Hind's Feet

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice. Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice (Act IV, Scene I)

I am your Parent, you are my Child I am your Quiet Place, you are my Wild I am your Calm Face, you are my Giggle I am your Wait, you are my Wiggle I am your Dinner, you are my Chocolate Cake I am your Bedtime, you are my Wide Awake I am your Lullaby, you are my Peekaboo I am your Goodnight Kiss, you are my I Love You (From the book "You Are My I Love You" by Maryann Cusimano)

by George Cooper "Come, little leaves" said the wind one day, "Come over the meadows with me, and play; Put on your dresses of red and gold; Summer is gone, and the days grow cold." Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call, Down they came fluttering, one and all; Over the brown fields they danced and flew, Singing the soft little songs they knew. "Cricket, good-bye, we've been friends so long; Little brook, sing us your farewell song- Say you're sorry to see us go; Ah! you are sorry, right well we know. "Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold, Mother will keep you from harm and cold; Fondly we've watched you in vale and glade; Say, will you dream of our loving shade?" Dancing and whirling the little leaves went; Winter had called them and they were content- Soon fast asleep in their earthly beds, The snow laid a soft mantle over their heads. 

Some would gather money Along the path of life; Some would gather roses, And rest from worldly strife. But I would gather children From among the thorns of sin; I would seek a golden curl, And a freckled, toothless grin. For money cannot enter In that land of endless day; And roses that are gathered Soon will wilt along the way. But, oh, the laughing children, As I cross the sunset sea, And the gates swing wide to heaven  I can take them in with me. -Author Unknown

No children in the house to play-- It must be hard to live that way! I wonder what the people do When night comes on and the work is through, With no glad little folks to shout, No eager feet to race about, No youthful tongues to chatter on About the joy that's been and gone? The house might be a castle fine, But what a lonely place to dine! No children in the house at all, No fingermarks upon the wall, No corner where the toys are piled-- Sure indication of a child. No little lips to breathe the prayer That God shall keep you in His care, No glad caress and welcome sweet When night returns you to your street; No little lips a kiss to give-- Oh, what a lonely way to live! No children in the house! I fear We could not stand it half a year. What would we talk about at night, Plan for and work with all our might, Hold common dreams about and find True union of heart and mind, If we two had no greater care Than what we both should eat and wear? We never kn...

It's funny how it leaves you for a bit, and you become unguarded, and merrily roll along and then WALLOP, up side the head it comes. Maybe you noticed the date, maybe you smelled a familiar scent, maybe you didn't do anything except suddenly start bawling at this thing or that for no apparent reason. No... just a cat hair in my eye. No... just allergies of some sort. No... Christians shouldn't be so sensitive, you're right. And you wonder what on earth has gotten into you. It's not hormones... not time to PMS or ovulate... and WHAM it hits you. You still miss them. Achingly so. How can your heart contain it? Why doesn't it just burst and dissipate into nothingness like a vapor? You want to run to them for comfort, but they aren't there to comfort you. You want to run away, but there is no where to go that grief won't find you.. walloping you and whamming you relentlessly like waves. Except. In the arms of Jesus. The Steadfast Love of the L...

Some houses try to hide the fact that children shelter there, Ours boasts of it quite openly, the signs are everywhere, For smears are on the windows, little smudges on the door, I should apologise I guess for toys shrewn on the floor, But I sat down with the children and we played and laughed and read, And if the windows do not shine, their eyes will shine instead, And when at times I'm forced to choose the one job or the other, I want to be a housewife, but first I'll be a mother.

by Emily Dickinson Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.