Lost-Missing a sense of humor

How are your bones feeling today? Do they need to be tickled?

I once believed that happiness was an elusive emotion that only lucky people, who had never experienced any type of pain, were able to enjoy. Of course, that was when I was young and ignorant of real life. Now that I've had to endure a few maturity molding experiences, I realize that everyone can feel happiness, if they desire. 

A sense of humor can help to make a bad situation turn around for good. It's really is all about how we look at things. In Proverbs 17:22, King Solomon states that "A merry heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones."

It's really up to each of us to cultivate joy in our souls, hearts, and minds, and to pass it along to others. Happiness needs to be shared. I don't mean that one should brag of their successes or, to boast of their material possessions but, rather to share the joys of what we have in common. The things that make us smile and laugh.

I want to leave you with a poem that Julie Andrews, (from the Sound of Music) a singer and actress wrote. She wrote a lot of neat poems and I'd like to share this one with you. I hope it makes you smile.

Missing

I've lost my sense of humor,
It fell into a well.
That's full of dark self-pity,
As far as I can tell.

I'm glared at by the children.
I'm yelled at by the boss
And every little word I say
Makes everybody cross.

I'd run away and not come back
It it would do some good.
But nobody would notice
So I don't think I should.

I miss my sense of humor
And if, by chance, you see
It peeking round a corner
Please send it back to me.

A sleepless night

This poem comes from a book entitled Julie Andrew's collection of Poems, Songs, and Lullabies.

Little did I know that I would use the advice in this poem when my son came to me in the middle of the night telling me he couldn't sleep. He was worrying about our truck breaking down this weekend and thought he was responsible. I knew he wasn't. I suggested he think of an episode we had recently watched together called Man in a hurry from an Andy Griffith's DVD collection. (I love the old sitcoms.) He said okay and went to back to bed.

In Man in a hurry a stranger drives by the town of Mayberry on a Sunday when his car suddenly breaks down. He desperately tries to get his car fixed but everybody he meets in Mayberry is enjoying the day. No one understands this city man's hurry. You could feel the stranger's tension by his movements and the words he says when he becomes frustrated with the sheriff Andy Taylor, Aunt Bea and Barney while they peel apples, eat ice cream and sing on the porch. The man in a hurry angrily tells them that their town is behind the times.

When his car is finally fixed, to his amazement there is no charge for the car repairs. It was a pleasure for Gomer and Goober to fix it and they even took liberty to take a picture of themselves standing next to it. Andy tells the man he can stay the night if he likes and leave in the morning.

The man declines and eagerly starts his car. Aunt Bea rushes inside and comes out again with a lunch bag of chicken for him to eat on the way. Opie gives him his special penny for good luck. Andy then tells him to drop by anytime when he comes through again. As the man looks at everyone waving and smiling at him he suddenly realizes what a lovely place Mayberry is and he wants to stay for the night. He makes up an excuse why he can't leave. Andy catches on to man's excuss. Soon after they resume listening to Andy play the guitar and the man falls asleep on the porch with a peeled apple in his hand. 

Now wouldn't that put you to sleep.

The Trick

One night, when I couldn't sleep,
My dad said
Think of the tomatoes in the greenhouse

and I did.
It wasn't the same as counting sheep
Or anything like that.

It was just not being in my room forever
On a hot bed
Restless, turning and turning,

But out there, with the patient gaze of moonlight
Blessing each ripe skin
and our old zinc watering-can with its sprinkler,

Shining through a clear glass pane
Which slowly clouded over into
Drowsy, comfortable darkness

Till I woke and came downstairs to breakfast
Saying Thank you, Dad,
I thought of them. It did the trick.

by John Mole 

Any Little Old Song

After experiencing feelings of waning interest, I've decided I would keep working on this blog. But to make it interesting and easier for me, I'm going to do it differently. Instead of interjecting my own ramblings about life or poetry, I'm going to post a poem someone else wrote. I hope it will lift people's hearts and provide intellectual stimulation. If I have information about the author I will add that. So here is the first poem to start things off.

Written by Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) born in Dorset, England. He wrote about 1,000 poems and earned several honorary degrees. Thomas Hardy never received the recognition due him for his poetic form and is considered one of the great influences on modern English poetry.

Any Little Old Song
by Thomas Hardy

Any little old song
will do for me,
Tell it of joys gone long,
or joys to be,
or friendly faces best
loved to see.

Newest themes I want not
On subtle strings,
and for thrillings pant not
that new song brings:
I only need the homeliest
of heart-stirrings.

Amazing story-A Stolen Life

I have just finished reading Jacee Dugard's book entitled 'A Stolen Life'. What an amazing woman. I am in awe of her. If you don't know the story and are interested in true personal stories of rising over adversity in one's life then I highly recommend this book. You might have seen her on a television documentary with Diane Sawyer a few weeks back in July 2011. I missed seeing that program but saw parts of it recently on YouTube after reading 'A Stolen Life'. I won't go into details of this story but will say that I shed many tears while reading Jacee's book. Mostly tears of joy for her and the freedom that she has reclaimed.
Since reading this book, I don't dare to complain about anything and I don't dare take the freedom that I have for granted. I really want to appreciate each day as a gift. And I also want to remember that everything good comes from God.
Jacee writes mostly in first person which helps you get a feel of what she went through. I have to say I was a little frightened of what I might read (don't like horrific graphic writing) and although she writes candidly of what she experienced I wasn't left feeling depressed. Jacee shows how keeping hope alive helped her survive.
Amazing story!

Back on track

Here it is the third of July 2011, and I am back. The reason for my absence was simply forgetting my password. Every once in a while I would try to enter my site; to no avail. Today, I succeeded. And I wasn't even trying. I'm so amazed!
But why did it take me so long? I am prepared to think that perhaps God had other plans for me this past year. Maybe I needed time to think, to organize, to do other things. And boy did I have a busy year. Family kept me so busy I gave up writing-only to take up sewing as a way to cope with life's pressures.
So now I want to leave you with a thought. It's fitting for this moment. It was written by Emily Dickinson who was an obsessively private writer from the mid 1800's-and only 10 of her 1700 poems were ever published during her lifetime.

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."

and.....

A Word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just begins to live
That day.

Faith is a Candle

A family friend gave us a movie to watch on the weekend. Entitled 'The Third Jihad', I found it quite disturbing. It didn't have a religious agenda from any group against another group. Rather, it was a documentary type of movie, narrated by a Muslim physician living and working in the USA warning viewers of dangers to come in the future for all democratic countries. He cares about his fellow Muslim believers and is distressed by the brainwashing that is happening to many of them by their fanatical leaders.
I'm posting a poem written by Helen Steiner Rice many years ago that is still relevant today. Hope it helps in wondering what to do about this frightful situation of hatred.

In this sick world of hatred
And violence and sin,
Where men renounce morals
And reject discipline,
We stumble in darkness
Groping vainly for light
To distinguish the difference
Between wrong and right,
But dawn cannot follow
This night of despair
Unless faith lights a candle
In all hearts everywhere
And warmed by the glow
Our hate melts away
And love lights the path
To a peaceful, new day.

A Singing Bird

I read a Chinese proverb on a calendar recently that appealed to me. "Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps the singing bird will come."

I like the "perhaps" part in this proverb. Did you know that a proverb is a meaning with a promise? Now it doesn't mean that if you do what the proverb says, than you will always have positive results or negative. It just means that your chances of obtaining good or bad results are more likely. It's a probability, but not a certainty.

Most of us want a sure thing, but I was reminded this week that the only sure thing we can expect in life are problems. After countless things going wrong, I realized that nothing is certain except problems. Things and people fall apart; relationships may suffer and need to be repaired. What I like about this proverb is that it reveals a secret to a happy life. Cultivating a positive vibrant attitude will attract positive vibrant people. I got to thinking. How does one grow a green tree inside our heart.

By living in thankfulness. In Thessalonians 5: 18 says, "In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

The writer of this verse (the apostle Paul) said to give thinks in everything. No matter what happens. Why? Because this is God's will for us. But how can we do that when bad things come our way. It's not easy, but Jesus Christ, God's Son, offers the gift of salvation to every single person on this earth so that everyone can find God. Jesus' death and suffering on the cross was for our sins, and is the reason we have hope and life. And this is certain, not a probability.

So remember, keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps the singing bird will come. Here's a little poem I wrote a while back.

Morning Greetings


The sun yawns each morning
and rubs its sleepy eyes.
Then, slowly misty ghosts
whisper, good bye and rise.
Then birds greet the morning
like a lost and cherished friend.
And earth feels right again
from beginning to end.