I Did Not Have Time

I got up early one morning
And wished the night into the day;
I had so much to accomplish
That I did not have time to pray
Problems just tumbled about me
And heavier came each task
"Why doesn't God help me". I wondered
He answered: "You did not ask"
I wanted to see the joy and beauty
But the day grew, gray and black
I wondered why god didn't seek
I tried to go into God's presence
I used all my keys at the lock,
God gently and lovingly chided,
"My child, you didn't knock."
I woke up early this morning
And paused before entering the day
I had so much to accomplish
That I had to take time to PRAY!

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If I had a Child to Raise All Over Again

If I had a child to raise all over again,
I'd finger paint more and point the finger less.
I'd 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'd run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I'd build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I'd teach less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.

Diane Loomans
"2nd helping of Chicken soup for the soul"

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In Anger

When I have lost my temper
I have lost my reason, too.
I'm never proud of anything
Which angrily I do

When I have talked in anger
And my cheeks are flaming red
I have always uttered something
That I wish I hadn't said

In anger I have never done
a kindly deed, or wise
But many things for which I know
I shall apologize

In looking back across my life
And all I've lost and made,
I can't recall a single time
When fury ever paid.

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Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the full clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley