vouga
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
"Hello," she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
"I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.
"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by.
"That's a joy," the child said.
"It's a what?"
"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance.
"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.
"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."
"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."
She giggled. "You're funny," she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.
"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
"I don't know. You say."
"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."
"Then let's just walk."
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.
"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
"Where do you go to school?"
"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
"Why?" she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."
"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"
"Did it hurt?" she inquired.
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.
"When she died?"
"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."
"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."
"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.
"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.
A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love.
NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.
Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.
This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.
This comes from someone's heart, and is read with many and now I share it with you...
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Amar só por amar: Aqui...além...
Mais Este e Aquele, o Outro e toda a gente
Amar!Amar!E não amar ninguém!
Prender ou desprender?É mal?É bem?
Quem disser que se pode amar alguém
Durante a vida inteira é porque mente!
Há uma Primavera em cada vida:
É preciso cantá-la assim florida,
Pois se Deus nos deu voz, foi pra cantar!
E se um dia hei-de ser pó,cinza e nada
Que seja a minha noite uma alvorada,
Que me saiba perder... pra me encontrar...
"Amar" de Florbela Espanca
Monday, May 22, 2006
I went to a party,
And remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink,
Mom,So I had a sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself,
The way you said I would,
That I didn't drink and drive,
Though some friends said I should.
I made a healthy choice,
And your advice to me was right.
The party finally ended,
And the kids drove out of sight.
I got into my car,
Sure to get home in one piece.
I never knew what was coming,
Mom,Something I expected least.
Now I'm lying on the pavement,
And I hear the policeman say,
The kid that caused this wreck was drunk,
Mom, his voice seems far away.
My own blood's all around me,
As I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
This girl is going to die.
I'm sure the guy had no idea,
While he was flying high.
Because he chose to drink and drive,
Now I would have to die.
So why do people do it, Mom
Knowing that it ruins lives?
And now the pain is cutting me,
Like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell sister not to be afraid, Mom
Tell daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven,
Put "Mommy's Girl" on my grave.
Someone should have taught him,
That it's wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe if his parents had,
I'd still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter,
Mom I'm getting really scared.
These are my final moments,
And I'm so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me Mom,
As I lie here and die.
I wish that I could say, "I love you, Mom!"
So I love you and good-bye.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
A Mother, A Daughter
A daughter - to a mother
Is a mirrored image of herself
She sees the same face
She feels the same hurt
A mother to a daughter
Is a cruel reminder
Of things to come
She sees the same face
She feels the same hurt
Why, when the two stand together
Can’t they see
The mirrored image
The cruel reminder
The only see authority
They only see rebellion
When does the distance
Between them seem so far
Yesterday they walked together
Yesterday they talked together
Two minds, one thought
A mother, a daughter
What makes a mother
Forget that she was young
She made so many mistakes
She cried a stream of tears
Only to land on her two feet
All of it now behind her.
What makes a daughter
Wish that she was grown
Away from her mother’s loving arms
Standing by herself
Not needing anyone
Making her own choices
A daughter to a Mother
Is the greatest gift God gives
A chance to change destiny
Prove herself better
The life she wished she’d lived
A mother to a daughter,
Is a fortress to conquer
A wall to climb over
Prove herself better
Make a life that’s all her own.
[ Author unknown -- E-Mail Ministry ]
Sunday, May 14, 2006
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."
There would have been more "I love you's" More "I'm sorry's."
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it. live it and never give it back.
STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!Don't worry about who doesn't like you , who has more, or who's doing what Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us. Let's think about what God HAS blessed us with, and what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally. I hope you have a blessed day.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Friday, May 05, 2006
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Sunday, April 23, 2006
I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.
This life is worth living, we can say, since it is what we make it.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
To all my friends and family on the other side, hopefully, very soon, we will be there having a great time, like always....
Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn