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Posted on 06/30/2008 10:26:42 PM PDT by JustAmy
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Cardhu, your Niece's Children are Precious, and Jaycee and Nan, I Love your Pics! 'Dita, you Posted the Sweetest Graphic and Lovely Scripture to me Yesterday; Thank you!
God Bless you All, Dear FRiends, and Goodnight.
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Have a Blessed Night, Dear FRiend.
What an adorable little girl. I did that too, Kitty, and wasn’t it fun? They told me every one of those little feathery puffs would grow another dandelion.....!
While traveling together, my wife and I started talking with a delightful young woman we met. The time passed quickly as we chatted about lighthearted topics.
But when she heard that I was a minister, the conversation took a heart-wrenching turn. She began to share with us that when her husband left her only a few months earlier, she had struggled with the pain of that abandonment.
Then she smiled and said, “I can’t tell you how much my church has meant to me these past months.” Her mood and countenance changed dramatically as she recounted the ways her church family had wrapped their loving arms around her in her season of heartache. It was refreshing to hear how that local assembly had surrounded her with the love of Christ.
Far too often, it seems, we limit the significance of church to what happens on Sunday. But the church is to be so much more. It is to be a safe haven, a rescue station, a training center for spiritual service. It is particularly to be an expression of the concerned heart of the Lord for hurting, broken people, such as our young friend.
We are to “love one another,” John the disciple reminded us, “for love is of God” (1 John 4:7).
Just a wonderful picture, yorkie!
Wonderful pictures, Nan....thanks for sharing them with us. Its fun!
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Is it still Kids’ Day?
Kids Are Quick
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TEACHER: Maria, go to the map and find North America.
MARIA: Here it is.
TEACHER: Correct. Now class, who discovered America ?
CLASS: Maria.
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TEACHER: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor?
JOHN: You told me to do it without using tables
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TEACHER: Glenn, how do you spell ‘crocodile?’
GLENN: K-R-O-K-O-D-I-A-L’
TEACHER: No, that's wrong
GLENN: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it.
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TEACHER: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?
DONALD: H I J K L M N O.
TEACHER: What are you talking about?
DONALD: Yesterday you said it's H to O.
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TEACHER: Winnie, name one important thing we have today that we didn't have ten years ago.
WINNIE: Me!
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TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are.
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TEACHER: Millie, give me a sentence starting with ‘I.’
MILLIE: I is..
TEACHER: No, Millie..... Al ways say, ‘I am.’
MILLIE: Al l right... ‘I am the ninth letter of the alphabet.’
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TEACHER: George Washington not only chopped down his father's cherry tree, but also admitted it. Now, Louie, do you know why his father didn't punish him?
LOUIS: Because George still had the axe in his hand.
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TEACHER: Now, Simon, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?
SIMON: No sir, I don't have to, my Mom is a good cook.
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TEACHER: Clyde , your composition on ‘My Dog’ is exactly the same as your brother's. Did you copy his?
CLYDE : No, sir. It's the same dog.
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TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher
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Now, my question is: Were we ever this sharp and quick on the uptake??????
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Graphic by MamaBear
There's a time in each year that we always hold dear,
the good old summer time;
With the birds and the treeses and sweet-scented breezes,
In the good old summer time.
When your day's work is over then you are in clover,
And life is one beautiful rhyme,
No trouble annoying each one is enjoying,
The good old summer time.
In the good old summertime,
in the good old summertime.
Strolling through the shady lanes with my baby mine.
You hold her hand, and she holds yours,
and that's a very good sign.
She will be your tootsie wootsie,
in the good old summertime.
-- song by George Evans and Ren Shields
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I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn,
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring!
O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay,
How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
-- William Blake
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LOL..Love it!
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