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Chicken Soup for the Soul Salutes America's Heros
William Garvey
WILLYRAIN@aol.com
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Many of you know of my dream to share the story of the pumpkin I took to New York after 09-11 with all of America. That dream is getting closer, but I need your help. They still do not have the publisher convinced that their is enough interest in the book yet to go to press. Please if you would be so kind as to follow the link below and pre-order a copy. I also would ask that you forward it to your friends and if you own a site please post the link for me. I have hoped and prayed for many years to share the story and with your help it may soon become a reality. I have three stories in this book and I am sure they along with all the others will truly touch your heart. If you pre-order you will not be charged until the book is shipped. Thank you for your help!
To order "Chicken Soup for the Soul Salutes America's Heros go to: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0757302688/qid=1115085668/sr=8-2/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i2_xgl14/002-1390828-8628805?v=glance&s=books&n=507846

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Poet Works Press
PoetWorks Press@aol.com
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PoetWorks Press announces a call for poetry submissions for their next anthology PASSINGS to be released in the Fall/Winter, 2005. This anthology will touch emotions that each of us, at one time or another, must deal with. The subject is delicate and as individual as the poetry that will ultimately be selected for inclusion. Each of us have our own unique manner of dealing with the passing of a loved one, be it a parent, a spouse, a close friend or a child. We seek well written, intelligible verse that conveys the myriad emotions that a person may deal with after the passing of a loved one. We will tastefully select well written poems that touch the human spirit and embody a universality that transcends our mortal boundaries.
For more information please use the following URL: Information
The URL for submissions is: Submissions

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Celebrating Men
MoneyWILL Buy Happiness
Mark Crider
mark@cccoating.com
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I was helping to unload some food from the back of my pickup at P.A.L.S. , our animal rescue place, when I looked into the reception area. There were three couples talking to the director. Their four children were, I knew not who belonged to who, were running around looking at all the cats and puppies, squealing with delight at all the offerings.

I could tell the kids would have taken everything there if they had things their way. I love to get in on these moments so I eased into where I could hear what was transpiring.

Chris was telling them the adoption costs which includes all shots and spay/neutering. $35.00 for a kitty, $60.00 for a puppy under three months and $70.00 for a dog over three months old because we give them rabies shots.

I've done this before, keep in mind.

"Chris, have you told them about the money back special on the older dogs?" I said winking. She always takes the clue even though she doesn’t have a clue about what I'll come up with from time to time. She goes along knowing I'll make good on whatever scheme I ply on the adopters.

"Ladies, gentlemen, children, today we have a money back offer on our older dogs of your choice. You pay today and one year from now you bring them back for their shots and checkup and get your money back. CAN you beat a deal like THAT!?" I said sounding like a used car salesman.

The whooping started; the kids were really tugging at mom and dad now. There was no getting out of taking a pet home. Chris cringed and went into the office.

"Come outside to the kennels and let’s see just what we can come up with." I said while the kids started really whooping it up, beating us all to the door. With the kids out there the dogs were ecstatic, rearing up licking through the wire, tails wagging, some bouncing on their hind legs happy to see kids again.

"Here we have a thoroughbred cross between a golden retriever and a shepherd, this is a gentle dog, GOOD with children and BAD with intruders once she settles down into her new home. And here we have another special cross, a lab and sheltie, it loves to retrieve(I hopefully speculated) so you will need lots of sticks and balls. AND here we have a racer so if you have bicycles or scooters you will have constant companionship." I ranted on and on showing them what we had available.

The kids wanted them all as they listened to my carnival style selling points.

One couple with the two kids got two and the other couples took one each. They bought collars and leashes as well as ordered name tags since the kids had already named their new family members before the deals had been finished.

They paid and we told them that they will get a checkup notice in the mail a year from now so they will have to come in for their refunds and to enjoy their new friends.

I told Chris to call me next year when they are scheduled to come in and we'll settle up. Who said money can't buy happiness? Liar liar, pants on fire!

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Celebrating America’s Military
I Stand Before You
Roger Rocicheau
poeticplumber@hotmail.com
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I stand before you all today
But not one eye can see my way

My time arrived, to leave this earth
A fact so planned, to every birth

It happened where I had to go
My torch for life was so aglow

I transferred while in uniform
Protecting freedom, through a storm

Should I resent I died for you
Not on my life, red white and blue

Please help my family through each day
Tell all my friends, try not to stray

And of the country I did love
Do think of me, through God above

Your memories, brought forth this day
Send love to us, who could not stay

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Choosing Joy
Watch the Children
Joseph J. Mazzella
joecool@wirefire.com
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I just love weekday afternoons in May. It is during this special time that I get to see one of the most wonderful sights in the world. It is a sight that teaches me again and again about what life truly is all about. I get to see it mainly when I go to pick up my youngest son from school. I can even hear it as I get out of my car. Its musical and magical sound floats happily through the air from the playground just off the preschool building. It is the sound of children at play.

Each day just before I pick up my boy I take in this glorious and happy sight of the preschool children having one last recess before they go home. Many of the parents are there as well smiling as they watch that special joy that their children are creating. I look on as one happy boy swings and calls out for his teacher to watch. I see two smiling girls skip, laugh, and gather handfuls of dandelions to give their Moms. I watch as two boys ride the rocking horses with all the energy and delight that their little hearts can muster. I smile upon seeing a girl hanging upside down from the miniature money bars and giggling at the whole world. As I get my own son he too runs for the swing set for one last ride as well before we head home. He may have the body of a 12 year old, but he still has the bliss of a child’s heart, mind, and soul.

These beautiful children remind me everyday that life truly is about joy, laughter, and love. Anything else is just details. We may all have to go to our jobs, clean our homes, raise our families, and take care of all the tasks in life. Still, there is no reason we can’t do all these things with love, laughter, and joy. In fact the only thing we should take seriously in this life is the love and joy that we choose and share. It is what makes life worth living and it is God’s greatest gift to us all. Cherish that gift then. Rejoice in it. Share it with the world. And if you don’t think you can remember how to then stop by a playground one day and watch the children.

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Champion
Roger Dean Kiser, Sr
trampolineone@webtv.net
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"Hey! Look at this. I think it's made out of real honest to goodness gold." said Tommy Jernigan, as he held up the trophy that he had discovered in the large garbage dumpster.

"That can't be real gold. No/ body's going to throw away something made out of real gold," said one of the other boys who lived in the orphanage with us.

Boys of ten and eleven-years of age, we had decided to run away from the Children’s Home Orphanage, to venture out into a new world to find safety.]

The five of us closely gathered around Tommy so that we could see the inscribed on the trophy.

"You are truly a champon," read the plaque, which was attached to the wooden part of the base.

"What's a champon?" asked one of the boys.

"It's a horse. I seen it on TV," another boy replied.

"Why would someone give a horse a trophy?" asked Robert.

No one said a word. We just stood there looking at the beautiful shiny trophy.

"Can I help you boys?" said someone, walking up from behind us.

We turned to see a large man walking towards us.

"What you got there?" asked the man

Tommy tried to hide the trophy behind him.

"It's a champon trophy," said Tommy, pulling the trophy, from behind him, and holding it toward the stranger.

"Is this made out of real gold?" asked Tommy.

"I don't think so," said the man, smiling, as he spoke.

"Let me see what you have there." He told Tommy.

The man took the trophy from Tommy's hands and he stood there carefully looking at it.

"Well boys. The word "champion" has been misspelled. That's evidently why someone threw it trophy away."

"Is a champon a horse on TV?" asked Emmett.

"I don't know about that. This kind of "champion" means that you are good at doing something very special. Things [like baseball or swimming.

"Is it ok if we have it?" asked Tommy.

"I don't see why not." said the man, as he handed the plaque back to Tommy.

We took the trophy back to the orphanage where we kept it in our underground fort. There were days when we would light a small fire, made from leave, just so that we could see the trophy glimmer its golden color.

Once a week we would have a foot race to determine which one of us boys would get to sit the trophy. It would sit in front of the winner of the race, when we held our meetings inside the fort.

In more than ten years in the orphanage, I cannot recall one time when any of us kids, were told that we were special, or that we were loved. However, I do remember winning that gold trophy many times, as do the other boys who were there with me. We boys will forever remember the pride that came from that little golden trophy. A worthless piece of metal and wood found in an old garbage dumpster. A worthless trophy that gave us kids a little bit of a head start in life, by letting us boys know the feeling that we too could one day grown up be "Champons".

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Reporting from Rainbow Bridge
Tinker & Poo
tinkerpoo2000@yahoo.com
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Annie, Tink and I just got back with Princess. Princess was giving us a ride about the place, what a ride it was. One of the Dollie Angels got a nice blanket, Princess said it is either that or we got to get a toe nail clip job. Well we need the toe nails to hang on. Now Princess did a little talking as she trotted along. Told how and what her tricks was with Sandy. Like running through the trees and low branches and taking fast sharp turns Poor Sandy was always hanging on for dear life. But now she didn't do that to Annie. Besides Annie is little.

Princess stopped under an apple tree, we stood up on her back and picked a few nice apples, had a sack full for later. Those were for Princess to nibble on; you know how horses like an apple, that and a lump of sugar.

When we got back that Baker gang, wanted to know when their turn came for a ride. Princess said later, she had her fun for a while. You remember Ma Bakers gang.? Kathy Baker!! Those would be Festus, Tiffany, Jack, Maggie, Josey, those are the Schnauzers, and them two yappers Fang, and Fancy, the Yokies.. Those Yorkies never shut up yapping about something. They all said they had good on the job training, Kathy always done a lot of talking. But she never let them get on the computer like we did. Something about it was all hers, and keep your paws off, she just never gave them kids a chance. Well it was her loss, crazy woman.. Who know that gang might have kicked out a best seller too like we did. Poo said well Tink it hasn't hit the market, seems them people is a bit slow in getting it out, but any day now.

Well we got to take a short nap before lunch.

Bye for now. The Gang

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Cheap Therapy
A Difference in Perspective
Jim Spence
Smooth0262@aol.com
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It amazes me how extremely different one human being can be from another.

I’m not talking about the difference between a rich, white man in America and a poor, black sheep herder in Africa. I’m talking about the people we see every day, our friends and workmates; the people whose opinions we value and whose lives we think we understand, even if just a bit.

Case in point: I walked into the coffee room at work and found two of my workmates talking. I’ve known them both for 15 years or more, and trust their judgment on work issues. They were discussing cats, of all things. One of my workmates made the comment that someone had dropped a pregnant Siamese cat beside the road next to his house. And then he said something that made me take pause … and made me want to sit down and write this story. He said “it looks like the boys will have something to drop in the lake the next time we go fishin’”.

My heart sank when I heard those words; and what affected me the most was not the fact that he was talking about killing a mother cat and her newborn kittens. No, what made me stop dead in my tracks was the casual way that he said it.

He said those words as easily as he’d say “have a nice day” or “thank you”. He may as well have said “I’m going to make sure that those cats die, and guarantee that they suffer when they do”.

He’s going to drown cats. And he has no conception of what horror those cats are going to face as they take their last breath.

Oh sure, preach to me about the wicked life they’ll lead if they try to survive as feral cats. Point out the fallacy in my argument. Try to convince me that those cats are better off dying a nasty death then they are trying to live every day.

You may as well talk to the wall, because I’m not buying it.

They are cats; living, breathing animals; and they deserve a better fate than being thrown into a lake to thrash about for 30 seconds until their lungs fill with water and their little hearts stop beating.

If you really think an animal – ANY animal – deserves to die, there are better ways, more humane ways, to take its life. Drowning it is not one of those ways.

Besides, who’s to say that 1) this pregnant cat doesn’t belong to someone and it has just wandered off (as pregnant animals are wont to do), or 2) someone would be more than happy to adopt this cat and/or her kittens?

If someone DOES own this cat, they are certainly mourning their loss.

But not nearly as much as this poor, pregnant animal is going to mourn the loss of her kittens … and her own life.

Someone has to do something.

This cat deserves a chance. I’m not sure how much of a chance she or her kittens will have, but taking them to the animal shelter is the least that any human being can do. The shelter will see that her kittens are born healthy, that the mother will be able to feed her newborns, to lick their tiny faces, to feel their hearts beating against her own breast.

And to make sure that some cruel son of a bitch doesn’t throw them in a lake like pieces of bait.

So, if you’ll excuse me … I’m someone; and I have to go pick up a poor, lost, pregnant mother cat and drive her to the animal shelter. She, and more importantly her kittens, may only have once chance at life, and I’m going to make damned sure that they get it.

If not me – then who?

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Perfectly Imperfect
Joseph B. Walker
valuespeak@msn.com
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The blow came hard and fast to my face. The unmentionable, unprintable word had barely escaped my lips when I felt the sting of my father’s open hand against my cheek.

We stood there, the three of us, unsure of what to do or what to say. We had never been in this situation before, so it wasn’t like we had precedent to guide us.

Mom had provoked me – or at least, in my teenage mind I thought she had. And that possibility is not completely unimaginable. Mom wasn’t Donna Reed, Harriet Nelson or any of the other TV Mothers Who Always Knew Best – or at the very least, better than their kids.

Mom didn’t wear a perfectly crisp house dress – she preferred moo-moos. Her toast wasn’t always a perfect golden brown – more often than not, it was a little black around the edges. She didn’t handle Dad perfectly, with kid gloves and a knowing wink – sometimes she gave him heck. And when her children needed discipline or correction, there were no parables, object lessons or perfectly chosen words – she read us the riot act. Sometimes . . . uh . . . shall we say, colorfully?

Which is what I remember happening that spring evening, although to be honest I’m a little fuzzy on the details. I just know that we were standing near the front door of the condominium in which we lived, and Mom and I were . . . you know . . . confronting. For some reason, Dad was hovering nearby, although as usual he wasn’t fully engaged in the conversation.

Until I called Mom a . . . um . . . well . . . you know . . . something awful.

Now, I don’t want you to think Mom and I were dysfunctional. We had a sweet relationship. I was her baby. She loved me, and I loved her. We were probably closer than most moms are with their 17-year-old sons. But occasionally all of that feeling bubbled over.

This time, however, I had crossed a line, and I knew it. I regretted it even before I finished saying it. So when Dad struck me – the first and only time I remember him ever doing so – I actually hurt more for what I had said than for what Dad had done.

There were tears in all of our eyes as we stood there – silently, uncertainly. Finally, I spoke. I looked at Dad and said: “I deserved that.”

“Yes,” he said, not harshly, “you did.”

I looked at Mom, whose tears were running freely down her cheeks. I expected to see anger and indignation on her face; instead, I saw hurt and anguish – as much for me as for her. I didn’t know what to say, so I walked to my room, threw myself on my bed – and said nothing.

Within a few minutes I heard my door opening. I almost smiled. Dad was so predictable.

“It’s OK, Dad,” I said without looking. “I understand why you had to do that. I was way out of line.”

“Yes, you were.” I was startled to hear Mom’s emotion-choked voice. “You know better than that. But I was out of line, too, and I’m sorry.”

I turned to see her standing by my bed. Mom wasn’t usually one to apologize easily, so this extension of the peace pipe was . . . disconcerting. “Mom, I should never . . .”

She held up a hand to stop me. “You’re right – you shouldn’t,” she said firmly. “And Dad shouldn’t have handled it the way he did, and he’ll need to apologize to you for that. But I was part of the problem, too. And for that, I just want to apologize.”

I looked at Mom a little differently from that day on. So what if she wasn’t like all of those TV moms, who were all so calm, so cool and so incapable of making mistakes? She was like me. She was real. She was human. Which in my mind made her . . . you know . . . perfect. For me.

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Tales Out of School
Strings Attatched
Vance Agee
vgagee@adelphia.net
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Most of us who write for literary sites focus on the wonderful deeds of others -- as it should be! However, not every act of kindness is done by “others”. Some are done by us, but they still must be shared! Who then is to share them? Most of us do not claim angelic status. Of course, the meaning of angel is from the Greek, and simply is “one sent”. On occasion, we must be sent to do something for someone in need, and our simple act is still an example to share. This is such a story.

About 15 years ago, while an assistant high school principal, a student came to me with a problem. She played cello. Cello. Quite large. Her cello just would not safely fit on the school bus! Now, I could have formed a committee to study this for a few months. However, she lived in my subdivision. There was an answer -- but it had the obvious problem and dumb joke: “strings attached”.

Nevertheless, that was the answer. Each day during which she played cello at school (seems like many), I stopped at her house, stuffed this thing into my car and took it to school -- part of the task. Then I took it out and -- at 5’8” and 155 pounds -- crossed an often windy campus with cello in hand and under arm, etc.! It made a great sail, had I needed one. I generally made it into the building. Or some building. On one snowy day, I slid into my neighbor’s ditch. However, a plank got me out. Cello and car both safe.

Please do not think that there is no justice! My daughter was taking violin and was rather good. Her music teacher offered to take her on as a special (right!) cello player! However, my daughter did not want to practice so early in the day. She chose -- please note (bad humor) -- she chose to learn flute! Flute! Hurrah! I was rewarded.

But in all seriousness, the best part is this. At the end of my “attached strings” lay beautiful music, made by the skilled fingers of a lovely student.

Perhaps, we should all listen for the beautiful music at the ends of our own “attached strings”?

Is there not music at the end of every good deed?

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Where Angels Walk
Joan Anderson
joan@joanwanderson.com
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It was the end of harvest. Twenty-three-year-old Joanie had just come home from a job interview in town when her sister met her. "Dad needs you out in the field to help bail the rest of the hay," Joanie's sister told her. So Joanie hurried into the house to exchange her business clothes for jeans. When she met her dad, he had almost finished, but the wagon was full---225 bails. "We decided to take the wagon back to the barn to unload," Joanie says. "But as I drove the tractor, the bailer, and the full wagon of hay towards the barn I started to get nervous. It was a huge load, and I didn't want to damage anything. I asked my father to take over."

Joanie and her father exchanged places, and she went around the front of the tractor to say "hello" to her father's girlfriend, Ann, who was standing near the fence. "I tripped over something, and Ann tried to grasp me, but she lost her grip," Joanie says. "I grabbed the corner of the wagon, and the next thing I knew, I was under it!"

Ann screamed, but Joanie's father couldn't stop in time. Before anyone could react, the wagon---all one-and-a-half tons---rolled over Joanie. Joanie lay on the hard ground, as her father bent down to touch and reassure her. "Keep calm, honey, Ann went to call the doctor." He sounded like he was crying.

She was bleeding from the mouth, and could hardly breathe. What parts of her had the wheels crushed? "God," she whispered, "please don't let me be disabled.." Weakly, she turned her head to the side, and saw her sister running across the fields toward her, in bare feet. Right behind was the doctor. He must have gotten here very fast. Or perhaps she had been lying here for a long time. Ann was running too. And suddenly there was another woman, standing right next to Joanie. Joanie looked up. She must be hallucinating, probably dying. For the woman was her mother, who had died almost twenty years ago, when Joanie was just a small girl.

"Everything is going to be fine, Joanie," her mother said quietly. "You will not be hurt."

”Oh, Mama, I do hurt. Please don't go away…” But now the doctor was here, and people were beginning to reach toward her, to move her out from under the wagon. The vision of her mother was gone. Despite the exhausting day, Joanie's father went to church that evening, and lit a candle in thanksgiving. For although the massive wagon had rolled over her chest, his daughter had no broken bones, no damaged organs, no injuries at all. The doctor could not believe it. But to this day, Joanie knows that she was given a gift from heaven.

"We are not alone in this world," she says. "Angels and saints are out there to help us, and all we have to do is ask."

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New Writer
Patricia
The Quality of Life
shynvegas@yahoo.com
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I just received the latest Hearts with Soul Newsletter and it brought me back to the time that I first met Teri when I was working for your first web hosting company.

I remember spending hours on the phone with you teaching you and learning myself along the way on how to use the software to help you develop Hearts with Soul your dream into a reality.

I worked for that company for just over 5 years. During the last few months that I worked there my mother-in-law was diagnosed with cervical cancer. She lives in Salisbury, MA. The doctors wanted her to go into Boston, MA five days a week for radiation treatment at that same time she was undergoing chemotherapy. This would not have been too difficult to handle if my mother-in-law could drive to Boston. However, she has never driven a day in her life she always said that there are enough crazy people on the road we don’t need another one. My father-in-law suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome from the Vietnam War and his nerves were not up to the task of driving in the hectic traffic of Boston. My sister-in-law who lives at home and does not pay rent or anything just said that she said that she was not up to the commitment of driving her own mother 5 days a week for 6 weeks to Boston for treatment. You have no idea how angry I was.

I prayed that God would help me find a way to help her. After all her son and I are over 3,000 miles away. I called all over Massachusetts looking for help from a company that offers rides for the elderly that need assistance getting to doctors appointments and such. Can you believe that nothing like that exist in Massachusetts? I couldn’t. I even thought about hiring a car service to pick her up and take her back every day. That would cost me a minimum of 1,000 per week. That was obviously out of the question. I called churches to see if they had a transportation service. I called anyone and everyone and all the answers were the same. So unfortunately she would have to ride the train 4 hours each way. I felt horrible but there was nothing I could do.

Now mind you this is just one aspect of personal trial that is going on in my life at this time. While I am working for the web hosting company I had been promoted and downsized so many times that I did not know if I was coming or going. I kept telling myself that I could not AFFORD to leave this job because as I was promoted so was my pay. However, once all of this happed with my mother-in-law I realized that there is more to life than money and that the working environment that I was in was not good for me emotionally or physically or spiritually. I began quietly looking for another job. I could not find anything that was willing to pay me what I was making. I began to give up hope on finding something and was being to think that I was doomed to stay in a dead end job where I would never go anywhere because I was not part of the “in crowd” and I did not kiss the bosses butt.

Then one day something amazing happened. I got a call from the State Of Nevada. I had forgotten that I had even applied for that job. After all it had been over 6 months. They asked me if I wanted to come in for an interview and I told them that I would like to. I made the arrangements to take a personal day off from my current job and I went to the interview and I was interviewed by 4 people at the same time. I answered all of their questions and in the process of answering one of the questions one of the interviewers said can’t we just hire her now. I took that as a good sign. Although I was the 3rd of 60 interviews and 28 openings so you know how that goes. At the end of the interview they said that they would let me know the next week. The following Monday I received a phone call asking me if I would like to come and work for the State Of Nevada I told them immediately yes without hesitation or thought.

I spoke to my immediate supervisor and told her that with all that was going on with my mother-in-law and now with this job opportunity if I could take some personal time off. We are close friends and she knew what the company had put me through and knew how I was feeling. So I took a week off and began praying asking God if this is something that I should do. After all for me to leave my current job I would be loosing about 10.00 per hour and that is a lot of money especially when you have 2 teen age daughters. Well while I was off weighing the pros and cons of both jobs. My immediate supervisor called and said that there was a lot of stuff going on right now that she could not explain and that they were cutting everyone’s pay to 8.00 per hour. I said are you kidding me, she said no that I would go from being paid almost 20.00 an hour to 8.00 an hour. I told her that I would have to think about it and let her know. I told my husband what they were doing and he told me that it was time for me to leave. The decision had been made I was leaving the company that I had worked for, for so many years and moving on to a new job. Let me tell you it was one of the scariest things I had done in a very long time.

I began a grueling 10 week training session that I thought I would never get through but God helped me though that. I love my new job I go in and smile and make people happy and take care of their needs and help them solve their problems and then I go home at night and take care of my family.

At the end of last Summer my mother-in-law was given a clean bill of health. She is now cancer free. My husband and daughters say that I am a happier person since I have changed jobs.

The moral to this story is that: I learned a valuable lesson that money is not always the key factor in weather or not to keep a job. I left my old job and took almost a 10.00 an hour pay cut to go and work for the State of Nevada. While the pay is significantly less I am a much happier person and it has changed my home life as well as my spiritual life as well as my professional life. While I grant you the money was nice I was not working in the best conditions and there has to be something that is said for the quality of life as well.

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Prosperity Preaching Teaches Saints How to Live the Good Life
Don Lee
donjlee@bellsouth.net
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A while back, I was asked by a friend on her radio talk show to talk about prosperity preaching. I’ve shared this before, but I’d like to revisit it for readers who may have missed the series I wrote on the subject.

I addressed misconceptions many Christians have about (financial) prosperity messages and the preachers who teach them. Following are the questions and my responses to them concerning prosperity messages:

In some cases, people have taken litigious steps to complain that their ministers somehow bamboozled them. How would you respond to this?

To paraphrase 1st John 4:1, try (or judge) the spirit in the “prosperity ministers” by the Spirit that’s in you. In other words, God has a way of letting you know who’s truly sent of Him and who is a false prophet. The bottom line remains, as His Word says in Galatians 6:7, “Do NOT be deceived.” If God tells you not to be deceived, then you obviously have a choice — get wisdom/understanding or get “bamboozled.”

Another thing: When you’re sick and the doctor sends you home with a prescription (which costs you, by the way) and you don’t take the medicine he (or she) prescribed for you (and you remain sick as a result), does that mean the doctor “bamboozled” you?

By the way, concerning “litigious steps” some people may have taken against preachers who deliver prosperity messages: The true men (and women) of God may have weapons formed against them, but those weapons shall never be able to prosper.

PTL founder, and former president, Jim Bakker, while in prison after his fall from grace, was forced to re-evaluate his beliefs. He had nothing to lose at this point in his life. Perhaps, the loss of his ministry and his family gave him a unique perspective.

At any rate, while in prison, he had a lot of time to think, to study the Word, and to seek after God. In a recent book he wrote, he claims that during this time, he slowly came to certain disturbing conclusions. First that the prosperity theology he was known for, and which is still widely promoted in Charismatic circles, was a lie. He used the following scripture to support his point.

But Jesus said: Matthew 6:19-20 —
“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.”

Are we quickly becoming a group of Christians who are looking at God for what He can give us materially more than we are in thanksgiving for all that He has already given us? First of all, I hear too many folk use the phrase “fell from grace.” Let me reveal this mystery to you. A mass murderer or child molester or crooked preacher has only “fallen from grace” when death finds him with an unrepentant heart. If he still breathes, it’s because of grace. If he dies in his sin, then, he’s fallen from grace. For grace has run out. Now, about Jim Bakker: If Mr. Baker called prosperity messages a lie and tried to use Scripture to validate his point, then he, too, has allowed the enemy to gain a stronghold in his thought life.

In Matthew 6:19-20 the Lord Jesus was talking about seeking the kingdom of God FIRST. What good does it do to have mansions and lots of women and power and all of those things, yet when you die, your soul goes to an eternal hell because you knew not Jesus Christ?

The Lord, again, is not speaking against prosperity, even in this Scripture. He’s speaking against worshiping those (temporary) things that don’t have an eternal heaven or eternal hell to put you in rather than worshiping the (eternal) God, who says whether you make it into heaven or be cast into the flames of hell.

He’s talking about worshiping God, who can give you everything your heart desires (provided they’re in line with His divine will), rather than worshiping things, things that will pass away.

In the words of Bishop T.D. Jakes, in other words, “Why would you worship somethin' that you have to maintain rather than worshipin’ soemthin’ (God) that can maintain you?”

During the “prosperity preaching” series I wrote, someone e-mailed me telling me that they disagreed with what I’d been sharing. This person didn’t have any Scripture to support their argument. In fact, this person said (and I’m paraphrasing): “I disagree with what you’re saying. I admit I don’t study my Bible enough and I hadn’t really given this subject much thought until now. So after I do some more research, then I’ll be able to tell you why I disagree.”

That would’ve been the funniest thing I ever heard in my life if it weren’t already one of the saddest. This person admittedly tried to refute something without first doing some homework. People will embrace a lie in a heartbeat, and attack the truth just as quickly.

What such people need to do (for their own sake) is study the Word (get revelation), then refute those who’ve used deceit to hold them in bondage.

Be encouraged to prosper now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missouri Sage
A Strange Thing
Bill Walker
wildbill6897@yahoo.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something strange happened the other day, not only that, but I seen it happen twice with in the space of about five minutes. I remember when it was common place to see it, but it just isn't done much anymore. I was in shock almost to see it once, then again in such short time. This was a case of the man picked up the coat the lady belonged to, he held the coat for her to get into. I have seen that years ago, not of late, figured it was a dead art.

I said something the second time I seen it. The man said he always did that for his wife, and lady friend before wife. One could almost be sure that was lots of years ago, the part about lady friend. Maybe that was one reason he has a wife now, and one of the reasons found a wife.

We did talk a bit about it, his wife just smiled. I said, understand I never had a wife, can't say much about a real honest to goodness lady friend either. But I said, I think there is a few things a man should do. Maybe he said some of them also.

Door, it is nice to hold the door, let the lady go in first, and that isn't to see if it is safe to go in.

Carry, a man should carry packages, keep her hands free so she can buy more things she needs. Man's hat, or cap. Now to me this is a dead give away about respect a man has for his lady. Your dinning, makes no difference to me if it is the Ritz, or the hamburger joint. A man takes off what ever he has on his head, does he sleep with that thing on his dome? I remember mother saying take your hat, cap off in a building. I also remember army days, buster you better take it off.

I have to go back to the carry things. One time mother and I was visiting one of her sisters. We went to a store to buy some food stuff. Her men folk set in the car, husband and able bodied son. Mother, her and I went into the store. She picked out things, and paid for them, I picked up the sacks and got them to the car. When we got to the house, again I picked up the sacks and got them in the house. Husband and able bodied son walked in. She looked at me and said husband said he made the pay check, it was up to her to get the things in the house best way she knew how. My thinking was she should have said a long time ago. " I guess the food is still in the car, I haven't a thing in the house to cook."

I may be wrong, but I think it don't hurt for the lady of the house to say, "wait just one minute here buster." So what if the man of the house is in a hurry to get to the tube and watch his team win or lose another game. If he wants to eat he can get the sacks of food in the house. Either that or order up delivered hamburgers.

Walking, I notice this thing also. You walking along where ever with your lady. There is times she is ahead, or behind, There is good reasons for this, BUT. I believe in general a walk along the pathways of life. She walks beside you, not ahead, not behind. Some lady said something to me about this a few days ago. As a joke I said well I don't mind walking behind. She said something about swing in back yard. I understand in certain places, women walk behind, for what ever reason, I think it is called they are not on par with the man, or something on that order. I can't see that myself. Sure if there is reason he is leading the way, could be. But in my small mind she is on par with her man, maybe above par.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is Way Cool
Pam Blaine
pamyblaine@blaines.us
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

was looking through the newspaper when I saw her picture. It didn’t take but one glance to see that it was Karen. There was that same sweet smile that was unmistakably hers.

As I held the newspaper my mind went back to another time. It was several years ago when I had first met Karen. I was working with handicapped kids in a junior high school. Karen was a fun-loving girl and she liked to tell jokes to the other students. She was a favorite of the other pupils because of her cheerful and caring attitude.

My job was to help the kids with whatever they needed. I sometimes helped Karen with practical needs that came with living most of her life from within the confines of a wheelchair. Karen was intelligent and what she often asked me to do was to quiz her from her schoolbooks for tests or to help her reach the books that she needed from the library shelves. Karen was always kind and appreciative of anything that I did for her and I never went away without hearing a soft “Thank you” coming from her lips.

Karen had been born with Spina Bifida and over the years she had dealt with hospitalization, surgeries, and all kinds of problems but it didn’t affect her joyful attitude.

Sometimes while we were together we would talk about whatever was on her mind. Karen was like any teenaged girl in that she had her favorite movie stars and often talked about which boys were the cutest. She also talked about serious things such as what she wanted to be when she grew up or she would talk about her faith in God. Karen was passionate about everything that mattered to her and she never took things for granted but seemed to revel in whatever joy she found in the moment. In spite of her handicaps, life was a great adventure to her.

One day a new program began at school that was just the type of adventure I knew Karen would enjoy. Extra volunteers were found to help and every Friday the handicapped kids that wished to participate could go to the indoor pool in town and swim.

The first trip to the pool took a little time to get things organized to accommodate taking so many students but it wasn’t long until we arrived at the pool. Many of the kids needed individual help so there were parents and volunteers there to assist them. My job, along with others, was to watch the kids in the pool that could swim alone and to be sure they were doing okay.

I suited up and walked out of the locker room into the pool area and there was Karen. She was the first one in the pool! She was swimming and laughing at the same time and then she swirled around and stretched out on her back and floated.

I laughed and said, “Well, Karen, looks like you are having a great time!”

“This is WAY cool!” she said drawing out the words in the latest teen lingo that expressed something very enjoyable.

“Heaven must be like this!” She said enthusiastically.

“Look, I can go anywhere I want!” Karen said as she turned on her stomach and swam with her arms across the pool. Although her legs didn’t work, her arms were strong and propelled her wherever she wanted to go.

“Where did you learn to swim so well, girl?” I asked

Karen treaded water with her arms as she answered, “My Grandpa helped me learn. He calls me his little mermaid because he says I take to the water like a fish.”

“Well, he’s sure right about that,” I said as Karen swam over to where I stood.

Karen turned as she made big splashes in the pool and said, “See, I’m free!”

It was then that I understood why swimming was “WAY cool!” to Karen. It was the only time that she could feel a freedom of movement. She wasn’t bound to a chair, or a bed, neither was she being helped by someone else.

I looked back down at the newspaper I held as I came back from my thoughts of the past. I sat staring at her picture for a long time. Yes, it was Karen’s smiling face and I thought about how much I missed her uncomplaining attitude toward life and her sweet joyful spirit. I remembered how her life shined so brightly and blessed so many who knew her. Her handicap never stopped her from loving.

Before I put the newspaper down, I took one last look at Karen’s smiling face on the picture in the obituary page. That smile that came from heaven now returned there. I reflected again upon the words she had once said to me in the past. With tears in my eyes I began to smile because I could just hear Karen laughing and saying, “See, I’m free… and Heaven IS…WAY cool!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Meeting Place
James A. Henson
jahenson13@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I sat alone on the park bench, the dreariness of the overcast day only added to my hurt and bitterness. Surely no other individual had ever experienced the kind of low point that I had sunk into. It was as though I had fallen into a deep crevasse, with no rescue available.

A feeling of hopelessness enclosed me, as I reflected upon all the deficits in my life. All the failures, financial and emotional, paraded themselves before me as haunting reminders of the misery of my life. All the financial debts that I had incurred; all the broken promises to loved ones and friends were there taunting me. It was as though each were shouting, “You are a miserable failure; and that is all you will ever be.”

My watery eyes scanned the park area around the bench were I sat, buried in my despair; I saw no other person anywhere in the park. It was as though I was completely alone in my self-inflicted darkness. I lowered my head and covered my misty eyes with trembling hands. I remember thinking: I cannot continue my life this way…I’m completely at the end of myself! It was at this moment that my life was to completely change forever!

For some reason, I uncovered my eyes, and looked around; I had the strongest sense of someone’s presence. I was startled to see a man sitting on the bench beside me.

He was dressed in average manner; nothing to indicate affluence. He just sat and looked at me for what seemed an eternity before he spoke to me. I did not hear his first words, as my mind was trying to decide whether he was real, or just the apparition of a desperate man’s mind.

He was speaking again, and I could clearly hear him saying, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you looking for me," I asked?

“I will answer your last question; the others will answer themselves,” he said. “I have been looking for you because you have not looked for me; and because I have something you need.”

I sat for what seemed a long time, just looking into his deeply penetrating eyes. I could not find words to speak; I felt fear, and yet, I had no urge to take flight from my place on the cold, hard, wooden park bench. It was as though I was glued to the spot! More fear gripped me when his right hand went into his inside coat pocket. I truly expected that his hand would next appear holding a gun or knife! Still, I did not feel the necessity to run.

When he withdrew his hand from the coat pocket, it held not a weapon, but a light-blue, rectangular pad. The pad had writing on it. He held it toward me, and I realized that the “pad” was a checkbook.

“I have wanted to give this to you,” he said, in the most kind, gentle voice that I had ever heard.

“What is this,” I replied?

“In First Bank, here in your city, I have created an account in your name, and I have deposited an adequate sum in it. The amount is enough to cover all your debts, public and private, for the past, present, and the rest of your life.”

I truly believed that I was seeing a ghost sitting here before me; but I was hearing his voice also. He must have understood my anxiety, because, he placed the checkbook on the bench between us, and gently placed his right hand on my shoulder. I should have been frightened, but instead, a sense of extreme peace and calmness washed over my whole being.

“I am not here to frighten you, son. My desire is to give you access to this account, which I have created for you at First Bank.” So, he is real all right, I thought; a real fruitcake, a real prankster. This is all a real joke.

“Look…whoever you are. I have enough painful troubles of my own; I don’t have the time or the energy to entertain you. So, just go your way and leave me to my misery!”

“But son, it is your misery and despair that has brought me here. I have come to set you free from all of it.”

“Ok, mystery man, what’s the catch,” I asked? “What must I do to receive this ‘great benefit’ that you would bestow upon me?”

“There is no catch. This sum I would give to you is a free gift; all you must do is accept what I have done for you”

“I can’t believe this, mister. No one has that kind of power…the power to forgive all debts, past, present, and future.”

I turned my face away from him, thinking that when again I looked, he would have faded into the cold mist of the afternoon. I turned and he was still there looking at me…more intensely now, as I distinctly heard his reply: “ALL POWER HAS BEEN GIVEN TO ME!”

When I came to myself, I was kneeling on the ground beside “my” park bench. As my eyes opened, small, but sure rays of sunshine were breaking through the mist of the overcast day. There was something in my right hand; a checkbook…His checkbook! I began to page through the checks. Every one of the checks were made out to me and signed: Your Father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Janet West-Sellars
Author/Freelance Writer
Nicole Stevenson
Stevenson15N@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An extraordinary Woman!
First time author resides in Newport News , Virginia, she resolves workplace disputes for a federal agency.Janet has had careers in the armed forces, academia, and public service.

Nicole Do you find it easy using the writing style that you do?
Janet Yes, because it's conversational and descriptive. I try to write what I like to read and I hear my voice speaking the words as I write. I like using dialogue to tell the story because it not only gives you clues about what direction the story is going in, the language the character uses helps the reader to get to know them better. I've been told by readers that they can actually see or hear the people and things I describe.

Nicole Who designed your website?
Janet N'Digo Design, a fabulous company. They were extremely patient and attentive. And they keep up with my updates and any changes I need. It's great to have a company that anticipates my needs and allows me to focus on my writing.

Nicole I found Scott to be a complex character how did you come up with this character?
Janet He is a combination of a lot of the older men in my life. Some characteristics of my late father are prevalent in him, but mainly he represents a certain generation of men who came out of the segregated time in our history. It was tough for men of that generation to be real men with segregation holding them down. So, their only recourse, in many instances, was to exert their manhood on the people they loved, sometimes with destructive consequences.

Nicole Do you feel that everyone will be able to relate to this novel?
Janet I tried to develop characters that will appeal to most people. Even if a reader doesn't like a particular character, I think they will recognize some behaviors that may remind them of someone they know or even of themselves. Most importantly, good or bad, my goal was to make the characters and the things they went through plausible and realistic. I also wanted my characters to experience situations that may not be palatable but happen in real life, like abortion, infidelity, abandonment, and incest. These are issues that happen in the African American community like every other community, even though we sometimes try not to "put our business in the street." We, as African American writers, have so many different perspectives and there's no way the world will see our complexities unless we tell our stories, our way.

Nicole What is the over all message that your novel protrays?
Janet I think it's about understanding and acknowledging the consequences of our choices. Sometimes we don't take the time to consider the long- term effects of those choices. It's also about forgiveness and how forgiving someone can be liberating for the forgiver. And finally, it's about family love and loving them unconditionally.

Nicole Have you gotten any response to your novel from readers that tell you they were able to identify with this story?
Janet Yes, many readers have commented that even the so-called "trifling" characters had qualities they could identify with. One reader told me that she saw so much of herself in a character that it scared her. That lets me know that my focus is on point.

Nicole Do you feel that writers have a responsibility to help the next writing trying to make it?
Janet I can only speak for myself. I think it's inherent in how I conduct myself. If someone needs my assistance, I wouldn't hesitate to help them in any way I could. It's not about responsibility; it's about who I am as a person and how I was raised. Hopefully my actions will be such that people will know they can come to me if they need assistance. There is so much room out there for all of us; there is no need for a "crabs-in-the-barrel" mentality. And, so many authors and others in the industry have extended their assistance to me without hesitation, so I would definitely pay it forward.

Nicole What will you be working on next?
Janet I'm working on the sequel to Quiet As It's Kept. I really don't like to call it a sequel; it's more like a spin-off. I've gotten a lot requests from readers to expand on some of the minor characters and that's what I'm doing with this novel, tentatively titled, "Can't Let Go." This has been fun! Thanks Nicole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Tide Pool
Kathy Anne Harris
kathap@angelrays.biz
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The middle-aged man parked his car at the top of the cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The early Spring sun was hanging low on the horizon, a warm silver-yellow. Lemony foam purled atop the incoming tide, as waves broke gently on the beach.

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Jeremy walked over to the ledge. A cold breeze, heavy with a salty mist, brushed over and around him, ran phantom fingers through his hair, as he descended the steep sand and wood stairs to the beckoning beach.

There was a lovely tide pool circled with boulders and tucked away behind a bend in the cliff side that few visitors to the beach would ever discover. A tiny ribbon of sand abutted the rocks and provided enough room for him to sit at water’s edge. He sat down, leaned back against a large smooth rock, and gazed into the clear water of the tide pool. Each time a wave stretched out and collapsed on shore a ribbon of seawater would pulse into the pool then trickle back toward the ocean.

Colorful anemone and starfish moved slowly in their isolated world. Watching them usually managed to calm him. However, today he found himself on the other side of “usually managed.” It was the kind of day where things that happened in the past, resurface, wanted or not! Nothing unique to the human race, just the usual emotions that assail us all: grief, anger, sadness, loneliness, shame… And this is where Jeremy came to work things out in his mind, if possible.

He did not hear the tinkling chime of disintegrating waves on sand. Nor the cries of the gulls overhead. Where the stairs bottom out on the sands of a nice sized beach, a family was playing fetch with their black, Labrador Retriever. He did not hear their laughter, or the excited bark of the dog.

His chest felt tight and weighted down. It was difficult for him to breath. He got to his knees and bent over the tide pool. Unbidden, tears welled up, and he wept. The sound of a crab scuttling over rock and sand drew his attention. He looked down and saw the crab disappear into a rock crevasse. He then studied his reflection in the still water. How ragged he looked, he thought. How worn down. He took a deep, settling breath and found the weight around his chest had lifted.

Another wave broke on the beach, a rivulet flowed into the pool and the water shivered. Jeremy reached out and dragged his fingers across the rippling surface. In moments the tidal pool was still and there, at his side, reflected in the pool was an angel. A grand being, with heavy, flowing wings the color of sunlight on pearls. And light pulsed from the angel like the flame of a candle. Such an image only the Divine could sculpt for it was beyond human beauty, The visage that regarded Jeremy was radiant with grace and the angel's countenance was like none Jeremy could describe. No such emotion or like expression had every played across a human face.

Jeremy trembled and all thoughts fled him, save for the presence of the angel. "Why?" he said, as he turned to the heavenly being at his side.

"I am an emissary, sent by the Creator, to be with you at such times as He decrees.

"As you sat here, your breathing was labored and you felt a heaviness inside of you."

Jeremy nodded.

"That weight was my presence with you, as I lifted the burden in your heart."

"The tears you wept, I gathered unto myself. I will present them to our Lord and he will return them to the heavens, to bless all things on the earth that flourish when gentle rains fall.

"The joy that will lift you up as you return to your world today will come as I embrace your spirit, to accompany me briefly, on my flight heavenward.

"And when it is your time to leave this place, I will hold your soul--for we will both be heaven bound, and my wings will take you home."

Jeremy shook his head. "But why am I allowed to see you? To hear you? Why was this done for me?"

The angel smiled. "It was allowed more for me. He gave me these few moments with you as a gift. A glorious token of His love... For it is an angel's heart's desire to be given time to commune with humans openly. To see one another with our eyes and to speak together with words."

"Will I remember my visit with you?"

The angel's eyes flashed the colors of sunrise. "Whether you shall recall our meeting I cannot say... that decision rests in our Lord's hands."

Jeremy did not remember, but the vision he beheld, and the words he heard, his spirit-soul will never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©Ode To The, “Good Ol’ Girls”…
Barbara J. Weymouth
weymouth@cwnet.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now we’ve all heard about the, “Good Ol’ Boys”, but for as long as I’ve been on God’s green earth, I can’t remember ever hearing much about the, “Good Ol’ Girls”. Consequently, I’m writing this as an ode to the, “Good Ol’ Girls” who have come before me and will follow after I’m gone.

We have raised our children, drove them to pre-school and on to Kindergarten, Middle School, High School and then went to school ourselves.

We have Kept our homes and had careers outside of our homes, we have grocery shopped, cooked meals, washed clothes, folded them and put them away.

We’ve vacuumed, mopped, shopped till we dropped, dusted, scrubbed, wiped runny noses, changed diapers, got up for 2 A.M. feedings, held our babies while the doctor gave them their shots and kissed their little tears away.

We’ve walked the floor holding sick, colicky or teething babies and then walked the floor again a few years later for a troubled teen. We held onto our own standards with both hands and feet, took our children to church and taught them how to pray, sewed on buttons, patched torn pant legs, wiped tears, mended broken hearts and skinned knees with a simple kiss and a hug.

We’ve shown up for all the Little League games and volunteered in the snack bar areas, picked up and drove the other kids too. We volunteered as room mothers, and helped drive a classroom of students on a Saturday morning fieldtrip when there was no other way for them to go.

We’ve coached, chauffeured, encouraged, and were true athletic supporters. We have baked cookies, cupcakes, and ran to the store for napkins and paper plates; after working all day; when a note came home with a, “call for help” from their classroom teachers.

We’ve read to our children, listened while they read to us and listened as they said their prayers, we kissed them goodnight and tucked them into their nice warm beds.

We’ve coached and helped them take their first steps, and were as proud as if they had just won a gold medal at the Olympics. These kids were always our, ALL-STARS! Some of us did these things with or without the love, help or support of a husband!

“Good Ol’ Girls”, who shed tears when our children went off to school for the first time, grew up, graduated, moved out, found their places in the world and then said, “I, Do”. We shed more tears of joy when our first grandchild was born and more tears of joy when the next ones came too. We are still the listening ears for our now grown children and mentors and counselors for our grandchildren.

Now I know there are many other things I haven't listed here, but we all know what they are. The unspoken things that we, "Good Ol' Girls" keep tucked deeply away in the recesses of our hearts.

Yes, we are the, “Good Ol’ Girls” the ones in the background who never seem to get quite the same press as the, “Good Ol’ Boys”. Yet I wonder where they would be today without us, “The Good Ol’ Girls”? I know one thing, I’m proud to claim the title of “A Good Ol’ Girl” for there’s no finer title I shall ever attain!

Somewhere in the distance it seems I can faintly here the echoes of the words, "Thank You" for a job well done....!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Free Poetry Day Ecards From 123Greetings.com
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Free poetry E-Cards
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Beloved Mother
James Kisner
PoppyK1@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tears were rolling down her cheeks as she stood there alone,
As she read "a beloved Mother" etched across the stone.
Ten months had passed since it was placed upon this piece of sod,
And also words etched on the stone said "she is now with God."

This Mother's Day will come and go and she won't celebrate,
So many things she would have said but now it is too late.
She should have told her Mother many things before she died,
But she had been too busy and she had not even tried.

She should have told her Mother when she thinks back through the years,
How she loved her childhood and how Mom dispelled the fears,
Of the childhood demons that when growing up appear.
How Mom was always there for her with every passing year.

She should have told her Mother she knew that she wasn't mean,
When that one time she had rebelled when she was just a teen.
She made it through her teenage years as children always do,
And now she knows and whisper's softly "Mom because of you."

As a young adult her Mother helped her find her way,
Encouragement and guidance with the words that she would say.
Never did she fault her when mistakes would come along,
She always said "just learn from them and see that they were wrong."

Another tear rolls down her cheek and drips without a choice,
If only she had one more chance to hear her Mother's voice.
To tell her that she loved her and the things she didn't say,
She should have said so many things before she went away.

She thinks about the Mother's Days gone by with just a token,
Token gifts were not enough now that her heart is broken.
She should have spent the entire day devoted to her Mother,
And laughed and reminisced the past and shared with one another.

But she had done her duty as so many others do,
Stopped to give a token gift before the day was through.
Rushing through her busy day and running out of hours,
Never taking time as said "to stop and smell the flowers."

Now she smells the flowers that she placed upon the ground,
But now she smells them all alone and does not hear a sound.
She whispers softly to her Mother hoping that she hears,
And says I love you mommy as she wipes away more tears.

I love you for the years you gave to love and nurture me,
I love you for the sacrifice you gave unselfishly.
I love you and I realize how much you loved me too,
I only wish this Mother's Day I could have spent with you.

If only I had one more chance but now it is too late,
On every Mother's Day I know I wouldn't hesitate,
To show you if for just one day a love that is sincere,
And also reinforce that love on each day of the year.

I know that many others race through life as I have done,
And never take the time to stop and thank that special one.
My only prayer today for those with mothers in their prime,
On this Mother's Day please let her know while there's still time.

A day will come when you will wish you had just one more day,
To tell her things you wanted too but never got to say.
So as for token gifts and such that you may get for her,
I know a hug and "I love you" is what she would prefer.

Don't let this life go racing by, and slow down if you must,
Worldly things don't mean a thing they only rot and rust.
Stop and smell the flowers and forget all of the strive,
And hug and tell that special woman "Thank you Mom for life."

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There is Always Hope
A Poem by Johnson
SirGalahadCJ@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(I have NEVER attempted suicide...but I know that it is so FINAL and life is constantly changing so everything is momentary in the great scheme of things...Wait till the feeling passes...there's always tomarrow--CJ)

CAUTION--DO NOT ALLOW ANY OF YOUR PETS TO READ MY POETRY AT ANY TIME
--YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED--CJ

With life there is always hope,
Life rotates on a changing slope...
Who knows what's up around the bend?
Your problems could start or your problems could end.

Without life all hope is gone,
Nothing's there to hang your future on...
But don't you ever think that strange;
Death includes no range for change.

So what's the idea of suicide?
Is that a good decision? You decide.
Who knows what's up around the bend?
Your problems could start or your problems could end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Portals
Sim F. Sutterby, Sr.
PoetWorks@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
entranced at the gates unbidden
known only as I am known
sensing this path as directed
committed and unquestioningly submitted

in faith do I follow
those who before me have gone
predestined, predisposed spirits
as written in a cloud

clothed, in innocence
protectively swaddled in faith
a reckoning, in this perfect place
of many mansions foretold

seeking the familiar,
excited by the unknown
drawn to these quarters
in a rhyme written in time

dimensionless beings intermingled
in this scene surreal
understanding but unknowing
drawn to His side.

Copyright (c) 1999

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anticipation
Theresia Kallinicos
Tericlif78@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I held you here with me
and felt your breath on my shoulder
as you drew me closer to you.
Spoons were we last night ...
you there ... me here ...
holding on to the sound of your voice
that caressed, and carried me to a lovely place
safe and secure.
Into dreams with you
I went
holding your hands wrapped round me.
We drifted freely into slumber and spoke there
with our eyes seeing and knowing feelings inside
so long suppressed and now
made available
through timing and circumstances.

We walked the silver sky this night
and moved with such grace
across the dome of the earth
lit by golden stars,
confident and comfortable
together as partners,
at last rediscovering our paths
to each other
having known we would meet in this world
for we had shared another someplace.

That recognition in our Spirits of one the other,
eases us into familiar comfort and
keen awareness of the bodies electric we inhabit now.
The paths for each had been long and pain filled,
but now,
awareness of who we are
what we are,
why we are,
comes together in a harmony that is sublime.

How else explain why we are so drawn to each other?
That uplifting of our Spirits
when we think of each other,
that total serenity
knowing we no longer are alone
seeking the other
but, you, having found me
and I, having found you
allows us to wrap ourselves in gentleness
and warmth and smiles.
The future touches
the heartfelt caresses
all form to shape
the yearning and the burning
within.
That day of feasting
is so near
I taste you now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let Love and Peace Fill Your Heart
Sandra Prouse
Sandbunnee@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Listen to the waterfall, spash on the mirrored lake

Feel the quiet serenity, feel each breath you take

Nature in all its beauty, prevails over a land of peace

Searching deep inside, listen as you seek

A breathtaking emotion, to feel the love inside

Harmony and beauty for all that will abide

Distant valley's echo the sound of tranquility

Every living thing, everyone is free

Clouds float in the distance, the forest is alive

With the sound of calm and quiet,

where inner peace resides

Touch the silver lining, feel the coolness there

Deep within your being, love is everywhere

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I Turned You Lose Today
Charlotte Leah Suiter
KOOOLSTUFFLEAH@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will you miss me
I wanted you to stay
You kept wanting to leave
I turned you loose today

You said good-bye to me
Said you would leave
Then when you got here
You wanted to stay

Will you miss me
You wanted to make love
After all that was said
Then you left again
Wanting to come back to me

I turned you loose today
I'm tired of the head games
I love you still
But you just got to go
I can't take this no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She's Out There
Richard Riley
Hart0Poet@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She cooks supper after all the ironing
Although she does not complain
I watch for signs for concerning

Long days find her waiting
Never asking to get away
Content we think, she is wavering
Now winters cold keeps each heart at bay

What shall she do to bring want
Searching for a feeling which is fleeting
Is it physical substance on which to launch
A hope of closing the gap of not seeing

Now what is missing in our lives she asks
Is it something we felt on time now forgotten
Why do we miss when we can't relate to the facts
She's out there searching where I begin

Holding everything in her heart
Tasting life through a mothers eyes
Sewing on buttons whit supper to start
One last chore, a soothing touch for a child's cry

Cherish the moments fleeting
Remember the days she cared
Hold fast memories she bandaged your bleeding
Dream of her she's still out there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Birdie
morning_bird@illusions-designs.net
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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givingprofits@shaklee.net
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770.993.4220
800.255.8405
nicolealo@bellsouth.net