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ANGEL POETRY

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 you'll miss me too;
But when tomorrow starts without me, please try to understand,
that 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 life, I'd always thought I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for and so much yet to do,
it seemed almost impossible that I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays, the good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday, I thought, just for awhile,
I'd say goodbye 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 wordly things that I'd miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did, my heart was 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 golden throne,
He said, "This is eternity and all I've promised you".
Today for life on earth is past but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow, but today will allways last,
and since each day's the same day, there's no longing for the past.
But you have been so faithful, so trusting, 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 your'e free.
So won't you take my hand and share my life with me?
So when tomorrow starts without me, don't think we're far apart,
for everytime you think of me, I'm right here in your heart.

author unknown..

Past The Cover

The beauty of a woman,
isn't in the clothers she wears,
The figure that she carries,
or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman,
must be seen from in her eyes,
Because that's the doorway to her heart,
the place where love resides.

The beauty of a woman,
isn't in a facial mole,
but true beauty in a woman,
is reflected by her soul.

It's the caring that she cares to give,
the passion that she shows,
And the beauty of a woman,
with passing years, only grows.

Author Unknown


A Little Child Shall Lead
by Carol Sanborn

"Dear Santa." said the letter that
Was slowly being read,
"I seem to have a lot of time
To think...... while I'm in bed;

"And so I thought I'd write to you,
As I do every year;
I hope you're well and happy now
That Christmas is so near.

"It won't be very long until
You'll soon be on your way
To leave the presents that will make
A happy Christmas Day.

Now if you think that I was good,
And goodness knows I've tried...
I have a small suggestion,tho
I know you must decide

"I've heard about the shortages
The world is facing now......
But if we all would share a bit.
It might just help somehow.

"So Santa, if you should be short
Of Christmas Dolls this year,
I thought I'd say " My last years doll is
precious and is dear;

"And really since she's almost new,
It has occured to me
You really wouldn't have to leave
A new one 'neath the tree

" Instead, perhaps, you just might leave
A doll for Mary Dove
who's also in the childrens ward
and needs a doll to love"

"She says her parents told her that,
with all their bills to pay,
That they'd be lucky just to buy
the food for Christmas Day!"

" So please, dear Santa don't forget
To stop for Mary too;
And then she'll have a doll or toy
And she won't feel so blue.

"I'm tired now, but Santa dear,
I have not finished yet.
Tomorrow I'll continue so
My nurse won't be upset"

But the letter, still unfinished,
Ne'er reached old Santa's hand.....
Though the young girls parents found it
on her little bedside stand.

With dampened eyes they packed it with
Their daughters other things;
But somehow, this poignant letter
Helped soothe away deaths sting.

Then just before the parents left,
They stopped a nurse to say
"Please give this doll to Mary Dove,
From Santa.....Christmas Day!"

"And should there be another child
That Santa might pass by
Please let us know, so we can add
to Santa's short supply!"

The nurse who'd seen the letter said
"God bless you for this deed........
In life and death you daughter proved
A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD...

GIVE THE PRECIOUS GIFT OF YOURSELF TO A CHILD TODAY !

Children Learn What They Live


If a child lives with criticism,
He learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility,
He learns to fight.
If a child lives with ridicule,
He learns to be shy.
If a child lives with shame,
He learns to feel guilty.
If a child lives with tolerance,
He learns to be patient.
If a child lives with encouragement,
He learns confidence.
If a child lives with praise,
He learns to appreciate.
If a child lives with fairness,
He learns justice.
If a child lives with security,
He learns to have faith.
If a child lives with approval,
He learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance, and friendship,
he learns to find love in the world.
~ author unknown ~


The Last Day Of School" - By Roy Exum

When Tony Campolo was in Chattanooga last week to speak at the annual "Gathering of Men" breakfast, the noted sociologist told a story that begs to be repeated.

It seems that there was a lady named Jean Thompson and when she stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the fall, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn’t play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkempt and that he constantly needed a bath. Add to it the fact Teddy was unpleasant.

It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold ‘X’s and then marking the ‘F’ at the top of the paper biggest of all.

Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, nobody else seemed to enjoy him, either. Now at the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s records and because of things, put Teddy’s off until the last. But, when she opened his file, she was in for a surprise.

His first-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh. He does work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student and is well-liked by his classmates -- but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn’t show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken."

Teddy’s fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on Teddy Stoddard on that last day before the vacation would begin. Her children brought her presents, all in gay ribbon and bright paper, except for Teddy’s, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissored grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents and some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet, with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and she dabbed some of the perfume behind the other wrist.

At the end of the day, as the other children joyously raced from the room, Teddy Stoddard stayed behind, just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to." As soon as Teddy left, Mrs. Thompson knelt at her desk and there, after the last day of school before Christmas, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading and writing and speaking. Instead, she began to teach children. And Jean Thompson paid particular attention to one they all called "Teddy".

As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive.The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded and, on days that there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the class and...well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he’d had in elementary school she was his favorite.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. And then he wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, that he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite teacher but that now his name was a little longer. And the letter was signed, "Theodore F. Stoddard, M. D."

The story doesn’t end there. You see, there was yet another letter that Spring. Teddy said that...well, that he’d met this girl and was to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering...well, if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

You’ll have to decide yourself whether or not she wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. But, I bet on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like... well, just like she smelled many years before on the last day of school before the Christmas Holidays began.

Monsters are for real

On Monday, Billy didn't have his homework
And when the teacher asked him why
He said, "Because a monster ripped it up,
After I told him a lie."

"You know monsters don't exist,
And if you don't turn in your homework
No recess you will get

On Tuesday, Billy had a stomachache
And when the teacher asked him why
He said, "A monster took away my dinner,
even my cherry pie."

"Billy, I've told you once before,
Monsters are not real.
You'll have to wait till lunchtime
Before you get a meal."

On Wednesday, Billy had a bandage,
Which covered his right eye.
When the teacher asked him how it happened,
This was his reply:

"A monster was running after me
When I ran into the door:"
"Billy please," the teacher said,
"I don't want to hear any more."

On Thursday, Billy refused to sit down,
And when the teacher asked him why,
Billy said, "A monster whipped my bottom,
Because I started to cry,"

"Billy, said the teacher,
" this is getting out of hand,
And if you continue with these stories,
In the corner you will stand."

On Friday, Billy didn't come to school,
And when the teacher found out why,
She said a little prayer to God
In hopes Billy would survive.

For a monster had beaten Billy
and threatened him with a knife.
Now Billy lay in a hospital bed,
Fighting for his life.

So teachers please remember,
That monsters are for real.
Listen closely to kids stories,
A wounded heart you may heal.

Author Unknown...The Pain To Children All To Real

Angels Unaware

It was a rainy night in New Orleans;
At a bus station in the town,
I watched a young girl weeping
As her baggage was taken down.

It seems she'd lost her ticket
Changing buses in the night.
She begged them not to leave her there
With no sign of help in sight.

The bus driver had a face of stone
And his heart was surely the same.
"Losing your ticket's like losing cash money,"
He said, and left her in the rain.

Then an old Indian man stood up
And blocked the driver's way
And would not let him pass before
He said what he had to say.

"How can you leave that girl out there?
Have you no God to fear?
You know she had a ticket.
You can't just leave her here.

You can't put her out in a city
Where she doesn't have a friend.
You will meet your schedule,
But she might meet her end."

The driver showed no sign
That he'd heard or even cared
About the young girl's problem
Or how her travels fared.

So the old gentleman said,
"For her fare I'll pay.
I'll give her a little money
To help her on her way."

He went and bought the ticket
And helped her to her place
And helped her put her baggage
In the overhead luggage space.

"How can I repay," she said,
"the kindness you've shown tonight?
We're strangers who won't meet again
A mere ' 'thank you ' doesn't seem right."

He said, "What goes around comes around.
This I've learned with time - -
What you give, you always get back;
What you sow, you reap in kind.

Always be helpful to others
And give what you can spare;
For by being kind to strangers,
We help angels unaware."

Author Unknown


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