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Relationships
Stop and think ... please read ....
rollercoaster · 19/06/2003 16:58
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" was my reply.
He said, "Please excuse me too;
I wasn't watching for you."
We were very polite, this stranger and I.
We went on our way and we said good-bye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down.
"Move out of the way," I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken.
I didn't realize how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use,but the children you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise,
you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes."
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up," I said.
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree.
I picked 'em because they're pretty like you.
I knew you'd like 'em, especially the blue."
I said, "Son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;I shouldn't have yelled at you that way."
He said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway." I said, "Son, I love you too,and I do like the flowers, especially the blue."
butterflymum · 19/06/2003 17:40
Thanks from me as well - we really all need to stop and think more often and remember that the simplest things in life can often bring the most pleasure. Oh to see life again through the eyes of a child - perhaps then we would truly love as they do and give courtesy to all wherever and whenever it is due.
Read the poem again and remember it well.
ks · 21/06/2003 09:46
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ks · 21/06/2003 09:47
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spacemonkey · 21/06/2003 09:55
This poem has always brought a lump to my throat:
The Toys
My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes
And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,
Having my law the seventh time disobey'd,
I struck him and dismiss'd
With hard words and unkiss'd,
His Mother, who was patient, being dead.
Then fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,
I visited his bed,
But found him slumbering deep,
With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet
From his late sobbing wet.
And I, with moan,
Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;
For, on a table drawn beside his head,
He had put within his reach
A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone,
A piece of glass abrdaded by the beach
And six or seven shells,
A bottle with bluebells
And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art
To comfort his sad heart.
So when that night I pray'd
To God I wept, and said:
Ah, when we at last lie with tranced breath,
Not vexing Thee in death,
And thou remberest of what toys
We made our joys,
How weakly understood
Thy great commanded good,
The, fatherly not less
Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay,
Thou'lt leave Thy wrath and say,
'I will be sorry for their childishness.'
Coventry Patmore
ks · 21/06/2003 10:34
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