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rodferbrache.com

Nature and Faith in Images and Words

I've dreamed many dreams...

 

I've dreamed many dreams that never came true,
I've seen them vanish at dawn,
But I've realized enough of my dreams thank the Lord,
To make me want to dream on,

I've prayed many prayers when no answer came,
Though I've waited patient and long,
But answers have come to enough of my prayers,
To make me keep praying on,

I've trusted many a friend that failed,
And left me to weep alone,
But I've found enough of my friends that are really true,
That will make me keep trusting on.

I've sown many seeds that have fallen by the way,
For the birds to feed upon,
But I've held enough golden sheaves in my hand,
To make me keep sowing on.

I've drunk from the cup of disappointment and pain,
I've gone many days without song,
But I've sipped enough nectar from the Roses of Life,
To make me keep living on!

 

 

I wish I had picked more daisies!

 

Written by an anonymous 89 year old woman.

If I had my life to live over,
I would dare to make more mistakes next time.
I would relax, limber up.
I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
I would take fewer things seriously and take more chances.
I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets.
I would, perhaps, have more actual troubles but I would have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I am one of those people who live sanely, sensibly, prudently; hour after hour, day after day.
Oh, I have had my moments!
And if I had to do it over again, I would have more of them
Maybe I would have nothing else?
Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.
I have been one of those people who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.

If I had it to do it over, I would travel lighter on the next trip.
I would start going barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
I wouldn't make such good grades, except by accident.
I would have more sweethearts.
I would go to more dances.

I would sing more songs and play more games.
I would ride more merry-go-rounds.
I'd pick more daisies.

If I had my life to live over. 

Not Too High A Price (For Something Quite Free) 

 

Some say the birth of a new baby,
Brings them a joy, no one can measure.
But a child raised to be a blessing to others,
This is to me, an abundant treasure.

Some decide on their own value,
By how many call them a friend.
I count on two hands those who laugh with me,
Yet, how blessed I am by these ten.

Everyone says they seek peace,
For themselves and all those around.
Some think peace is just around the corner,
Others say it will never be found.

But peace is a jewel, a real diamond,
In the hand of him that holds it fast.
And peace within comes from giving God the control,
Of your future, your present, and your past.

To have these grand things in your possession,
You must be willing to give of yourself.
To give up buying all that is worthless,
To make some more room on your shelf.

Learn to cherish the gifts God has given you,
To give God the place He has earned.
To love your family and friends with all of you,
To hold dearly to all you have learned.

Do not think it is too high a price,
For something that is really quite free!
Give from inside yourself, and not from without,
Fulfilment is found in who you can be.

Written by Holly Howard

 

The Tongue: 

 

It is an extremely dangerous weapon,
And it has an extreme role to play.
We weld the power to heal and to hurt,
With every single word we say.

That person is so not like us we think,
He does things in a different way.
Should we tear him down and crucify him?
Or find out what he has to say?

This one here has made a mess of his life,
He lives in squalor and in sin.
It is a mess of his own making,
Shall we kick him out or let him in?

You look down your nose on others,
You know you're so much smarter than they.
You can see their every flaw so perfectly,
Blind to tactfulness you portray.

Everyone is made by God,
Everyone has something to share.
Everyone is worthy of respect,
Are your criticisms just and fair?

Written by Holly Howard 

 

The Race...D H Groberg (My all time favourite)

 

 "Quit! Give up! You're beaten!"

They shout at me and plead.

 "There's just too much against you now.

This time you can't succeed!"

And as I start to hang my head

In front of failure's face

My downward fall is broken by

The memory of a race.

 

And here refills my weakened will

 As I recall that scene

For just the thought of that short race

Rejuvenates my being.

 A children's race:

Young boys, young men

How I remember well.

Excitement, sure! But also fear.

It wasn't hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope

Each thought to win that race.

Or tie for first, or if not that

At least take second place.

 

And fathers watched from off the side

Each cheering for his son

And each boy hoped to show his dad

That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went

Their hearts and hopes afire.

To win and be the hero there

Was each young boy's desire.

And one boy in particular

Who's dad was in the crowd

Was running near the lead and thought:

"My dad will be so proud."

 

But as they speeded down the field

Across a shallow dip

The little boy who thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hand flew out to brace

And 'mid the laughter of the crowd

He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope –

 He couldn't win it now –

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

To disappear somehow.

 

But as he fell his dad stood up

And showed his anxious face

Which to the boy so clearly said:

"Get up and win the race."

He quickly rose, no damage done. –

Behind a bit that's all –

And ran with all his mind and might

To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself –

To catch up and to win –

His mind went faster than his legs:

He slipped and fell again!

 

He wished then he had quit before

With only one disgrace

"I'm hopeless as a runner, now;

I shouldn't try to race."

But in the laughing crowd he searched

And found his father's face.

That steady look which said again:

"Get up and win the race."

So up he jumped to try again –

Ten yards behind the last –

"If I'm to gain those yards," he thought

"I've got to move real fast."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Exerting everything he had

He regained eight of ten

But trying so hard to catch the lead

He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay there silently –

A tear dropped form his eye –

"There's no sense in running anymore"

"Three times; I'm out; Why try?"

The will to rise had disappeared

All hope had fled away

So far behind; so error prone

A loser all the way.

"I've lost, so what's the use," he thought

"I'll live with my disgrace"

But then he thought about his dad

Who soon he'd have to face.

"Get up" an echo sounded low

"Get up and take your place,

You were not meant for failure here

Get up and win the race."

"With borrowed will get up," it said

"You haven't lost at all

For winning is no more than this:

To rise each time you fall

 

So up he rose to run once more

And with a new commit

He resolved that win or lose

At least he wouldn't quit.

So far behind the others now –

The most he'd ever been –

Still he gave it all he had

And ran as though to win.

Three times he's fallen, stumbling,

Three times he rose again

Too far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end

 

They cheered the winning runner

As he crossed the line first place

Head high, and proud, and happy

No falling; no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line last place

The crowd gave him the greatest cheer

For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last

 With head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he’d won the race

 To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said

"I didn't do so well,"

"To me, you won," his father said

"You rose each time you fell."

 

And now when things seem dark and hard

And difficult to face

The memory of that little boy

Helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race

With ups and downs and all

And all you have to do to win

Is rise each time you fall.

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!"

They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says:

"Get up and win the race!" -

fall."

 

 

 

A Pile of Pills...author unknown.

A row of bottles on my shelf
Caused me to analyze myself.

One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it won't stop.

 

A little white one that I take
Goes to my hands so they won't shake.

The blue ones that I use a lot
Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.

 

The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain.

The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze.

 

The red ones, smallest of them all
Go to my blood so I won't fall.

The orange ones, very big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night.

 

Such an array of brilliant pills,
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.

But what I'd really like to know...........
Is what tells each one where to go!

 

Don't Quit...author unknown

 

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low, and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow,
You may succeed with another blow.

Success is failure turned inside out,
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far.
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit,
It's when things seem worse that you must not quit.

You are who you are for a reason....by Russel Kelfer

 

 

You are who you are for a reason.

You’re part of an intricate plan.

You’re a precious and perfect unique design,

Called God’s special woman or man.

 

You look like you look for a reason.

Our God made no mistake.

He knit you together within the womb,

You’re just what He wanted to make.

 

The parents you had were the ones He chose,

And no matter how you may feel,

They were custom-designed with God’s plan in mind,

And they bear the Master’s seal.

 

No, that trauma you faced was not easy,

And God wept that it hurt you so;

But it was allowed to shape your heart,

So that into His likeness you’d grow.

 

You are who you are for a reason,

You’ve been formed by the Master’s rod.

You are who you are, beloved,

Because there is a God!

 

Indispensable…….Not!...by Saxon N. White Kessinger

     Sometimes when you’re feeling important;
    Sometimes when your ego’s in bloom
    Sometimes when you take it for granted
    You’re the best qualified in the room,

    Sometimes when you feel that your going
    Would leave an unfillable hole,
    Just follow these simple instructions
    And see how they humble your soul;

    Take a bucket and fill it with water,
     Put your hand in it up to the wrist,
     Pull it out and the hole that’s remaining
     Is a measure of how you’ll be missed.

    You can splash all you wish when you enter,
    You may stir up the water galore,
    But stop and you’ll find that in no time
    It looks quite the same as before.

    The moral of this quaint example
    Is do just the best that you can,
    Be proud of yourself but remember,
    There’s no indispensable man.

 

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