Keeping Christmas by Henry Van Dyke

There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing...

to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you;

to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world;

to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground;

to see that men and women are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy;

to own up to the fact that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life;

to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness.

Are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing...

to stoop down and consider the needs and desires of little children;

to remember the weakness and loneliness of people growing old;

to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough;

to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear in their hearts;

to try to understand what those who live in the same home with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you;

to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you;

to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open—

Are you willing to do these things, even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing...

to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world—

stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death—

and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem "nineteen hundred" years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love?

Then you can keep Christmas.

And if you can keep it for a day, why not always?

But you can never keep it alone.

Autumn In The Garden - Poem by Henry Van Dyke

'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox,
Where the box
Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks,
There's a voice that talks
Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here
Year by year,--
Dreams of joy, that brightened all the labouring hours,
Fading as the flowers.

Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief;
But relief
For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow
From the Long-Ago,
When I think of other lives that learned, like mine,
To resign,
And remember that the sadness of the fall
Comes alike to all.

What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs!
And what prayers
For the silent strenght that nerves us to endure
Things we cannot cure!
Pacing up and down the garden where they paced,
I have traced
All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find
Comfort in my mind.

Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear:
Yet how near
Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face,
Of the human race!
Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,
Not apart!
They who know the sorrows other lives have known
Never walk alone.

Henry Van Dyke

A Volunteer's Prayer

"I thank Thee, Lord as a volunteer 

For the chance to serve another year. 

And to give of myself in some small way, 

To those not blessed as I each day.

My thanks for health and mind and soul, 

To aid me ever toward my goal. 

For eyes to see the good in all, 

A hand to extend before a fall. 

For legs to go where the need is great, 

Learning to love—forgetting to hate. 

For ears to hear and heart to care, 

When someone's cross is hard to bear. 

A smile to show my affection true, 

With energy aplenty—the task to do.

And all I ask, dear Lord, if I may, 

Is to serve you better day by day."

Heaven - Poem by George Herbert

Oh who will show me those delights on high!

Echo I

Thou Echo, thou art mortal, all men know.

Echo No

Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?

Echo Leaves

And are there any leaves, that still abide?

Echo Bide

What leaves are they? Impart the matter wholly.

Echo Holy

Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse?

Echo Yes

Then tell me, what is that supreme delight?

Echo Light

Light to the minde: what shall the will enjoy?

Echo Joy

But are there cares and business with the pleasure?

Echo Leisure

Light, joy and leisure; but shall they persever?

Echo Ever

Ode a la Esperanza

Ode a la Esperanza

Crepusculo marino,

en medio

de mi vida,

las olas como uvas,

la soledad del cielo,

me llenas

y desbordas,

todo el mar,

todo el cielo,

movimiento

y espacio,

los batallones blancos 

de la espuma,

la tierra anaranjada,

la cintura

incendiada

del sol en agonia,

tantos

dones y dones,

aves

que acuden a sus suenos,

y el mar, el mar,

aroma

suspendido,

coro de sal sonora,

mientras tanto,

nosotros,

los hombres,

junto al agua,

luchando

y esperando

junto al mar,

esperando.

Las olas dicen a la costa firme:

"Todo sera cumplido." 

Pablo Neruda

( By the way, loving an author's poem does not mean one approves his political affiliation per se. A message for my readers: I only like Pablo as a poet.)

Yoga or stretching?

A Footing on this Earth

I sought Him where my logic led.

        "This friend is always sure and right;

        His lantern is sufficient light.

    I need no Star," I said.

    I sought Him in the city square.

        Logic and I went up and down

        The marketplace of many a town,

    But He was never there.

    I tracked Him to the mind's far rim.

        The valiant intellect went forth

        To east and west and south and north,

    But found no trace of Him.

    We walked the world from sun to sun,

        Logic and I, with Little Faith,

        But never came to Nazareth,

    Nor met the Holy One.

    We sought in vain. And finally,

        Back to the heart's small house I crept,

        And fell upon my knees, and wept;

    And Lo! He came to me!

    

Sara Henderson Hay (1906-1987), A Footing on this Earth: Poems, Doubleday, 1966, p. 214

Important Question

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: 'What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. Absolutely, said the professor. "In your careers you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say hello". I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

Author unknown.

The Kiss!

Ode To The Lemon by Pablo Neruda

Ode To The Lemon by Pablo Neruda

From blossoms
released
by the moonlight,
from an
aroma of exasperated
love,
steeped in fragrance,
yellowness
drifted from the lemon tree,
and from its plantarium
lemons descended to the earth.

Tender yield!
The coasts,
the markets glowed
with light, with
unrefined gold;
we opened
two halves
of a miracle,
congealed acid
trickled
from the hemispheres
of a star,
the most intense liqueur
of nature,
unique, vivid,
concentrated,
born of the cool, fresh
lemon,
of its fragrant house,
its acid, secret symmetry.

Knives
sliced a small
cathedral
in the lemon,
the concealed apse, opened,
revealed acid stained glass,
drops
oozed topaz,
altars,
cool architecture.

So, when you hold
the hemisphere
of a cut lemon
above your plate,
you spill
a universe of gold,
a
yellow goblet
of miracles,
a fragrant nipple
of the earth's breast,
a ray of light that was made fruit,
the minute fire of a planet.

All For One

All For One

An anthropologist proposed a game to the kids in an African tribe.

He put a basket full of fruit near a tree and told the kids that who

ever got there first won the sweet fruits.

When he told them to run they all took each others hands and ran

together, then sat together enjoying their treats.

When he asked them why they had run like that as one could have had all

the fruits for himself they said:

"UBUNTU, how can one of us be happy if all the other ones are sad?"

'UBUNTU' in the Xhosa culture means: "I am because we are".

To love

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

God's Beauty Tips

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others.

To lose weight, let go of stress, hatred, anger, discontentment, and the need to control others.

To improve your ears, listen to the Word of God.

For poise, walk with knowledge and self-esteem.

To strengthen your arms, hug at least 3 people a day; touch someone with your love.

To strengthen your heart, forgive yourself and others.

For the ultimate in business, casual or evening attire, put on the robe of Christ; it fits like a glove but allows room for growth.

Best of all, it never goes out of style and is appropriate for any occasion.

Doing these things on a daily basis will certainly make you a more beautiful person.

- Author Unknown

Questions dogs might ask God

Questions dogs might ask God: 

- Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story? - Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a Dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the 'Chrysler Eagle' the 'Chrysler Beagle'?- Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize? - Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another? - Dear God: We Dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

@Laugh & Lift

Foreign Lands

Foreign Lands
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad in foreign lands.

I saw the next door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping in to town.

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships,

To where the road on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.

Apple or a Rose?

A Doctor and an Advocate loved the same girl. The Doctor gave her a rose daily and the advocate gave the girl an apple. 

The girl got confused and asked the Advocate, "There is a meaning in giving rose in love. Why are you giving me an apple?" 

Advocate answered: Because, "An Apple a day keeps the doctor away!"