|Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born.
So 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 said: Among the many angels, I chose one for you.
She will be waiting for you and will take care of you.
But tell me, here in heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile, that's enough for me to be happy.
Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you everyday,
and you will feel your angel's love and be happy.
And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don't know the language that men talk?
Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care your angel will teach you how to speak.
And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?
Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you to pray.
I've heard on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?
Your angel will defend you even if it means risking it's life.
But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore.
Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you 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, and the child in a hurry asked softly:
Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angels name.
Your angels name is of no importance. You will simply call her Mommy.
|If I Had My Child To Raise Over Again|
|If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd finger-paint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I'd teach less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.
|Did You Ever Wonder How Moms Of Preemies Are Chosen?|
|Did you ever wonder how mothers of premature babies are chosen?
Somehow, I visualize God hovering over Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
"Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint, Matthew. Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia. Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron Saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."
Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. "Give her a preemie."
The angel is curious. "Why this one God? She's so happy."
"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter?
That would be cruel."
"But does she have the patience?'' asks the angel. "I don't want her to have too much patience, or she'll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off she'll handle it.
"I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother.
You see, the child I'm going to give her has a world of it's own. She has to make it live in her world, and that's not going to be easy." But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you." God smiles.
"No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just the right amount of selfishness."
The angel gasps, "Selfishness? Is that a virtue?" God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.
She doesn't know it yet, but she is about to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says momma for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see-- ignorance, cruelty, prejudice--and allow her to rise above them.
She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."
"And what about her Patron Saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles
"A mirror will suffice."
|How do we say "thank you"?
It's not as if just a little
good deed was done or
a birthday present received.
"Thank you" seems hollow, simple,
Instead of lonely years
of painful tears
of aching hearts
of grief and separation--
You have given us back a lifetime
of needy tears and soothing
of hearts fulfilled and prideful
of a whole new generation.
We come before you
Babe held close
and all we can utter is "Thank you".
|Authors of these poems are unknown. If you know who the authors are, please let me know so that proper credit is given.|
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