Sharing Pain with Teddy Bear

Teddy, I’ve been bad again,
My Mommy told me so;
I’m not quite sure what I did wrong,
But I thought that you might know.

When I woke up this morning,
I knew that she was mad;
‘Cause she was crying awful hard,
And yelling at my dad.

I tried my best to be real good,
And do just what she said;
I cleaned my room all by myself,
I even made my bed.

But I spilled milk on my good shirt,
When she yelled at me to hurry;
And I guess she didn’t hear me,
When I told her I was sorry.

‘Cause she hit me awful hard, you see,
And called me funny names;
And told me I was really bad,
And I should be ashamed!

When I said, “I love you, Mommy,”
I guess she didn’t understand;
‘Cause she yelled at me to shut my mouth
Or I’d get smacked again.

So I came up here to talk to you,
Please tell me what to do;
‘Cause I really love my Mommy,
And I know she loves me, too.

And I don’t think my Mommy means,
To hit me quite so hard;
I guess sometimes, grown-ups forget
How really big they are!

So Teddy, I wish you were real,
And you weren’t just a bear;
Then you could help me find a way
To tell Mommies everywhere.

To please try hard to understand.
How sad it makes us feel;
‘Cause the outside pain soon goes away,
But the inside never heals!

And if we could make them listen,
Maybe then they’d understand;
So other children just like me,
Wouldn’t have to hurt again.

But for now, I guess I’ll hold you tight,
And pretend the pain’s not there;
I know you’d never hurt me,
So Goodnight, Teddy Bear!

“It would be better to be thrown into the sea with a large millstone tied around the neck than to face the punishment in store for harming one of these little ones.”
Luke 17:2 NLT

Anon

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Funeral Poem

Miss me, but let me go

We’ve known lots of pleasure,
At times endured pain,
We’ve lived in the sunshine
 And walked in the rain.
  
But now we’re separated
And for a time apart,
But I am not alone-
You’re forever in my heart.
 
Death always seems so sudden,
And it is always sure,
But what is oft’ forgotten-
It is not without a cure.
 
There may be times you miss me,
I sort of hope you do,
But smile when you think of me,
For I’ll be waiting for you.
 
Now there’s many things for you to do,
 And lots of ways to grow,
So get busy, be happy,and live your life,
Miss me, but let me go.
  
Anon.

Diary of a Church Mouse

It’s Harvest time again….here is a harvest poem….

The Diary of a Church Mouse  by John Betjeman

Here among long-discarded cassocks,
Damp stools, and half-split open hassocks,
Here where the vicar never looks
I nibble through old service books.
Lean and alone I spend my days
Behind this Church of England baize.
I share my dark forgotten room
With two oil-lamps and half a broom.
 The cleaner never bothers me,
So here I eat my frugal tea.
My bread is sawdust mixed with straw;
My jam is polish for the floor.
Christmas and Easter may be feasts
For congregations and for priests,
And so may Whitsun. All the same,
They do not fill my meagre frame.
For me the only feast at all
Is Autumn’s Harvest Festival,
When I can satisfy my want
With ears of corn around the font.
I climb the eagle’s brazen head
To burrow through a loaf of bread.
I scramble up the pulpit stair
And gnaw the marrows hanging there.
It is enjoyable to taste
These items ere they go to waste,
But how annoying when one finds
That other mice with pagan minds
Come into church my food to share
Who have no proper business there.
Two field mice who have no desire
To be baptized, invade the choir.
A large and most unfriendly rat
Comes in to see what we are at.
He says he thinks there is no God
And yet he comes … it’s rather odd.
This year he stole a sheaf of wheat
(It screened our special preacher’s seat),
And prosperous mice from fields away
Come in to hear our organ play,
And under cover of its notes
Ate through the altar’s sheaf of oats.
 A Low Church mouse, who thinks that
I Am too papistical, and High,
Yet somehow doesn’t think it wrong
To munch through Harvest Evensong,
While I, who starve the whole year through,
Must share my food with rodents who
Except at this time of the year
Not once inside the church appear.
Within the human world I know
Such goings-on could not be so,
For human beings only do
What their religion tells them to.
They read the Bible every day
And always, night and morning, pray,
 And just like me, the good church mouse,
Worship each week in God’s own house,
But all the same it’s strange to me
How very full the church can be
With people I don’t see at all
Except at Harvest Festival.

Help For Heroes Concert

Just watched the Help for Heroes Concert where Robbie Williams and Gary Barlow sang thier new song ‘Shame’….Loved Enrique Iglesias performing Hero….and then followed by Robbie Williams – Awesome tribute…I hope it helps the cause…My prayers are with the people serving in our Armed Forces and their families.

Robbie Williams & Gary Barlow Shame lyrics 

Well there’s three version of this story, mine, and yours and then the truth.
And we can put it down to circumstance our childhood then our youth.
Out of sentimental gain I wanted you to feel my pain,
But it came back return to sender.

I read your mind and tried to call,
My tears could fill the Albert hall.
Is this the sound of sweet surrender?

What a shame we never listened.
I told you through the television.
And all that went away was the price we paid.
People spend a life time this way.
Oh what a shame.

So I got busy throwing everybody underneath the bus.
Oh, and with your poster 30 foot high at the back of Toys-R-Us.
I wrote a letter in my mind but the words were so unkind about a man I can’t remember.

I don’t recall the reasons why.
I must have meant them at the time.
Is this the sound of sweet surrender?
What a shame we never listened.

I told you through the television.
And all that went away was the price we paid.
People spend a life time this way and that’s how they stay.

Words come easy when they’re true.
Words come easy when they’re true.

So I got busy throwing everybody underneath the bus.
Oh, and with your poster 30 foot high at the back of Toy-R-Us.
Now we can put it down to circumstance our childhood then our youth.

What a shame we never listened
I told you through the television
And all that went away was the price we paid
People spend a lifetime this way
And that’s how they stay
Oh what a shame.
People spend a lifetime this way
Oh what a shame
Such a shame, what a shame

Burn baby burn! (via Bishop Tim Ellis’s Weblog)

Burn baby burn! Who would have thought that a tiny church of some fifty adherents, tucked away in the west of the United States could create such a storm? And yet the ironically named Terry Jones (who shares his name with the much more intelligent and astute former Monty Python member, who helped create a similar international incident with their supposedly irreverent ‘Life of Brian’) has done just that: make it widely known that you are going to burn the most h … Read More

via Bishop Tim Ellis’s Weblog