More Of My Favorite Things
Anger is a condition in which the tongue works faster than the mind. You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying over the future. Love...and you shall be loved. All people smile in the same language. A hug is a great gift... one size fits all. Everyone needs to be loved...especially when they do not deserve it. The real measure of a man's wealth is what he
has invested in eternity. Everyone has beauty but not everyone sees it. When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, Life is queer, with its twists and turns, Success is failure turned inside out-
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"May You Always Feel Loved" May you find serenity and tranquility May the pain you have known and May you discover enough goodness in Author Unknown God Sent You An Angel God sent you an Angel God sent you an Angel God Sent you an Angel God sent you an Angel God sent you an Angel C. T. Morgan
I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- I've learned- |
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water, and sunshine and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; his eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly, he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together...
Author Unknown
Dead at Seventeen
Agony claws my mind. I am a statistic. When I first got here I felt very much alone. I was overwhelmed by grief, and I expected to find sympathy.
I found no sympathy. I saw only thousands of others whose bodies were as badly mangled as mine. I was given a number and placed in a category. The category was called "Traffic Fatalities."
The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus! But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. "Special favor," I pleaded. "All the kids drive." When the 2:50 p.m. bell rang, I threw my books in the locker . . . free until tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.
It doesn't matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off -- going too fast, taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard a crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.
Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn't feel anything. Hey, don't pull that sheet over my head. I can't be dead. I'm only 17. I've got a date tonight. I'm supposed to have a wonderful life ahead of me. I haven't lived yet. I can't be dead.
Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks came to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at Mom's eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked very old. He told the man in charge, "Yes, he's our son."
The funeral was weird. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. They looked at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked by.
Please somebody -- wake me up! Get me out of here. I can't bear to see Mom and Dad in such pain. My grandparents are so weak from grief they can barely walk. My brother and sister are like zombies. They move like robots. In a daze. Everybody. No one can believe this. I can't believe it, either.
Please, don't bury me! I'm not dead! I
have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing
and dance. Please don't put me in the ground! I promise if you give me just
one more chance, God, I'll be the most careful driver in the whole world.
All I want is one more chance. Please, God, I'm only 17.
By John Berrio