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My husband found this prayer in the form of a poem as we were looking for a Kneeling Santa picture online to enlarge for a bulletin board we were making for our children's Sunday School department. It would be nice to combine this poem and a stamped kneeling Santa in a Christmas card for Christian Educators.
Kneeling Santa Prayer
by Juelie McLean
The sleigh was all packed, the reindeer were fed,
But Santa still knelt by the side of his bed,
"Dear Father," he prayed, "Be with me tonight.
There's much work to do and my schedule is tight.
My sack will hold toys to grant all kids' wishes.
The supply will be endless like the loaves and the fishes.
I can do all these things, Lord, only through You.
I just need your blessing, then it's easy to do.
I do this only to honor the birth of the One,
That was sent to redeem us, Your most Holy Son.
So to all of my friends, lest Your glory I rob,
Please, Lord, remind them who gave me this job."
Do you know of any Secret Sister or Secret Pal poetry? Like for cards and gifts?
For the Dedication of a House
By Anna Marie Dahlquist
Dear Lord, with grateful heart
We give this house to Thee
And purpose that its every part
To Thee shall honoring be.
May these Thy walls never ring
With selfish, dull complaints,
Or idle gossip's deadly sting,
Or foolish arguments.
But let the sweet perfume
Of love pervade the air;
Breathe into each and every room
An atmosphere of prayer.
Dear Lord, with grateful heart,
We give this house to Thee,
That to Thyself its every part
May glorifying be.
>>@@<< Dedication of a Baby
By Anna Marie Dahlquist.
Lord, thank You for this precious little baby;
Lovingly nurtured, tenderly wrapped, so new!
It's with great joy we gather here together
To dedicate this little life to You.
Just as a tender rosebud in the morning
Lifts to the sun its petals covered with dew,
So may this little heart early open to Jesus--
This little life we dedicate to You.
We see our pastor place his hand of blessing
Upon the infant head, and we pray with him too,
"Lord, place Your hand on the baby and on the parents,
And bless the lives we dedicate to You!"
>>@@<< 50th Wedding Anniversary
By Ethel V. Leffel.
God hasn't always given you
A smooth and easy road,
But He was there with love and care
To lighten every load.
And He has walked beside you
In bright sunshine and in showers,
And here and there around the bend
A bright bouquet of flowers.
He's blessed your home with children
You've laughed and worked and played.
For 50 years God's never failed
He's listened when you prayed.
And so we wish for you our best
And love for all your days.
Confident that God will grant
Bright moments filled with praise.
That each new day will echo back
To those sweet wedding bells!
We wish you peace, we wish you joy,
Dear friends, we wish you well!
I was invited to a Christmas Cookie exchange, but because of the ice storm we had recently, I was unable to get there. My friend saved a goodie bag for me anyway and inside it had a cookie cutter with this poem tied to it! She made the tag by printing it in red ink on her computer, then cut around it and added some red dye ink around the edges and some green glitter. Then she punched a hole in one side and attached it to a Christmas tree cookie cutter with gold curling ribbon.
I made a plate of cookies,
to share with you this year.
I thought it was a good way,
to spread some Christmas cheer.
They all looked so tasty,
so I thought I'd eat just one.
And a little while later,
I noticed there was none.
So here's my Christmas greeting,
and a cookie cutter, too.
Now you can make your own cookies,
and maybe share a few.
~ Author Unknown.
My youth pastor receives an email newsletter from youth specialities.com which always includes funny or bizarre holidays. He passed along some of the holidays he received for the month of February, besides Valentines Day, some were apropo for cardmakers!*wink*
4 Thank a Mailman Day
6 Lame Duck Day
7 Send a Card to a Friend Day -- obviously created by a card company
8 Boy Scout Day -- celebrates the birthday of scouting
11 Clean out Your Computer Day -- second Monday of the Month
11 Make a Friend Day
14 Valentine's Day
15 National Gum Drop Day
16 Do a Grouch a Favor Day
17 Random Acts of Kindness Day
18 President's Day -- third Monday of month
19 National Chocolate Mint Day
20 Cherry Pie Day
20 Hoodie Hoo Day
21 Card Reading Day
23 International Dog Biscuit Appreciation Day -- now can you be creative and challenge yourself to make a card using Dog Biscuit's *wink*
26 Tell a Fairy Tale Day
27 Polar Bear Day
28 Floral Design Day
29 Leap Day (once every four years)
A Frenchman, Charles, Duke of Orleans, gets the credit from historians for starting the modern valentine tradition we know. Captured by the English during the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, Charles sent his wife a love note from his prison room in the Tower of London on February 14. One of his verses expresses sentiments not too different from those in some of today's valentines.
Wilt thou be mine?
dear love, reply,
or else deny.
none shall know,
Wilt thou be mine, love?
ay or no?
A booklet of verses, written in the early 1700s, published by J.M. Fletcher of Nashua, New Hampshire called "The Ladies and Gentlemen's New and Original Valentine Writer", friends or lovers could turn to to find a poem for all of love's seasons.
~ Jean P. Favalora, Valentines: A Loving Remembrance. Lark Books, 1995.
I made this tile to symbolize
Our special bond & family ties
Pull it off the card and remove the glue
Then place on the fridge for all to view.
It's my special way of saying "I Love You!"
"If" you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs, and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting, too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good nor talk too wise;
"If" you can dream and not make dreams your master,
If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with triumph and disaster,
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools'
"If" you can make one heap of all your winnings,
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them, "Hold on!"
"If" you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings Ė nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And Ė which is more Ė you'll be a Man, My Son!
~~ <> @ <> ~~
Christ with me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit,
Christ where I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Irish Blessing
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
For more Irish blessings and poems: see these websites:
www.irishcultureandcustoms.com Click on "Poetry" on the Navigation bar at the top of the page, then click on "blessings" on the side bar of the next page and that will bring you to several Irish blessings
Several have asked in the forum for Sympathy poetry and I found a good site for saying good-bye in poetry form. See www.good-bye-poems.com
I'm looking for encouragement and get well poems and sayings. I have a few stamps appropriate for this type of ministry, but need more as I can computer-generate them in my word processor to add to my cards. So if you have any that you've used in the past, please share. I did find a poem of encouragement for those who were abused
Your request is not at all strange. My own sister suddenly found herself single by divorce after a 26 year marriage last year and she needs all the encouragement she can get just to make it through each day. I'll look in my notebooks of poetry and see what I might find along that line and thanks for reminding me to send my sis a card.
And if any of you have some poem appropriate for RevLinda, by all means, please share it here. Thanks in advance.
Location: stampin' and scrappin' in my craft room in PA!
subscribing...this is awesome! Thanks for all the hard work Rush'd lady! This is simply wonderful...and for revlinda...let me look for you...not strange at all...unfortunately, all the more common anymore...but I'll go through some of my poetry and bookmarked sites and look for you!
Wow! Thanks Rush'd Lady, The lovely poem really does say it all. I am literally on a QUEST to learn to respond to tough times in ways that really benefit the person struggling. Grief in all forms is such a lonely business. I want so much to lift and share the load. I remember reading about the cancer survivor who told SCS about a dear friend who sent a special card EACH week of her ordeal.
My mind has created bunches of cards to partner the sentiment. Now I just have to discipline myself to create and SEND them. The verse is appropriate for so many situations. Again, thanks for sharing.
When I miscarried my much-wanted first baby, the thing that helped me the most was a card from my sister that said my baby was in heaven. Somehow, I could picture my baby being carried in the arms of Jesus and that was so comforting to me.
Then when my father passed away suddenly, the letters we received from people writing about some incident that they remembered about him (he was such a prankster), helped us know that he wasn't forgotten and we could laugh through our grief. So please, please make and send those cards and letters. Make the most of your opportunity to care and comfort her/him.
The compassionate cards and letters we received are the things we remember the best, knowing somebody cared about our hurt. I remember my dad got flowers at his funeral, but I don't remember now who sent them, however, the letters/cards we shared together for several weeks after the funeral (I believe my mother still has many of them) helped to ease our pain. It's the tangible comfort she can reread and relive my dad's life.
Also, share photos. My mother has many scrapbooks and she said, although it was hard to put them together, at the same time it was healing too.
I'm looking to compile a Church History/Spiritual Heritage Album and was wondering if anyone had poetry that might be suitable for that subject? I have this poem, for example:
Church in a Schoolhouse.
By Thelma Burleson.
Church in a schoolhouse -- no spire and no steeple,
Just a group of good humble people;
Shabbily dressed, but in their best, those brave pioneers
Came to worship God, and let Him dispel their fears.
No recreation room or kitchen in that church was found.
But we were blessed with all day preaching and dinner on the ground.
We had no budget committee to settle our fate
Just relied on God, and passed the plate.
Church in a schoolhouse -- one roomed at that
They were all over this country -- Oak Dale, Little Rush and Elm Flat.
We had no stained glass windows or dome
But we took a Spiritual blessing back home.
At the old double desks, hands folded in prayer
A feeling of reverence ALWAYS was there.
Sunday School in the cloak room for the littlest child.
The bright Sunday School cards were hoarded and filed.
The lessons he learned there, he kept all his life
To help him withstand todayís turmoil and strife.
A sonnet is a love poem with fourteen lines of ten syllables that originated during the Italian Renaissance. Sonnet means "little song" in Italian. Originally popularized by Shakespeare, both Elizabeth Barret Browning and Alfred Lord Tennyson were famous for their sonnets composed during the Victorian era.
Here's an example:
Your name, my sweet Joseph, cannot define
A lover, a teacher, father of three,
The light of my life, my partner in crime,
The talented person I wish I could be.
I know that you're there whenever I fall
To mend my tattered wings with steady hands.
Your smile never fading through it all,
For you're the one who always understands.
As I look back upon our thirty years
I know that I would do it all the same.
I'd cherish every laugh and all the tears
And vow again to proudly take your name.
My faithful man if only you could know
How grateful I am now of Cupid's bow.
Mom's working on her heritage scrapbook and she said she received this poem in her email. She said she reworked it a bit to suit her page:
Old Feed Sack
In that Long ago time when things were saved
When roads were graveled and barrels were saved,
When worn-out clothing was used as rags,
And there were no plastic wrap or bags,
And the well was way down south,
A versatile item, was the feed sack.
The sack could be filled with feathers and down,
For a pillow, or t’would make a nice sleeping gown.
It could carry a book and be a school bag,
Or become a mail sack slung over a nag.
It made a very convenient pack,
That adaptable cotton feed sack.
Bleached and sewn, it was dutifully worn
As bibs, diapers, or kerchief adorned.
It was made into skirts, blouses and slips,
And mom braided rugs from one hundred strips,
She made ruffled curtains for the house or shack,
From that humble but treasured feed sack!
It reminded me of a poem I had seen sometime ago online. Anybody remember flour sacks?
Flour Sack Underwear
By Ruth Gettle.
When I was a maiden fair
Mama made our underwear
With five tots and paw’s poor pay
How could she buy loungerie?
Monograms and Fancy stitches
Were not on our flour sack britches
Panty waists that stood the test
With Gold Metal on the chest.
Little pants the best of all
With a scene I still recall
Harvesters were gleaning wheat
Right across the little seat.
Tougher than a grizzly bear
Was our flour sack underwear
Plain or fancy three feet wide
Stronger than a hippos’ hide.
Through the years each Jill and Jack
Wore this sturdy garb of sack
Waste not, want not, we soon learned
A penny saved, a penny earned.
Bedspreads, curtains, tea towels, too,
Tablecloths to name a few.
But the best beyond compare
Was our flour sack underwear!
I found this web site the other day: http://trainland.tripod.com/poems1.htm. It has so many poems written by a mother who has a child with autism. Her words have affected me deeply since I too have a child affected by autism.
I relate to this poem all to well...
The School Bus
When he was two
I put him on the bus
he was just a baby
my little baby.
going to a school
to learn what I
in all my wisdom
could not teach him.
I took him to the bus stop
holding back the tears,
handing him over
I had not expected
this, I had looked forward
to days filled with
fun and laughter,
playing in the park
jumping in puddles,
and swinging high in the air.
He still had those baby cheeks,
and his hands were pudgy
I had not cut his hair ever
and it fell down around
This was not supposed
I was being robbed,
I was supposed to have
had this little child
for three more years.
I should have been the one
to help him learn
to show him the world.
But I could not even
teach him who he was.
I had to come to grips
with that knowledge
that others, would teach
my child, that my hands
were not the hands
to guide him.
I had to let him go
in order to gather him home.
He didnt care that
I had put him on a bus
to go to a school, where
they would try and reach him.
He didn't turn to wave
as I stood on the sidewalk
blowing a kiss.
No tears were shed
by the baby in the school bus,
no goodbyes for the
mother on the street.
He sat clutching his
reciting the alphabet
over and over.
When the bus pulled away
I walked home,
holding in tears
that promised to fall.
Opening the door
the stillness hit me,
the quiet, the solitude.
I was not ready for this,
that bus had taken away my baby.
I wanted to run after it
screaming for it to stop
I wanted to grab that
small boy, hold him
and hurry home.
Sing to him, bake cookies
and rock him to sleep.
But I could not,
his only hope was
the bus that would take
him to a place where
loving hands would work
their magic, would tend
And so it was,
that day when
the school bus came.
I let him go.
Autism is not the end of the World
. . . . just
the beginning of a new one.
Have you read any poetry by Edgar Guest? If not, I'd suggest trying to find a book of his poetry and there are several, at your local library or at a used bookstore. You'll be glad you did! He's one of my favorites!
By Maxine Smith.
A surprise was in my mailbox
From a pen pal far away
A new friend trading lifestyles
Has brightened up my day.
Exchanging ideas and hobbies
Enriches life it seems
Sharing tales of family
Of goals, hopes and dreams.
Reaching out and caring
For folks along the way
Thank you, friend for the letter
You sent to me today.
A Tribute in Verse.
By Faith Waterman.
I sent a poem across the sea
Not knowing it would bring to me,
Letters and cards to brighten my day,
Thots and kind wishes from USA
I must have heard from every state;
I think you folks are really great.
To all who wrote I would like to say,
If I don’t answer right away,
Wait awhile, I’ll answer all;
Let no one say, I failed the call,
To cement firm friendship ‘tween USA,
And my lovely country in the UK
In closing, Dear Ed: I think it’s a shame,
But last time, you misspelt my name.
I don’t put all the blame on you,
I expect my terrible writing helped too,
I’ll print it this time as plain as I can,
Best wishes to all, Faith Waterman.
2 Corinthians 3:2-3. "You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts."
The Gospel According to You
There’s a sweet old story translated for men
But writ in the long, long ago --
The Gospel according to Mark, Luke and John --
Of Christ and His mission below.
You are writing a gospel, a chapter each day,
By deeds that you do, by words that you say,
Men read what you write, whether faithless or true,
Say, what is the gospel according to you?
Men read and admire the Gospel of Christ,
With its love so unfailing and true;
But what do they say, and what do they think
Of the gospel according to you?
You are writing each day a letter to men;
Take care that the writing is true.
‘Tis the only gospel some men will read,
That gospel according to you.
================================= Take My Life and Let It Be
By Frances R. Havergal, 1874
Take my life and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love;
Take my feet and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee.
Take my voice and let me sing
Always, only, for my King;
Take my lips and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold
Take my intellect and use
Every power as Thou shalt choose.
Take my will and make it Thine,
It shall be no longer mine;
Take my heart, it is Thine own,
It shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure-store;
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all, for Thee.
My Grandma says Iíve Daddyís nose,
Before I came, heíd two, I spose;
She always adds, ďand what is more,
Youíve Motherís eyes.Ē Did she have four?
They say I got my mouth and chin
From Grandmaís husband, Benjamin.
He died before I came, you see,
And must have willed them both to me.
I understand about my hair,
For Daddyís head is kind of bare.
But what Iíd like to really know,
What puzzles me and tries me so,
Is, am I just some odds and ends,
Parts of my relatives and friends;
Or do you think that it can be
Thereís something left thatís really me?
Isnít it interesting how we always examine babies to determine who they resemble. And rightly so -- heritage is important. Weíre delighted to see our good qualities passed on to our children -- and the bad ones always come from the other side of the family. But even more, we should examine ourselves to see how well we resemble our Heavenly Father. (Donna Fletcher Crow.)
==================================== Kittens By the Yard.
By Mable McNenny.
A yard of kittens on my wall
Playful, roly-poly, small.
And little ones look up and stare
Wide-eyed to see them frolic there.
A yard of cats, no two the same,
Corralled within a picture frame.
================================== The Psalm of the Good Teacher
By Henry Van Dyke
The Lord is my Teacher;
I shall not lose the way to wisdom.
He leadeth me in the lowly path of learning,
He prepareth a lesson for me every day,
He findeth the clear fountain of instruction --
Little by little He showeth me the beauty of truth.
The world is a great book that He has written,
He turneth the leaves for me slowly;
They are all inscribed with images and letters --
His voice poureth light on the pictures and the words.
Then am I glad when I perceive His meaning;
He taketh me by the hand to the hill-top of wisdom;
In the valley, also, He walketh beside me,
And in the dark places He whispereth in my heart.
Yea, though my lesson be hard, it is not hopeless,
For the Lord is very patient with His slow scholar.
He will wait awhile for my weakness --
He will help me to read the truth through tears --
Surely Thou wilt enlighten me daily by joy and by sorrow,
And lead me at last, O Lord, to the perfect knowledge of Thee.
for Jan Tink: Needlecraft.
By Norah Smaridge. 1979.
In beauty shops, youíll find me sitting
Intent upon a shawl Iím knitting;
Iím halfway through a luncheon set
In cross-stitch, thatís the nicest yet,
Iíve promised, too, sometime or other
To weave an afgan for my mother,
And, for the fall, Iím wondering whether
To make a waistcoat in blue leather;
Iím working on a padded stool
In needlepoint, at evening school --
(And someday Iíll get round perhaps,
To sewing up my shoulder straps!)
Easter Poems, The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in New England poem,
The Turkey Shot Out of the Oven, Thanksgiving Power, Thanksgiving Day, Gifts in a jar mixes can all be found at www.oldfashionedliving.com