May tender memories soften your grief,
May fond recollection bring you relief,
And may you find comfort and peace in the thought
Of the joy that knowing your loved one brought ---
For time and space can never divide
Or keep your loved one from your side
When memory paints in colors true
The happy hours that belonged to you.
Author: Helen Steiner Rice
God saw that you were suffering
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
And whispered, ďCome with Me.Ē
Through tears filled years, we watched you suffer
And slowly fade away
Although we loved you deeply,
We could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating
Hard working hands were put to rest
God broke our hears to prove to us
He only takes the best.
"My First Christmas In Heaven"
I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below
With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars, reflecting on the snow
The sight is so spectacular, please wipe away the tear
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear
But the sounds of music can't compare with the Christmas
choir up here. I have no words to tell you, the joy their voices
bring. For it is beyond description, to hear the angels sing.
I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart
But I am not so far away, We really aren't apart.
So be happy for me, dear ones, You know I hold you dear.
And be glad I'm spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
I sent you each a special gift, from my heavenly home above.
I sent you each a memory of my undying love.
After all, love is a gift more precious than pure gold.
It was always most important in the stories Jesus told.
Please love and keep each other, as my Father said to do.
For I can't count the blessing or love he has for each of you.
So have a Merry Christmas and wipe away that tear
Remember, I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ
A DAY, A WEEK, A LIFETIME
When I wake up in the morning
I ask myself
How will I get through this day
As I dress and prepare to start my day
How will I go on
As the day slowly slips away
I remember how you made me laugh
And I smile
At the end of the day
As I prepare to close my eyes
I know in my HEART
I couldn't have gotten through the day
A Limb Fallen
A limb has fallen from the family tree.
I keep hearing a voice that says, "Grieve not for me.
Remember the best times, the laughter the song.
The good life I lived while I was strong.
Continue my heritage, I'm counting on you.
Keep smiling and surely the sun will shine through.
My mind is at ease, my soul is at rest.
Remembering all, how I truly was blessed.
Continue traditions, no matter how small.
Go on with your life, don't just stare at the wall.
I miss you all dearly, so keep up your chin.
Until the day comes we're together again."
A MEMORY HUG
Your loss has left a hole in your heart.
That hole never goes away...
you learn to live with it.
With acceptance of the loss
and changes in your life,
the pain lessens.
Eventually memories fill up the space,
but it never goes away.
Then, when you least expect it,
a memory spills out
of the hole in your heart
and washes you clean again with tears.
Think of it as a "MEMORY HUG"
A Prison of the Mind
A Prison of the Mind
This prison does not have to have bars of steel,
But the barriers to freedom remain just as real.
There is no judge that can free her on bail,
And no able lawyer that can keep her from jail.
It started so simply, just a phrase here and there,
And also a memory, that vanished in thin air.
She was starting to repeat, things she'd already said,
Offering only faint clues as to what lay ahead.
She slowly grew worse, as the seasons passed by.
She knew something was wrong, but not what, or why.
Just to go out would become such a task,
For over and over, the same questions she'd ask.
Then came the times when in anger and fear,
She'd beg: "Please help me!" and weep bitter tears.
Now for some time she has lived here with us,
And every evening she'll make such a big fuss.
"I want to go home! Why can't I just leave?"
The answers we give her, she just can't receive.
Slowly, but surely, the disease shuts her in.
Now we can see the beginning of the end.
What is this illness, with no cure we can find?
Alzheimer's Disease, it's a prison of the mind.
© 1997, Jerry Ham
Please grant my visitors tolerance of my confusion,
forgiveness for my irrationality,
and strength to walk with me
into the mist of memory my world has become.
Please help them take my hand and stay awhile,
even though I seem unaware of their presence.
Help them to know how their strength
and loving care will drift softly into
the days to come, just when I need it most.
Let them know that, when I donít recognize them,
I will ask them to keep their hearts free of sorrow for me.
For my sorrow, when it comes, only lasts for a moment and then it is gone.
And finally, Lord,
please let them know how very much their visits mean.
How, even through this relentless mystery,
I can feel their love.
An Angel's Plea
Mama, mama, please don't cry.
I'm in heaven, looking down.
I watch you day and night.
I watch you smile.
I watch you cry.
We'll be together again one day.
But in your heart, I'm with you always.
Mama, mama, please don't cry.
You loved me then.
You love me more now.
You played with me when I felt sick.
You read me stories and taught me to pray.
You held me when monsters entered my dreams.
Mama, I am safe in heaven now.
Mama, mama, please don't cry.
I loved you then.
I love more now.
An Old Lady's Poem
What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe.
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten... with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twentyómy heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, babies play round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm now an old woman.... and nature is cruel;
'Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again.
I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, nurses, open and see
Not a crabby old woman; look closer.... see ME!
When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem... and this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet. Goes to show that we all leave some footprints in time. Remember this poem when you next meet an old person whom you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.... you will one day be there, too!
And That Is Dying
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"
And that is dying....
Henry Van Dyke
Beatitudes For Friends Of The Aged
Blessed are they who understand
My faltering step and palsied hand.
Blessed are they who know that my ears today
Must strain to catch the things they say.
Blessed are they who seem to know
That my eyes are dim and my wits are slow.
Blessed are they who looked away
When coffee spilled at table today.
Blessed are they with a cheery smile
Who stop to chat for a little while.
Blessed are they who never say,
"You've told that story twice today."
Blessed are they who know the ways
To bring back memories of yesterdays.
Blessed are they who make it known
That I'm loved, respected and not alone.
Blessed are they who know I'm at a loss
To find the strength to carry the Cross.
Blessed are they who ease the days
On my journey Home in loving ways.
By Esther Mary Walker
Before I Go
When my life has reached its very end,
And I take that final breath;
I want to know I've left behind,
Some "good" before my death.
I hope that in my final hour,
In all honesty I can say:
That somewhere in my lifetime,
I have brightened someone's day.
That maybe I have brought a smile
To someone else's face,
And made one moment a little sweeter
While they dwelled here in this place.
Lord, please be my reminder
And whisper softly in my ear ...
To be a "giver," not a "taker,"
In the years I have left here.
Give to me the strength I need,
Open up my mind and my soul . . .
That I might show sincere compassion,
And love to others before I go.
For if not a heart be touched by me,
And not a smile was left behind . . .
Then the life that I am blessed with,
Will have been a waste of time.
With all my heart, I truly hope
To leave something here on earth . . .
That touched another, made them smile
And gave to my life . . . worth.
Surrounded by friends
yet all alone
the one I loved
God has called home
the hugs of friends
helps ease the pain
and I know my loss
is my loved one's gain
but tears now flow
across my face
as I long for just
one more embrace
then comfort comes
and I see Christ's face
He hugs my loved one
and I feel God's grace.
Don't Tell Me...
Don't tell me that you understand, don't tell me that you know,
Don't tell me that I will survive, how I will surely grow.
Don't tell me this is just a test, that I am truly blessed,
That I am chosen for this task, apart from all the rest.
Don't come at me with answers that can only come from me,
Don't tell me how my grief will pass, that I will soon be free.
Don't stand in pious judgment of the bonds I must untie,
Don't tell me how to suffer, don't tell me how to cry.
My life is filled with selfishness, my pain is all I see,
But I need you, I need your love, unconditionally.
Accept me in my ups and downs, I need someone to share,
Just hold my hand and let me cry, and say,
"My friend, I really do care."
Everyone Needs Someone
People need people and friends need friends,
And we all need love for a full life depends-
Not on vast riches or great acclaim,
Not on success or on worldy fame,
But just in knowing that someone cares,
And holds us close in their thoughts and prayers-
For only the knowledge that we're understood,
Makes everyday living feel wonderfully good,
And we rob ourselves of life's greatest need,
When we "lock up our hearts" and fail to heed,
The outstretched hand reaching to find,
A kindred spirit whose heart and mind,
Are lonely and longing to somehow share,
Our joys and sorrows and to make us aware,
That life's completeness and richness depends,
On the things we share with our loved ones,
Helen Steiner Rice
Fathers are Wonderful People
Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should...
For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills...
And Father struggles daily
To live up to "HIS IMAGE"
As protector and provider
And "hero or the scrimmage"...
And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion,
But if you look inside Dad's heart,
Where no one else can see
You'll find he's sentimental
And as "soft" as he can be...
But he's so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife...
But Fathers are just WONDERFUL
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise,
For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness...
And like OUR HEAVENLY FATHER,
He's a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be ALWAYS ON OUR SIDE.
~Helen Steiner Rice~
Footprints Across our Heart
The door is closed.
The lights turned off.
The closet stands bare.
All the room once waiting...
For the child that should be there.
Sorrow wells up inside of us.
Our tears, an endless flow.
All because we miss the child...
The child we'll never know
No camping trips, No soccer games,
Nor late evening talks,
No baseball camps or shopping trips
No shaded mountain walks.
We have not even memories
To help through times like these
We only have each other
as we go down on our knees...
To plead with you, our Father,
To take this pain away...
To help us know your love will guide us
through each day.
We may never know the reasons
For this terrible tragedy;
But we can know you love us
through all life's mysteries.
Our time was far too brief;
It was over before its start...
But our little angel left behind
Footprints Across Our Heart
by W. Patrick Queen
For Such A Little While
God gave you your daughter
For such a little while;
He put a bit of heaven
In the sunshine of her smile.
He took dust from
The brightest twinkling stars
And made her sparkling eyes;
And now, she's gone back home to God,
To play up in the skies.
And though she left so quickly
That your hearts are grieved and sad,
We know she lives with God
And her small heart is glad.
And though your precious darling
Was just a rosebud small;
She'll bloom in all her beauty
On the other side of the wall.
Helen Steiner Rice
A flower near an oak so strong
With bending stem which is quite long
Leans against the oak for strength
And breathes a sigh of certain length.
Recently it has forgotten how
To stand up straight, and not to bow.
It forgets to greet the waiting sun
And knows not when the day is done.
It holds its petals close and tight
Revealing not their beauty, bright.
Itís fragrance once perfumed the air,
Like love, would lift you up with care.
Its roots are mingled with the tree
So tightly weaved as our family.
Dewdrops fall, like tears that race,
For no other flower can take her place.
The oak does moan from the weight.
It bends, cracks, and questions fate.
Why canít we stop this weed that grows,
Which strangles everything she knows?
We look at times of happier days
Reflecting on Mom in so many ways.
She would open up her petals wide,
To make a home all fragrant inside.
Her love does blossom in the light.
She is our Flower, our beauty bright.
On her the butterflies do rest.
When God made her he made his best.
ó By Jim Hansen, who wrote this poem for his Mom,
Marjorie Hansen, who has had Alzheimerís disease for
about 13 years. (Written in 2003)
Friendship Is A Priceless Gift
Friendship is a priceless gift
that cannot be bought or sold.
But its value is far greater,
than a mountain made of gold.
For gold is cold and lifeless
it can neither see nor hear,
and in the time of trouble
it is powerless to cheer,
it has no ears to listen nor heart to understand,
It cannot bring you comfort or reach out a helping hand.
So when you ask God for a gift
Be thankful if he sends not diamonds,
pearls or riches but the love of real TRUE FRIENDS.
Helen Steiner Rice
GOD LOVES THE CAREGIVERS
You wake up every morning and it seems you haven't slept.
You know another day has dawned, a day you must accept.
Your loved one in that sterile room is waiting for you now;
You know that you'll get through the day, but still you're wondering how.
For weeks you've made that anxious trip to try to ease her pain.
You pray each visit that you make will not be made in vain.
You see her suffer, hold her tight, and wipe away her tears.
You tell her Jesus loves her and can calm her mounting fears.
You choose her favorite verses from the Bible that you bring,
Encourage her to join you in the praises that you sing.
You hold her hand, begin to pray and soon you hear God's voice,
"My children, I am here and though it seems you have no choice,
Your pleas aren't falling on deaf ears, for I've known suffering, too;
I suffered on that cross to give eternal life to you.
"So trust in me, I'll never give you more than you can bear;
I see my child who's hurting and my child who's giving care.
I've wrapped my arms around you both, and I will hold you near;
One day it will be over and the pain will disappear."
God has a special love for those who minister and care,
When life seems very hard for you and sometimes seems unfair.
One day will be Awards Day and He'll show the prize you'll claim
And heaven will erupt in cheers, when God calls out your name.
Does God shed a tear for these troubled times Ė
when he looks down on us from above?
He created us in his own image Ė
to live peacefully and spread his love.
But Iím sure weíre a great disappointment Ė
with our violence, hatred, and lies.
When he sees what the world is becoming Ė
does he wish he could just shield his eyes?
Yet, with hope, he still sends us his message.
We must all live together as friends.
For God can create Ė but also destroy.
Letís stop fighting before it all ends!
Good Night Little Angel
I'll throw away the faded ones
and leave fresh ones instead.
I'll stand above the place you lay,
placed there a year ago today.
And once again my heart will break,
and unchecked tears will flow.
With gentle fingers I'll caress,
your name carved in stone.
Then brush away the fallen leaves,
November winds have blown.
I'll dry my eyes, I'll say a prayer, and as I raise my head,
Another grieving mother has just tucked her child in bed.
There's nothing like being a grandma
And watching your grandchildren grow;
There's nothing like watching your grandkids act up
And seeing your children eat crow.
Rememb'ring the times when my children
Just wore me right down to the nub;
They'd don their best clothes and then roll in the dirt
And I'd wrestle them into the tub.
I try to suppress all my giggles
When my grandkids are pitching a fit,
I wonder sometimes if they've cloned my own kids
Though it's something I'd never admit.
There were times when I'd spin in confusion
When my boys were just pulling my chain;
I think of those days when I'd drop in a heap
(I'm surprised that I'm left with a brain).
So, today I sit back in amusement
And watch while my sons tear their hair
As their kids do the same things that drove me half nuts
And I smile and think, "Boys, I've been there!"
By Mariane Holbrook
Printed with Permission
Why must I grieve silently,
When my heart is so loudly screaming?
The emptiness I feel is consuming me,
Oh God, how I wish I were dreaming.
The silence around me is deafening,
For nobody knows what to say,
To comfort this agony I'm feeling,
Since my daughter went away.
And each day the sun continues to rise,
And the earth is still turning,
Though my world has come to a screeching halt,
No one can ease my yearning.
For a part of me has vanished,
And a part of my heart has died,
And no one can hear my heartache,
Or feel the turmoil I carry inside.
And I'll go on grieving silently,
And exist on a different plane,
And I'll keep my love for her deep in my heart,
Until we see each other again.
HE GATHERS EVERY TEARDROP
He Gathers Every Teardrop
Regardless of the circumstance,
Regardless of the fear,
Regardless of the pain we bear,
Regardless of the tear.
Our God is ever in control,
Performing as He should,
And He has promised in His Word
To work things for our good.
But as a loving Father would,
He sometimes lets us cry
To cleanse the hurt out of our heart,
To wash it from our eye.
Yet gently gathers the tears
Within His hands to stay
Until He turns them into pearls,
and gives them back someday.
Whatever our hands touch
We leave fingerprints!
On walls, on furniture,
On doorknobs, dishes, books.
There's no escape.
As we touch we leave our identity.
Oh God, wherever I go today
Help me leave heartprints!
Heartprints of compassion,
Of understanding and love.
Heartprints of kindness
And genuine concern.
May my heart
Touch a lonely neighbor
Or a runaway daughter
Or an anxious mother
Or perhaps an aged grandfather.
Lord, send me out today
To leave heartprints!
And if someone should say,
"I felt your touch,"
May that someone sense
Touching through me.
~ Author Unknown ~
How Can I Live Now??
How can I live now,
when life in itself died?
How can I live now,
when nothing will be like it was?
My life goes on, autumn will be winter
and winter will be spring...
Wherever I look, in each flower,
in every smell, you are there...
But still.. How can I live now,
when my hope left me...
Beloved child, help your mum to live...
Help me to go on...
How can I live now, when you arenít here?
I'll Lend You A Child
by Edgar Guest
"I'll lend you for a little time a child of mine," He said.
For you to love - while he lives
And mourn for when he's dead.
It may be six or seven years
Or twenty-two or three,
But will you, till I call him back,
Take care or him for Me?
He'll bring his smiles to gladden you,
And should this stay be brief
You'll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return,
But there are lessons taught down there
I want this child to learn.
I've looked this world over
In search for teachers true,
And from the throngs that crowd
Life's lanes, I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love,
Nor count the labor vain,
Nor hate Me when I come to call to
Take him back again?"
I fancied that I heard then say,
"Dear Lord, Thy will be done,
For all the joy Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may,
And for the happiness we've known
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for him
Much sooner than we've planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that come
And try to understand."
Don't Grieve for me, for now I'm free,
I'm following the path God has laid you see.
I took his hand when I heard Him call.
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to work or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way
I found the peace at the close of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joys.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Oh, yes these things I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life's been full, I savored much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief
Lift up your hearts, and peace to thee.
God wanted me now, He set me free.
I'm Still Here
Friend, please don't mourn for me
I'm still here, though you don't see.
I'm right by your side each night and day
and within your heart I long to stay.
My body is gone but I'm always near.
I'm everything you feel, see or hear.
My spirit is free, but I'll never depart
as long as you keep me alive in your heart.
I'll never wander out of your sight-
I'm the brightest star on a summer night.
I'll never be beyond your reach-
I'm the warm moist sand when you're at the beach.
I'm the colorful leaves when fall comes around
and the pure white snow that blankets the ground.
I'm the beautiful flowers of which you're so fond,
The clear cool water in a quiet pond.
I'm the first bright blossom you'll see in the spring,
The first warm raindrop that April will bring.
I'm the first ray of light when the sun starts to shine,
and you'll see that the face in the moon is mine.
When you start thinking there's no one to love you,
you can talk to me through the Lord above you.
I'll whisper my answer through the leaves on the trees,
and you'll feel my presence in the soft summer breeze.
I'm the hot salty tears that flow when you weep
and the beautiful dreams that come while you sleep.
I'm the smile you see on a baby's face.
Just look for me, friend, I'm everyplace!
If Tears Could Build A Stairway
If tears could build a stairway
And memories were a lane
We would walk right up to Heaven
And bring you back again
No farewell words were spoken
No time to say goodbye
You were gone before we knew it
And only God knows why
Our hearts still ache in sadness
And secret tears still flow
What it meant to lose you
No on will ever know
But know we know you want us
To mourn for you no more
To remember all the happy times
Life still has much in store
Since youíll never be forgotten
We pledge to you today
A hallowed place within our hearts
Is where youíll always stay
If Tomorrow Never Comes
If I knew it would be the last time
that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute or two
to stop and say "I love you,"
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.
If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything right.
There will always be another day
to say our "I love you's",
And certainly there's another chance
to say our "Anything I can do's?"
But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget,
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight..
So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today,
whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you'll always hold them dear,
Take time to say "I'm sorry," "please forgive me,"
"thank you" or "it's okay".
And if tomorrow never comes,
you'll have no regrets about today.
Send this to all that you consider a friend.
Just to let them know
how much you care about them.
You never know, you may not see them tomorrow.
So let them know how much you care about them today.
It's The Thought That Counts
Often in times of trouble we
don't know what to say,
So we choose to say nothing,
and sometimes run away
When friends are really hurting,
we don't know what to do,
So we offer weak excuses
or say we're hurting too.
It really doesn't matter
what kind of gift we bring;
We only need to be there
if we don't bring a thing.
It truly is amazing
what a hug can do,
When heartache numbs the senses,
and friends depend on you.
There's comfort just in knowing
that you are not alone,
When tears are overflowing,
and hearts are cold as stone.
It's the loving prayers of others
that balance our accounts,
For when we measure love,
it's still the thought that counts.
By Clay Harrison
Iíve Lost you, Though Youíre Here
It started all so harmlessly, when you couldnít find your keys.
I never gave a thought that it might be more than I could see.
But it happened more and more, dear dad, I can see the road ahead,
Is something I donít want to walk; something that I dread.
You didnít know my name today. I felt the knife plunge through my heart.
I wanted to take care of you, but didnít know just where to start.
I went into my room and cried. Iím losing you so fast.
Your mind is now the enemy; this straw Ė it is your last.
I put my hands together; wiped the tears from both my eyes.
I turned my eyes to heaven, and let out such a sigh.
I asked our God to take you home. It was the hardest thing to do.
But youíre not the man who held my hand; this disease has taken you.
You donít know me anymore. Iím a stranger to your mind.
Your memories have all gone; this illness isnít kind.
The day is drawing close Ė the one which I most fear
I canít believe our lives. Iíve lost you, though youíre here.
--by Patti Hagn
Written in honor of my dad Thomas Pelham
Printed with Permission
To "let go" does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To "let go" is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.
To "let go" is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To "let go" is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.
To "let go" is not to care for,
but to care about.
To "let go" is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To "let go" is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their own destinies.
To "let go" is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.
To "let go" is not to deny,
but to accept.
To "let go" it not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings, and correct them.
To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires
but to take each day as it comes,
and cherish myself in it.
To "let go" is not to criticize and regulate anybody
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To "let go" is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.
To "let go" is to fear less,
and love more.
Miss Me But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little--but not too long
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love we once shared,
Miss me--but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all a part of the Masterís plan,
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart,
Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds -
Miss me--But Let me Go!
No words I write can ever say,
How much I miss you everyday.
As time goes by the loneliness grows,
How I miss you...nobody knows.
I think of you in silence,
I often speak your name.
But all I have are memories,
And a photo in frame.
No one see's me weep.
But the love I have for you,
Is in my heart and mine to keep.
I never stopped loving you,
I don't think I ever will.
Deep inside my heart,
You are with me still.
Heartaches this world are many,
But mine is worse than any.
My heart still aches as I whisper low,
"I need you....and miss you so."
The things we feel so deeply,
Are often the hardest things to say.
But I just can't keep quite anymore,
So I'll tell you anyway.
There is a place in my heart,
That no one can fill.
I love you...and I always will.
To the living I am gone
To the sorrowful, I will never return
To the angry, I was cheated.
But to the happy, I am at peace
And to the faithful, I have never left.
I cannot speak, but I can listen
I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.
So, as you stand upon a shore,
Gazing at a beautiful sea-
As you look in awe at a mighty forest
And its grand majesty
Remember me in your heart,
Your thoughts and your memories
Of the times we cried,
The times we fought,
The times we laughed,
For if you always think of me,
I will never be gone from your side.
Snowy Wings of Heaven
When I picture heaven
There are great things that await
Like fluffy clouds and trumpets
And those gold and pearly gates
I also see the angels
With wings of snowy white
And right above their heads
I see a glow of golden light
They send to me a message
There is so much more to come
A final place to call a home
When days on earth are done
So I face the end with comfort
Because I know of better things
For someday, I too shall earn
A pair of snowy wings
Copyright Lois Dean
Printed with permission
Surviving A Child On Mother's Day
If youíre looking for an answer this Motherís Day to why God reclaimed your child, I donít know. I only know that thousands of mothers out there today desperately need an answer as to why they were permitted to go through the elation of carrying a child and then lose it to miscarriage, accident, violence, suicide, disease or drugs.
Motherhood isnít just a series of contractions; itís a state of mind. From the moment we know life is inside us, we feel a responsibility to protect and defend that human being. Itís a promise we canít keep. We beat ourselves to death over that pledge. "If I hadnít worked through the eighth month." "If I had taken him/her to the doctor when he had a fever." "If I hadnít let him use the car that night." "If I hadnít been so naÔve, Iíd have noticed he was on drugs or needed help with depression."
The longer I live, the more convinced I become that surviving changes us. After the bitterness, the anger, the guilt and despair are tempered by time, we look at life differently. While I was writing my book: "I Want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow Up, I Want to Go to Boise," I talked with mothers who had lost a child to cancer. Every single one said that death gave their lives new meaning and purpose.
And who do you think prepared them for the rough, lonely road that they had to travel? Ė their dying child. They pointed their mothers toward the future and told them to keep going. The children had already accepted what their mothers were fighting to reject. Even those children who died a sudden death are able to spiritually touch their parents and help them live on.
The children in the bombed-out nursery in Oklahoma City have touched many lives. Workers who had probably given their kids a mechanical pat on the head without thinking that morning were making calls home during the day to their children to say, "I love you."
Joy and life abound for millions of mothers on Motherís Day. Itís also a day of appreciation and respect. I can think of no mothers who deserve it more than those who had to give a child back.
In the face of misery they ask, "Why me?" but there is no answer. Maybe they are the instruments who are left behind to perpetuate the lives that were lost and appreciate the times they had with their children. They are the ones who help pick up the pieces when tragedy occurs and others have lost their children.
By Erma Bombeck
The Father's Son
Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for the art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others adorned the walls of the family estate. The widowed elder man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world.
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. his beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed, the young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man viewed the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, that he and his son had so looked forward to, would visit his house no longer.
On Christmas morning a knock on the door awakened the depressed, old man. As he walked to the door, the master-pieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hands. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you."
As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of art. his task completed, the old man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. Hie would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart.
As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief, the painting of his son became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation that with the collector's passing, and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the day he had received the greatest gift.
The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would hope to claim, "I have the greatest collection."
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent. "Who will open the bidding with $100?" Minutes passed and no one spoke. From the back of the room came a voice, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son." "Let's forget about it and move on to the good stuff," more voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer. Now who will take the son?" Finally, a neighbor of the old man spoke. "Will you take $10 for the painting? that's all I have. I knew the boy, so I'd like to have it."
After more silence, the auctioneer said, " I have ten dollars, will anyone go higher?" The auctioneer said, "Going once, Going twice, Gone." The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!" The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over.
Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, " What do you mean, it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art here! I demand that you explain what is going on!" The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son, gets it all."
For God So Loved the World, that He Gave His Only Begotten Son That whosoever believeth in Him, shall not perish .... But have everlasting Life
The Gift Of Lasting Love
Love is much more than a tender caress
and more than bright hours of gay happiness,
For a lasting love is made up of sharing
both hours that are 'joyous' and also 'despairing'?
It's made up of patience and deep understanding
and never of selfish and stubborn demanding,
It's made up of climbing and steep hills together
and facing with courage life's stormiest weather
And nothing on earth or in heaven can part
a love that has grown to be part of the heart,
And just like the sun and the stars and the sea,
this love will go on through eternity -
For 'true love' lives on when earthly things die,
for it's part of the Spirit that soars to the sky.
Helen Steiner Rice
The Gift of Life
The gift of life is ours today
to mold and shape like blocks of clay
each day unveils and open door
that wasnít open there before.
The gift of life is ours today
to use before it ticks away
like sand within an hourglass
for this day too is soon to pass.
Our Yesterdays have all been spent
they canít be saved or sold or lent
the gift of life is ours today
to worship, work, or rest and play.
The hours pass so quickly by
we sometimes laugh and sometimes cry,
there is so much we need to do.
If we would have a dream come true
who knows which day will be our last
before it fades into the past?
Our time is precious come what may
the gift of life is ours today
The Lord Is Thy Keeper
The Lord Is Thy Keeper
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help [cometh] from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord [is] thy keeper: the Lord [is] thy shade upon thy right hand.
The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.
The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth,
and even for evermore.
- Psalms 121: 1-8
The Soldier Stood and Faced God
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."
There Are No Words
There are no words ...what can I say?
At last her sweet soul winged its way
To peace and freedom in the sky
Where never again will she suffer or cry.
It's all part of God's great plan ...
Which remains a mystery to man.
We cannot understand His ways
Nor can we count our earthly days.
But who are we to question and doubt?
God knoweth well what He's about;
He knew she longed to "go to sleep"
Where only angels, a vigil keep.
The pain of living grew too great
No longer could she stay and wait;
She did not want to leave you, dear,
But she had finished her work down here.
So she closed her eyes and when she awoke,
These are the words the Master spoke ...
"Welcome, dear child, you are Home at last,
And now the burden of living is past."
"There's work for you in My Kingdom, dear
And you are needed and wanted here."
So weep not, she has just gone on ahead,
Don't think of her as being dead.
She's out of sight for a little while,
And you'll miss her touch and her little smile,
But you know she is safe in the home above
Where there is nothing but Peace and Love.
And, surely, you would not deny her peace ...
And you're glad that she has found release.
Think of her there as a soul that is free,
And Home at last, where she wanted to be.
Helen Steiner Rice
There Is A Special Angel
There is a special Angel in Heaven
that is a part of me.
It is not where I wanted him
but where God wanted him to be.
He was here but just a moment
like a night time shooting star.
And though he is in Heaven
he isn't very far.
He touched the heart of many
like only an Angel can do.
I would've held him every minute
if the end I only knew.
So I send this special message
to the Heaven up above.
Please take care of my Angel
and send him all my love.
Those We Love
Those we love remain with us,
For love itself lives on,
And cherished memories never fade,
Because a loved one is gone...
Those we love can never be more than a
For as long as there is memory,
They'll live on in the heart.
And brought unto the earth a bit of beauty,
love and faith.
And now their lives will ever be reflected
in our hearts.
Time Will East The Hurt
The sadness of the present days
Is locked and set in time,
And meaning to the future
Is a slow and painful climb.
But all the feelings that are now
So vivid and so real
Can't hold their fresh intensity
As time begins to heal.
No wound so deep will ever go
Yet every hurt becomes
A little less from day to day.
Nothing can erase the painful
Imprints on your mind;
But there are softer memories
That time will let you find.
Though your heart won't let the sadness
Simply slide away,
The echoes will diminish
Even though the memories stay.
by Bruce B. Wilmer
To My Children
When I spill some food on my nice clean dress
Or maybe forget to tie my shoe,
Please be patient and perhaps reminisce
About the many hours I spent with you.
When I taught you how to eat with care,
Plus tying laces and your numbers, too,
Dressing yourself and combing your hair,
Those were precious hours spent with you.
So when I forget what I was about to say,
Just give me a minute - or maybe two.
It probably wasn't important anyway,
And I would much rather listen just to you.
If I tell the story one more time,
And you know the ending through and through,
Please remember your first nursery rhyme
When I rehearsed it a hundred times with you.
When my legs are tired and it's hard to stand
Or walk the steady pace that I would like to do,
Please take me carefully by my hand,
And guide me now as I so often did for you.
To Our Hurting Child
To Our Hurting Child
We sit beside your listless frame
And squeeze your small, frail hand.
Our anxious hearts feel time is short;
Itís not the way we planned.
The day God brought you to our lives
We thanked Him for His love
In sending us a child like you
Direct from heaven above.
Your smile is lasered on our hearts
Itís warmed us through our tears.
Weíve prayed for God to heal you, dear,
And give you many years
To fill our home with your sweet voice
To watch you while you play,
And when itís time to say goodnight
To kneel with you and pray.
Though doctors try with all their might
To ease your awful pain,
We know that God is with you now;
Our prayers wonít be in vain.
Weíll trust in Him to see us through;
We donít know whatís ahead.
Our hearts might break, it might be hard
And salty tears weíll shed.
If God should take you Home with Him,
Heíll give you special care
And wrap His arms around you tight
Til all your familyís there.
Your times are written on Godís hand
He knows whatís best for you.
He knows how much we love you, dear;
His grace will see us through.
But if in Godís great planning
He looks down and sees you there
And heals your little body
As he hears our fervent prayer,
Weíll share our life together;
We wonít have to be apart.
We may not understand Godís ways,
But we can trust His heart.
by Mariane Holbrook
Printed with permission
To Those I love
If I should ever leave you whom I love
To go along the Silent Way, grieve not,
Nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk
Of me as if I were beside you there.
(I'd come - I'd come, could I but find a way!
But would not tears and grief be barriers?)
And when you hear a song or see a bird I loved,
please do not let the thought of me
Be sad . . .
For I am loving you just as
I always have . . .
You were so good to me!
There are so many things I wanted still
To do - so many things to say to you . . .
Remember that I did not fear . . . It was
Just leaving you that was so hard to face . . .
We cannot see Beyond . . .
But this I know:
I loved you so -
'twas heaven here with you!
by Isla Paschal Richardson
Two Mothers Remembered
I had two Mothers - two Mothers I claim
Two different people, yet with the same name.
Two separate women, diverse by design,
But I loved them both because they were mine.
The first was the Mother who carried me here,
Gave birth and nurtured and launched my career.
She was the one whose features I bear,
Complete with the facial expressions I wear.
She gave me her love, which follows me yet,
Along with the examples in life that she set.
As I got older, she somehow younger grew,
And we'd laugh as just Mothers and daughters should do.
But then came the time that her mind clouded so,
And I sensed that the Mother I knew would soon go.
So quickly she changed and turned into the other,
A stranger who dressed in the clothes of my Mother.
Oh, she looked the same, at least at arm's length,
But now she was the child and I was her strength.
We'd come full circle, we women three,
My Mother the first, the second and me.
And if my own children should come to a day,
When a new Mother comes and the old goes away.
I'd ask of them nothing that I didn't do.
Love both of your Mothers as both have loved you.
Joann Snow Duncanson
Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried.
Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, "Child, you must wait!"
"'Wait?í you say, wait!" my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By FAITH I have asked, and am claiming your Word.
"My future and all to which I can relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to WAIT?
I'm needing a 'yes,' a go-ahead sign,
Or even a 'no' to which I can resign.
"And Lord, you promised that if we believe
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord, I've been asking, and this is my cry
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply!"
Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, "You must wait."
So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting. . .for what?"
He seemed then to kneel and His eyes wept with mine,
And he tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run.
All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want--but, you wouldn't know ME.
"You'd not know the depth of my love for each saint;
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint;
You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.
"You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of my Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save. . .(for a start),
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of my heart.
"The glow of my comfort late into the night.
The faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that's beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite God, who makes what you have LAST.
"You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that 'My grace is sufficient for thee.'
Yes, your dreams for your loved ones overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss! if I lost what I'm doing in you!
"So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
THAT THE GREATEST OF GIFTS IS TO GET TO KNOW ME.
And though oft may my answers seem terribly late,
My wisest of answers is still but to WAIT."
Waiting At Eternity's Door
Death beckoned him with outstretched hand
And whispered softly of 'an unknown land'...
But he was not afraid to go
For though the path he did not know,
He took death's hand without a fear
For God who safely brought him here
Had promised He would lead the way
Into eternity's bright day . . .
For none of us need go alone
Into the valley that's unknown
But guided by our Father's hand
We journey to the promised land . . .
And as his loving, faithful wife
Who shared his home and heart and life,
You will find comfort for your grief,
In knowing death brought sweet relief,
For now he is free from all suffering and pain
And your 'great loss' became his gain . . .
You know his love is with you still,
For he loved you in life and he always will . . .
For love like yours can never end
Because it is the perfect blend
Of joys and sorrows, smiles and tears
That just grows stronger with the years
And love like this can never die,
For you 'take it with you to the sky' . . .
So think of your loved one as living above
No farther away than your undying love . . .
And now he is happy and free once more
And he waits for you at eternity's door.
Helen Steiner Rice
We Who Care
We care without thinking, we do it for love
It comes as a gift from Heaven above
Some are the victims, while others must care
These are the things we are all born to share.
We try to find reasons, we can't understand
Why these things happen, they could never be planned
But when they do, we obey God's command
He never forsakes us, He takes us in hand.
It comes from the heart, it comes from the soul
And each day that it comes, is one more precious day
We dont think we're special, no, not even good
We just do what anyone in our place would.
What Makes a Dad
God took the strength of a mountain, The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun, The calm of a quiet sea,
The generous soul of nature, The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages, The power of the eagle's flight,
The joy of a morning in spring, The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of eternity, The depth of a family need,
Then God combined these qualities, When there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so, He called it ... Dad
When Daddy Died
When daddy died
he took his benediction voice
as he blessed each family meal.
He took the awe, the worship,
the reverence of his prayers
laced with 'thee' and 'thou"
as he knelt before his God.
When daddy died
he took that gleam in his blue eyes
as his returning, married children
hurried toward his open arms
to receive unconditional love
and acceptance and pride.
When daddy died
he took his distinctive gait,
that walk he'd given to his stalwart sons
and which we as girls
tried to copy
When daddy died
he took the comfort of his large hand
which tightly held mine
as we walked on warm summer nights
to pass men who tipped their hats
and women who fanned their faces
and waved from open doors.
But when daddy died
he couldn't take his green tackle box
with iridescent fishing lures,
his straw hat with band of pale blue,
his dog-eared spiral book of sermons
and his Bible stuffed with folded notes.
He couldn't take his hoarded box of pencils,
his black metal lunch box,
or his shaving mug and leather strap and razor.
He couldn't take his gold watch,
with the chain draped from his navy vest.
And when he died
he couldn't take his most treasured possession--
the little red harmonica
that he wanted me, his youngest girl, to have.
By Mariane Holbrook
Printed with Permission
When I Must Leave You
When I must leave you for a little while,
Please do not grieve and shed wild tears
And hug your sorrow to you through the years,
But start out bravely with a gallant smile;
And for my sake and in my name
Live on and do all things the same
Feed not your loneliness on empty days
But fill each waking hour in useful ways
Reach out your hand in comfort and in cheer
And I in turn will comfort you and hold you near;
And never, never be afraid to die,
For I am waiting for you in the sky!
Helen Steiner Rice
When Tomorrow Starts without me
When tomorrow starts without me
and I'm not there to see.
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry
the way you did today, while thinking of
the many things, we didn't get to say
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
and each time you think of me
I know I'll miss you too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try to understand, an angel came
and called my name and took me by
the hand and said my place was ready
in heaven far above. And that I'd
have to leave behind all those I dearly love.
But as I turned to walk away a
tear fell from my eye, for all my life
I'd always thought I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for,
so much left to do
It seems almost impossible that I am
leaving you. I thought of all the
yesterdays, the good ones and the
bad and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday, just
even for a while, I'd say good-bye
and kiss you and maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized that this
could never be, for emptiness and
memories would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things,
I might miss come tomorrow, I
thought of you and when I did my heart
filled with sorrow. But when I walked
through heaven's gates, I felt so much
at home. When God looked down and
smiled at me, from his great throne,
He said: "This is eternity and all I've
promised, today your life on earth is past,
but here life starts anew. I promise
no tomorrow, but today will be the last.
And since each day's the same way
there's no longing for the past.
You have been so faithful, so trusting
and so true. Though there were times
you did some things you knew you
shouldn't do. But you have been
forgiven and now at last you're free.
So won't you come and take my hand
and share your life with me?
So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart.
For every time you think of me,
I'm right here in your heart.
--by Erica Shea Liupaeter
When we ask why?
God's purpose and plans, sometimes concealed,
But someday his purpose will be revealed.
Someday God's wisdom will make it very plain,
Why problems were permitted and how He uses his pain.
Things thought illogical, disease, tragedy and fear,
Will someday make sense, when God makes all things clear.
We'll see the Lord's purpose from the Lord's point of view,
And we'll know the answer, in way we never knew.
Until we are home with God, some answers must wait,
Until His plan unfolds, we'll live and walk by faith.
When We Share
WHEN WE SHARE
When we share laughter,
There's twice the fun;
When we share success,
We surpass what we've done.
When we share problems,
There's half the pain;
When we share tears,
A rainbow follows rain.
When we share dreams,
They become more real;
When we share secrets,
It's our hearts we reveal.
If we share a smile,
Then our love shows;
If we share a hug,
Then our love grows.
If we share with someone
On whom we depend,
That person becomes
Family or friend.
And what draws us closer
And makes us all care,
Is not what we have,
But the things that we share.
Where do Grandpaís Go?
I saw a little boy
at the gates of Wrigley Field one day
He took my arm and asked,
ďWhere do grandpas go when they pass away?Ē
ďMy mom and daddy told me
that is where my grandpa went.
But I really, really miss him
Ďcause I havenít seen him since.Ē
ďI knew that Grandpa wouldnít
miss an opening baseball game
He brought me here all of the time,
so this is where I came.Ē
ďBut Grandpa never showed up,
and I waited a whole day.
So do you know where grandpas go
when they pass away?Ē
I could see he was bewildered
and his eyes were full of tears.
So I tried to tell him something
that would calm all of his fears.
ďIím sorry you lost your grandpa,
but I think that you will find.
If you close your eyes and think of him,
youíll see him in your mind.Ē
ďAlthough your grandpa isnít here,
his soul lives on in heaven.
And he lives within your memories;
Itís like a gift weíre given.Ē
ďSo when you come out to the games,
just know heís here with you.
And soon youíll find youíre having fun,
not feeling quite so blue.Ē
I saw that little boy again
At another baseball game.
It was over three years later,
But he looked almost the same.
I heard him tell the vendor
ďIíll take two hot dogs from you.
One hot dog for me,
And Iíll take one for Grandpa too.Ē
Copyright Lois Dean
Printed with Permission
Words Left Unsaid!
I didn't get to say "goodbye",
And all the words I wanted you to hear.
I should have said them when I had my chance,
But I thought that you would always be near.
I ran out of time to let you know,
Just how much you meant to me.
I should have told you, but I thought you knew,
But now I will never know, if you really did see.
When l talk to you in my prayers at night,
I hope you can hear all I have to say.
I would have told you, if only I could,
Have had you back for one more day.
Perhaps there were words you wanted to say also,
That were left unsaid by you.
But I do know that you loved me,
As you knew that I loved you too.
We should always say what we feel in our heart,
As tomorrow may never come.
Speak those words today as you feel them,
And never lose your chance to tell someone.
By Pamela Hall
YOU ARE NEVER FORGOTTEN
You are somebody that everybody knows
Wherever you are is where everyone goes
And I can't help but think about what I do now
Will I see you someday, will I find you somehow
The night follows day, the moon in the sky
The world keeps on turning and no one knows why
It goes and it comes it comes and it goes
Which ever direction nobody knows
Our times together though cut short were precious and dear
However it happened just may never be clear
I'm here but your gone I don't understand
But your leading the way always holding my hand
The night is too black those times I'm alone
The road seems to long, I wish you'd come home
And when the sun rises I look for you still
And then I remember and remember I will
The wind in the sails water covers the earth
The day of your birth and the day of your death
Mile after mile and after while the warmth of your heart
The shine of your smile they keep me going
The memories of love that's all I have left like the flight of a dove
Where are you now? Are you far, are you near?
Are you helping me live will you help make it clear
Wherever your going where ever you've been
Whomever you've known all of your friends
We all stand beside you we all love you still
We're missing you now and forever we will
We sing and we talk the world in our hands
We run and we walk while beside us you stand
For those who remain never let your love wait
When they're no longer here it's always too late
So we roll the days over again and again
And where we have ended, it's where we begin
And Yes -- stars they come and light -- yes they bring
The miracle of life a beautiful thing
We know not where we're goin' we just know where we've been
The days we shared together the memories that will never end