More precious than gold,
or any rare jewel
A genuine friend
is a very valued tool
For without their love
tenderness and care
Our soul and our hearts
Would always be bare
For people may come along
And they may go away
But a genuine friend
Shall always stay
This page is dedicated to the friends who were always by my side, through thick and thin
And even when I was unbearable
they were there. . .
Please Listen
When I ask you to listen to me
and you start giving me advice,
you have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me
and you begin to tell me why
I shouldn't feel that way,
you are trampling on my feelings.
When I ask you to listen to me
and you feel you have to do something
to solve my problem,
you have failed me,
strange as that may seem.
Listen! All I ask is that you listen.
Don't talk or do--just hear me.
Advice is cheap; 20 cents will get
you both Dear Abby and Billy Graham
in the same newspaper.
And I can do for myself; I am not helpless.
Maybe discouraged and faltering,
but not helpless.
When you do something for me than I can
and need to do for myself,
you contribute to my fear and
inadequacy.
But when you accept as a simple fact
that I feel what I feel,
no matter how irrational,
then I can stop trying to convince
you and get about this business
of understanding what's behind
this irrational feeling.
And when that's clear, the answers are
obvious and I don't need advice.
Irrational feelings make sense when
we understand what's behind them.
Perhaps that's why prayer works, sometimes,
for some people--because God is mute,
and he doesn't give advice or try
to fix things.
God just listens and lets you work
it out for yourself.
So please listen, and just hear me.
And if you want to talk, wait a minute
for your turn--and I will listen to you.
--Author Unknown
My New Best Friend
Today I met a great new friend
Who knew me right away
It was funny how she understood
All I had to say
She listened to my problems
She listened to my dreams
We talked about love and life
She'd been there, too, it seems
I never once felt judged by her
She knew just how I felt
She seemed to just accept me
And all the problems I'd been dealt
She didn't interrupt me
Or need to have her say
She just listened very patiently
And didn't go away
I wanted her to understand
How much this meant to me
But as I went to hug her
Something startled me
I put my arms in front of me
And went to pull her nearer
And realized that my new best friend
Was nothing but a mirror
--retold by K. Kirberger
Paint Brush
I keep my paint brush with me
Wherever I may go,
In case I need to cover up
So the real me doesn't show.
I'm so afraid to show you me,
Afraid of what you'll do--that
You might laugh or say mean things.
I'm afraid I might lose you.
I'd like to remove all my paint coats
To show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you'll be patient and close your eyes,
I'll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
To let the real me show.
Now my coats are all stripped off.
I feel naked, bare and cold,
And if you still love me with all that you see,
You are my friend, pure as gold.
I need to save my paint brush, though,
And hold it in my hand,
I want to keep it handy
In case somebody doesn't understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
And thanks for loving me,
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.
--Bettie B. Youngs