memory page i decate this page to rambo i love you and butterball

Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!

memory page i decate this page to rambo i love you and butterball

DEAR GOD: I want to thank You for what you have already done. I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards; I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better; I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me; I am thanking you right now.. I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves; I am going to thank you right now. I am not going to wait until the children are asleep and the house is quiet; I am going to thank you right now. I am not going to wait until I get promoted at work or until I get the job; I am going to thank you right now. I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief; I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed; I am thanking you right now. I am thanking you because I am alive. I am thanking you because I made it through the day's difficulties. I am thanking you because I have walked around the obstacles. I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do more and do better. I'm thanking you because FATHER, YOU haven't given up on me.

Several days before I was to die A white dove flew into my garden. It had one black spot on its tail, As if a drop of ink had soiled Its purity. It looked at me As birds do: head sideways,Neck twisted, almost upside down;Then went the other way, fluttered, Cooed, straightened, and stared at me With more than human stillness. Our eyes Met, and I felt some understanding Pass between us, as if it sensed I was to die and felt compassion.And then I knew that I would live. Weeks after my miracle The dove returned, nesting near me,An ordinary bird. Of course I hold it dear. But who lived in Its eyes? Whose compassion sent The silent thoughts that turned my will? I know my own imagination May have spoken through the bird,Lifting me from death. But surely What we'll never understand Far surpasses what we know. The dove knows more than we. And I,Returned from death, am like a boulder Lifted up and left upon the shore By some majestic wave.

My Guestbook