" Monsters do exist "

“ Monsters do exist “

On Monday, Billy didn't have his homework
And when the teacher asked him why
He said, "Because a monster ripped it up,
After I told him a lie."                                                                                                              "You know monsters don't exist,
And if you don't turn in your homework
No break-time you will get

On Tuesday, Billy had a stomach ache
And when the teacher asked him why
He said, "A monster took away my dinner,
even my ice cream."                                                                                                                                 "Billy, I've told you once before,
Monsters are not real.
You'll have to wait till lunchtime
Before you get a meal."

On Wednesday, Billy had a bandage,
Which covered his right eye.
When the teacher asked him how it happened,
This was his reply:                                                                                                                                                          "A monster was running after me
When I ran into the door:"
"Billy please," the teacher said,
"I don't want to hear any more."

On Thursday, Billy refused to sit down,
And when the teacher asked him why,
Billy said, "A monster whipped my bottom,
Because I started to cry,"                                                                                                                        "Billy, said the teacher,
" this is getting out of hand,
And if you continue with these stories,
In the corner you will stand."

On Friday, Billy didn't come to school,
And when the teacher found out why,
She said a little prayer to God
In hopes Billy would survive.                                                                                                                 For a monster had beaten Billy
and threatened him with a knife.
Now Billy lay in a hospital bed,
Fighting for his life.

So teachers please remember,
That monsters are for real.
Listen closely to kids stories,
A wounded heart you may heal

Author Unknown...
The Pain To Children is All Too Real.

True Love and Remembering

TRUE LOVE

It was approximately 8.30 a.m. on a busy morning when an elderly gentleman in his eighties arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9.00 a.m.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat. I knew it would take more than an hour before someone would be able to attend to him. I saw him check his watch anxiously for the time and decided to evaluate his wound since I was not busy with another patient.

On examination, the wound was well healed. Hence, I talked to one of the doctors to get the supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

We began to engage in a conversation while I was taking care of his wound. I asked him if he had another doctor’s appointment later as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no and said that he needed to go to the nursing home to have breakfast with his wife.

I inquired about her health. He told me that she had been in the nursing home for a while as she was a victim of Alzheimer’s disease. I probed further and asked if she would be upset if he was slightly late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was and she had not been able to recognize him some five years ago.

I asked him in surprise,  you still go every morning, even though she doesn’t know who you are? He smiled as he patted my hand and said, She doesn’t know me, but I still know who she is.

I had goose bumps on my arm, and I thought, That is the kind of love I want in my life.

True love is neither physical nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

Remembering.     Ashley Campbell

Four years old running up the stairs to your bed
Thunder rolls and I pull the covers over my head
You say it's just a storm, enjoy the show
You take me to the window, show me that it's beautiful
Never had to ask you to sing for me
It's just the way to put me at ease

“Bone for bone we are the same
Bones get tired and they can't carry all the weight
We can talk until you can't even remember my name
Daddy don't you worry, I'll do the remembering
Daddy don't you worry, I'll do the remembering”

First guitar and I just wasn't getting it right
You showed me how to play it, said it doesn't happen overnight
And in a couple years I come home and show you how I play "Blackbird"
And though I miss a couple notes you still say
That it was the best you'd ever heard

Never had to ask you to smile for me
It's just the way you put me at ease
Bone for bone we are the same
Bones get tired and they can't carry all the weight
We can talk until you can't even remember my name
Daddy don't you worry, I'll do the remembering
Daddy don't you worry, I'll do the remembering

Now I have to ask you to sing for me
And I have to show you the words to sing
You're standing right in front of me and slipping away

Keep your fork !

Keep your fork!

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
"There's one more thing," she said excitedly..
"What's that?" came the Pastor's reply.
"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.
The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, "Keep your fork." It was my favourite part because I knew that something better was coming .... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!"
"So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder... "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come."
The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about
what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity, but a sweet responsibility.
Share this to everyone you consider a FRIEND... and I'll bet this will be a message they do remember, every time they pick up a fork!

And just remember ... keep your fork!  -  The BEST is yet to come!

You will never look at a fork the same way again!

" Look for me in the trees. I will be there in the trees "

‘After the death of my children, Christmas is a black surround, without tinsel’

Sat, Dec 21, 2019, 06:30

‘Losing a child is like having your heart torn out and your stomach emptied’

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Sir, – At this time of year, families are dreaming of seeing their loved ones. The loved ones coming back by sea, or touching down on tarmac, flowing through the arrivals lounge of airports, warm-cheeked and teary-eyed, breaking the barrier to the warm homely arms of childhood. Or coming by car, snapping the car doors shut for a while and walking in the front door of old familiarity – the family home. This is miracle-making.

Eighteen years ago this Christmas, my first child of three, my daughter was very ill and she died early in the New Year. It was a meteorite falling on a family that was already rocked by loss and absence. Since then, our family has been cruelly pared back to one, myself, the mother, living alone at home.

At night I sleep to the rattles of an empty house. Even the wind has a faraway cry when it rattles at the window. My three children, my daughter and two sons died from Cystic Fibrosis, a genetic disease of the lungs. They lived a full and spirited life together, their illness did not define them. They were witty, intelligent, and gifted with homegrown talents that filled this home with music and liveliness. They expressed their true selves to their world of friends, and gave of themselves freely and honestly.

Losing a child is like having your heart torn out and your stomach emptied. Grief gets in the way of daylight, not to mention the nocturnal dark.

Christmas is a black surround, without tinsel, while the masses are plumping up the shopping streets.

But grief can be another day on the wheel, when paradoxically a blue sky can unveil and a white egret appears in the branch. I have named him Doy after my youngest son, whose pet name was Doy. He will fly and land with me as I walk beside the river in the valley behind our home.

Before Doy died, his dark eyes looked ahead and he said, “Look for me in the trees. I will be there in the trees.” – Yours, etc,

KATHLEEN KEYES,        Bray, Co Wicklow.