Is heaven in the yellow pages?

Mummy went to Heaven, but I need her here today,
My tummy hurts and I fell down, I need her right away.
Operator can you tell me how to find her in this book?
Is Heaven in the yellow part, I don’t know where to look.
I think my daddy needs her too, at night I hear him cry.
I hear him call her name sometimes, but I really don’t know why.
Maybe if I call her, she will hurry home to me.
Is Heaven very far away, is it across the sea?
She’s been gone a long, long time. She really needs to come home now!
I really need to reach her but I simply don’t know how.
Help me find the number please, Is it listed under Heaven?
I can’t read these big words, I am only seven.
I’m sorry operator, I didn’t mean to make you cry.
Is your tummy hurting too, or is there something in your eye?
If I call my church maybe they will know.
Mummy said when we need help that’s where we should go.
I found the number to my church tacked up on the wall.
Thank you operator, I’ll give them a call.
 
 by Donna Groleau.

Mother’s letter to her child

Dear Child,
 
The Bathroom Door is Closed!
  
Please do not stand here and talk, whine, or ask questions.
 
Wait until I get out.
 
Yes, it is locked. I want it that way. It is not broken, and I am not trapped.
 
I know I have left it unlocked, and even open at times, since you were born, because I was afraid some horrible tragedy might occur while I was in there, but it’s been 10 years and I want some PRIVACY.
  
Do not ask me how long I will be. I will come out when I am done.
  
Do not bring the phone to the bathroom door.
  
Do not go running back to the phone yelling “She’s on the toilet!”
    
Don not stick your little fingers under the door and wiggle them.   This was funny when you were two.
    
Do not slide pennies, LEGOs, or notes under the door. Even when you were two this got a little tiresome.

If you have followed me down the hall talking, and are still talking as you face this closed door, please turn around, walk away, and wait for me in another room. I will be glad to listen to you when I am done.
  
And yes, I still love you,

Mum

I found this when I was clearing out my Mothering Sunday file…I don’t know who wrote it – but I’m told every mother can relate to it…

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

Loving the unlovely

This is another poem by Lance Landall…it struck a chord with me because it’s easy to love people we like but harder to love people that are seen as different for whatever reason.  For me each person is unique and wonderfully made and loved by God…does it really cost us much to show people the respect and care they deserve?  No one should be made to feel second class or second rate because of how they look, what disability they have or where they live…we do that to people not God – God is love and those who live in love live in God and God lives in them…lets show people the love they deserve.

Loving The Unlovely

Don’t mock or laugh at others, nor treat them indifferently,
Just because you think they’re odd, weak, silly, even ugly.
No, never treat unkindly any human on this earth,
Remember: They’re someone’s child, and had no say in their birth.

Yes, love and help the difficult, the misfits, the unlovely,
For they need your love also, more so, unconditionally.
We all love the loveable; that’s easy, natural too,
But loving the unlovely is the greater thing to do.

It’s easy to love your own, they’re your loved ones, after all,
But loving the unlovely — for most — is a very hard call.
Yet, such love’s pure love — and in each of us — such love should be,
Such doesn’t seek to get, just seeks to give, for it’s self free.

Everyone is different, the product of many things,
Hence why out of each one’s life, both good and bad flows or springs.
Take time to get to know folk, accept them the way they are,
Yes, tolerance and understanding have always gone far.

It’s hard enough for many that they feel the way they do,
That they’re struggling with their quirks, anxieties, obsessions too.
Such folk need a helping hand, not those whispers, looks or comments,
Nor thoughtless indifference, that to some, is more intense.

Many not so well endowed with looks, physique or IQ,
Are made to feel inferior by sad things folk say and do.
You may say that folk can choose to feel that way or not, but,
Is anything that easy, and sometimes, things really cut.

Yes, love and help the difficult, the misfits, the unlovely,
For they need your love also, more so, unconditionally.
Never just love your loved ones, or those you’re attracted to,
But show love and care to all — for that’s the greater thing to do.

By Lance Landall

This Child of Mine

  by: Edgar A. Guest, Source Unknown

“I’ll lend you for a little while
A child of mine,” God said,
“For you to have the while he lives,
And mourn for when he’s dead.

It may be six or seven years
Or twenty-two or three;
But will you ’till I call him back
Take care of him for me?

He’ll bring his charms to gladden you
And, should his stay be brief,
You’ll have his lovely memories
As a solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return;
But there are lessons taught below
I want this child to learn.

I’ve looked the whole world over
In search for teachers true;
And from the throngs that crowd life’s land,
I have chosen you.

Now, will you give him all your love
Nor think the labour vain?
Nor hate me when I come to take
This lent child back again?”

I fancied that I heard them say:
“Dear Lord, Thy will be done.
For all the joys Thy child will bring
The risk of grief we’ll run.

We’ll shower him with tenderness,
We’ll love him while we may.
And for the happiness we’ve known
Forever grateful stay.

But should Thy angel call for him
Much sooner than we’ve planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes
And try to understand.”

Heaven’s Special Child

A meeting was held quite far from earth,  
It’s time again for another birth.  
Said the angels to the Lord above;

This special child will need much love  
His progress may be very slow,  
Accomplishments he may not show.  
And he’ll require extra care,  
From the folks he meets down there,

He may not run or laugh or play,  
His thoughts may seem quite far away.  
In many ways he won’t adapt, and he’ll  
Be known as handicapped.

So let’s be careful where he is sent, we want  
His life to be content.

Please, Lord, find the good friends who, will  
Do a special job for you.

They will not realize it right away, the leading  
Role they’re asked to play.  
               But with this child sent from above, comes  
Stronger faith and richer love.  
And soon they will know the privileges given,  
In caring for their gift from Heaven.  
      Their precious charge, so meek and mild, in

Heaven’s  very special child.

Author presently unknown

One Solitary Life

He was born in an obscure village,
the child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in still another village
where he worked in a carpenter’s shop
until he was thirty.
He did none of the things one usually
associates with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.
He was only thirty-three when
public opinion turned against him.
He was turned over to his enemies
and crucified.
When he was dead he was laid
in a borrowed grave.
Nineteen centuries have passed and today
he is the central figure of the human race.
No one has affected the life of man on earth
as much as that one solitary life.
 

This was originally a sermon written by Dr James Allan Francis in 1926.  It has since become shorter and tweaked by various people and from an anonymous source.