A Child's Angel
Author Unknown

Once upon a time, there was a child ready to be born.
One day he asked God:
"They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow,
but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"
God: "Among the many angels, I chose one especially for you.
She will be waiting for you and will take care of you."
Child: "But tell me, here in Heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile,
and that is enough for me to be happy. Will I be happy there?"
God: "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day.
You will feel your angel's love and be happy."
Child: "How am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me
if I don't know the language that men talk?"
God: "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear.
With much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."
Child: "And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"
God: "Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."
Child: "I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?"
God: "Your angel will defend you even if it means risking her own life."
Child: "But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."
God: "Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way to come back to me,
even though I will always be next to you."
At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard.
The child, in a hurry, asked softly:
"Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."
God: Your angel's name is of no importance. You will call your angel.....MOMMY."

Why Mothers Cry

"Why are you crying?" he asked his mom.
"Because I am a mother," she told him.
"I don't understand," he said. His mom hugged him and said,"You never will!"
Later the little boy asked his father why Mother seemed to cry for no reason.
"All mothers cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why mothers cry.
So, he finally put in a call to God and when God got on the phone
the man said, "God, why do mothers cry so easily?"
God said,"You see son, when I made mothers they had to be special.
I made their shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,
yet gentle enough to give comfort. I gave them an
inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times
comes from their children. I gave them a hardiness that allows them to keep
going when everyone else gives up, and to take care of their families
through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
I gave them the sensitivity to love their children under all
circumstances, even when their child has hurt them very badly.
This same sensitivity helps them to make a child's boo-boo feel better and
helps them share a teenager's anxieties and fears.
I gave them a tear to shed. It's theirs exclusivly to use whenever it's needed.
It's their only weakness. It's a tear for mankind."

The Girl I Used to Be
Author unknown

She came tonight as I sat alone, the girl I used to be.
And she gazed at me with her earnest eye and questioned reproachfully.
"Have you forgotten the many plans and hopes I had for you?"
"The great career, the splendid fame, all the wonderful things to do?"
"Where is the mansion of stately height with all of it's gardens rare?"
"The silken robes that I dreamed for you and the jewels in your hair?"
And as she spoke, I was very sad for I wanted her pleased with me....
This slender girl that I used to be.
So gently rising, I took her hand and guided her up the stairs.
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay so innocent, sweet and fair.
I told her that these are my only gems, and precious they are to me.
That silken robe is my motherhood of costly simplicity.
And my mansion of stately height is love, and the only career I know,
is serving each day in these sheltered walls for the dear ones who come and go.
And as I spoke to my shadowy guest, she smiled through her tears at me.
And I saw the woman I am now...pleased I'm the girl I used to be.

My Daughter's Poetry

My Daughter's Poetry

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