Many will be shocked to find,
When the day of judgment nears,
That there’s a special place
In heaven set aside for volunteers.
Furnished with recliners,
Satin couches and footstools,
Where there’s no committee chairman,
No group leaders or car pools.
No eager team that needs a coach,
No bazaar and no bake sale.
There will be nothing to staple,
Not one thing to fold or mail.
Telephone lists will be outlawed,
But a finger snap would bring,
Cool drinks and gourmet dinners,
And rare treats fit for a king.
You ask who’ll serve the privileged few
And work for all they’re worth?
Why, all those who reaped the benefits
And not once volunteered on earth.
When your love has melted and mingled
Two beings into an angelic and sacred unity
Then the secret of life is found for them
Then they are but two wings of a single spirit
May your love soar.
I went to the Garden of Love
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And “Thou Shalt Not”, writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore,
And I saw it filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.
Experience is the hardest teacher. It gives you the test first and the lesson afterward. ~Vernon Law~
It’s what you learn after you know it all that counts. ~ John Wooden~
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations,
That is known as the Children’s Hour.
I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.
A whisper and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.
A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!
They climb up into my turret
O’er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.
They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!
Do you think, o blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not match for you at all!!
I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.
And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~
It’s so easy to get caught up in the mundane…
The answer to do you love me isn’t,
I married you, didn’t I?
Or, can’t we discuss this after the ball game is through?
It isn’t, well that all depends on what you mean by ‘love’.
Or even, come to bed and I’ll prove that I do.
The answer isn’t,
How can I talk about love when the bacon is burned,
And the house is an absolute mess,
And the children are screaming their heads off,
And I’m going to miss my bus.
The answer is yes.
The answer is yes.
The answer is yes.
For Jane, I miss you every day….
A million times we’ve thought of you
A million times we’ve cried.
If love alone could have saved you,
You never would have died.
In life we loved you dearly,
In death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place
No one could ever fill.
It broke our hearts to lose you
But you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God took you home.
This is National Forest Week in Canada to raise awareness of this valuable and renewable resource…
God wrote the loveliest poem on the day He made the first tall, silver poplar tree. ~Grace Noll Crowell~
He drew a circle that shut me out –
Herectic, rebel, a thing to flout –
But love and I had the wit to win;
We drew a circle that took him in.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream–and not make dreams your master;
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run–
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!