A Birthday Gift

She lived a life of solitude.
She lived a life in vain.
She lived a life in which there was
A strong, ongoing pain.

She had no friends on which to lean
And cry her problems to.
She had no friends to give her love
And hope and kindness, too.

She thought about it day and night;
She lay upon her bed.
Her mind made up, she grabbed a gun
And put it to her head

Just then a ring came from the phone.
She pulled the gun away.
Her mom was on the other end
And wanted just to say,

"Happy Birthday, my dear girl.
Today is just for you.
I care for you will all my heart,
I hope you know that's true."

These words ran through her mind so much.
The gun was down for good.
She changed her mind about her life
And then she changed her mood.

She thought about this special day
And what her mom had said.
The gift her mom gave her that day
Was the gift of life, again.

--Thad Langerberg

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I Am Your Child

I am your clay.
It is your firm but loving touch that will
shape me, my values and my goals.
I am your paper.
it is on my that your ideas and
feelings will be recorded, often
without your reading it, and
carried on for many years.
I am your student.
It is through the help of your teachings and examples
that I will learn life's most important lessons.
I am your garden.
It is up to you to provide me with much-needed care
and attention, but, at the same time, room to grow.
I am your rainbow.
It is I who will bring you delight and joy after you've
been through a storm, if only you look closely.
I am your mirror.
It is in me that many parts of you will be reflected,
and if you've succeeded in doing your job, the image
will radiate beauty, warmth and love.
I am your child.

--Denise Marigold

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Mama's Hands

I saw your hands in line,
behind that lady fair,
I noticed too, hers soft and white-
immaculate from care.
Bu Ma, I say, it's not disgrace
to have working' hands like you,
and had she lived the life you have,
she'd have hands just like it too.

But her hands have never hauled in wood,
or worked in God's good earth.
They've never felt the bitter cold,
or chopped ice for waitin' stock,
they've never doctored sick ones,
or dressed a horse's hock.
They've never pulled a hip-licked calf,
or packed water to the barn.
They've probably never patched blue jeans,
or had worn ol' socks to darn.

They've never touched a young'n,
or caressed a fevered head,
with hands so gently folded,
all night beside his bed.

They've never scrubbed a kitchen floor,
or done dishes every day.
They've never guided with those hands
a child who's lost the way.

They've never made a Christmas gift,
shaped by a lovin' hand.
They've never peeled apples,
nor vegetables they've canned.
They've never worn a blister,
or had calluses to show,
for all they've done for others,
and the kindnesses I know.

So you see, my dearest Mama-
yours are hands of love.
And I bet the Lord will notice
when he greets you from above.

--Tommi Jo Casteel

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Never Enough

Sometimes I know the word to say,
Give thanks for all you've done,
But then they fly up and away,
As quickly as they come.

How could I possibly thank you enough,
The one who makes me whole,
The one to whom I owe my life,
The forming of my soul.

The one who tucked me in at night,
The one who stopped my crying,
The one who was the expert,
At picking up when I was lying.

The one who saw me off to school,
And spent sad days alone,
Yet magically produced a smile,
As soon as I came home.

The one who makes such sacrifices,
To always put me first,
Who lets me test my broken wings,
In spite of how it hurts.

Who paints the world a rainbow,
When it's filled with broken dreams,
Who explains is all so clearly,
When nothing's what it seems.

Are there really any words for this?
I find this question tough...
Anything I want t say,
Just doesn't seem enough.

What way is there to thank you,
For your heart, your sweet, your tears,
For ten thousand little things you've done,
For oh-so-many years.

For changing with me as I changed,
Accepting all my flaws,
Not loving 'cause you had to,
But loving "just because."

For never giving up on me,
When your wits had reached their end,
For always being proud of me,
For being my best friend.

And so I come to realize,
The only way to say,
The only thank you that's enough,
Is clear in just one way.

Look at me before you,
See what I've become,
Do you see yourself in me?
The job that you have done?

All your hopes and all your dreams,
The strength that no one sees,
A transfer over many years,
Your best was passed to me.

Thank you for the gifts you give,
For everything you do,
But thank you, Mommy, most of all,
For making dreams come true.

Love,
Your Daughter

--Laurie Kalb

Take Me Back To The Top