My Own Writings

The best moments in life are when we believe. When we believe happiness fills our mind, but when we doubt sadness engulfs us. We must believe in life, in the flowers, in people, in the cheerful birds, in God, in the sunlight, in the stars, in the earth, and in ourselves to find happiness.

We must believe in life, in tomorrow, in our actions, in the way of life we are living, in our words and thoughts, in our purpose on this earth if we wish for happiness. We must believe especially when the days are gray and overcast, when the nights are dark, and when the roads are the roughest.

We must believe despite the hopelessness of the moment, despite the seemingly impossible dream, despite how much other people and our doubts tell us not to, because believing is our only hope.

And what if men deny the beauty in life? What if our very heart denies it? What if death denies the promise of life? What if the bad denies the good? Does that make these things not so? In moments of despondency we hate others and we hate ourself, and almost we hate life, but does that blot out the fact that at other times we love, and hope, and believe? Does a cloudy, rainy day make void all the sunny days? Do our doubts and fears make less real the moments when we feel wonder and awe for all the world?

We are at the threshold of a whole new world, that of love. We have stepped out of that great darkness of insensitivity and savagery. The light is blinding. We fall back frightened and confused, dazzled by that too brilliant light. We relapse into wars and instances of inhuman brutality, but slowly we are becoming accustomed to the glare of that sun.

We are haltingly, and with much hesitation, but perceptively turning our backs on the darkness. There lies before us a world of untold wonders and glories in which the promises are illimitable. The adventures of stepping forth into that world of love, a world abundant with giving, caring, and ministering, are yet to be recorded.

I'll keep a garden in my heart. I will fill it with roses and hyacinths. There will be a clear blue pool in the midst of it. Bluebirds will be there and snow white doves. I will line the banks with periwinkle, and around all I will place your love. Time, that great robber will not have the power to purloin one moment there. The killing frost will not touch there, and only gentle showers will fall. When the days grow gray and somber, and I am sick and weary with the desolate years, I will retire into my heart and live there with you.

I love the green things of earth. I love the grass, the trees, the vines, and the tiny plants. I feel for them a sense of attachment which fills my thought with joy each time I see them. Indeed my love for them seems to grow stronger as I grow older. To the plant kingdom I owe the better portion of my life. My happiest moments have been in the woods and fields observing and feeling a part of the wonderful world of green plants.

A generous supply of luscious, green, growing plants would be to me a paradise. I am never so at ease as I am when a vernal setting surrounds me, when grass is at my feet and the treetops above my head, and when birds are singing cheerful songs in my ear.

Then, if at anytime, I feel free and at peace. At such times my darker thoughts, if not fully put from my mind, are at least so submerged they can do me no harm. I feel a music within not unlike I think what the gentle songbird feels or the beautiful flower. That such moments are rare makes one treasure them even more. All our life is vanity and vexation except for those few moments when we are filled with quietness.

Life is infinitely worth the living, even though we fowl up at every turn, even though it seems we are always out in the rain, and our heart is always torn up. Life is infinitely worth the living even though we are all mixed up, even though we cannot see the stars for the clouds, and night stays on way too long.

Life is infinitely worth the living, because people do sometimes seem to care, because there are flowers and rainbows, blue skies and whip-poor-wills, because on the other side of every trouble there is a quietness. Life is infinitely worth the living because our pains and pleasures are as those of all people, because the best days are those after hardship, and God has placed within us more strength than we suspected. And most of all because we share a wondrous universe and have an opportunity to reach paradise.

Kindness is a sign of progress. Kindness is an indicator of how civilized a community really is. It is perhaps the only true indicator. The hope of the human race exists in kindness, for it is protector of dignity, freedom, and life. It has been an uphill struggle toward kindness, compassion, and understanding.

There have been dark ages in the history of humanity which were almost devoid of kindness, but not quite. Always there has been that little ray of kindness that has inspired humanity to overcome the darkness, and to forsake the ways of cruelty and inhumanity, and seek the peace and harmony that surrounds people who care for one another.

To acquire kindness is the highest attainment a person may boast of achieving, for it is the perfection of the human soul. Cruelty is a step backward as is callous disregard for life. The future of human beings depends on their ability to preserve and cultivate kindness, to let kindness predominate all their decisions, and be the guiding power for all they do.

In a world were dependence on one another is essential kindness is all important, for without it there is no assurance of safety or co-operation between people. To discard kindness even momentarily can be disasterous. Any meaningful existence or true relationship with other people demands kindness. A world without kindness would not be a world desirable in which to live.

Concern for other people should be our prime motive in life. If we deny the rights of one person then we endanger the rights of all people. If we maltreat one person and permit that person's abuse to go unnoticed and unpunished then we jeopardize the safety of us all, and initiate the unravelment of the very fabric of our society.

If we allow someone to starve when it is in our power to feed them, or allow someone to suffer when we have the means to aid them, then we commit against that person and society a heinous crime. Each person is born with certain rights which are sacred and inalienable. It should be our lifelong task to preserve, dignify, and uphold the rights of the individual, for once concern for the individual and the individual's rights are lost humanity faces a bleak future.

A concerned society is a productive, healthy, and growing group of people, whereas an unconcerned society is sick and destroying itself, while neglecting its people. The future of mankind, if there is to be a future, depends on the concern one person shows for another, and whether in the end selfishness or brotherly love wins out.

Frogs are one of nature's major gifts to children. Those somewhat slimy, green, knob-eyed monstrosities are a never ending source of novelty to youngsters. Sitting beside a pool of water in a seemingly half dreaming mood, a frog enchants the passerby. How they love to dive into the water with one magnificent leap. The expression of a frog is one of great contentment. A huge smile is constantly on their face. Trying to catch a frog is a difficult matter, for they dart and maneuver with the utmost alacrity, and in addition to all that, they are exceedingly slick.

Frogs prefer cool watery envorinments. Puddles, little rills, and creeks all shaded with weeds and grass growing right up to the edge of the water, suit them fine. I remember them from my childhood, and little did I know then that some of my fondest memories would be about them. Not about frogs in particular perhaps, but about places where they were about and mingled in the scenes. I remember the little ones no bigger than my thumb which I tried to catch, and I remember the big old green bullfrogs bigger than my fist. I recall them in the spring of the year especially when they sang loudly and seemed to be everywhere. In the heat of summer they are quiet except after a rain.

I walk out among the trees and I hear sounds as old as life itself. I hear the wind and birds, bees and insects. I hear the rustling leaves. It's all old, and yet it is ever new. New people are always listening and hearing much the same thing as those of old. The sun shines, the flowers bloom, and the stream is cold and clear for each new generation.

Sometimes storm clouds gather, and sometimes it is bright and clear, the evening shadows obscure, and the morning rays illumine, and the seasons come and go. The sounds of June are different from the sounds of December. The stillness blankets the winter, except for the wailing wind. What I hear all mankind hears, for it is a worldwide message that has been noted in every land since the birth of men and words.

I hope there will always be these wondrous things in the natural world about us. I hope there will always be sunsets, and apple pies, and ribbons in the hair of little girls. I hope the stars will always shine, and flowers will always bloom. I hope there will always be springtime, and cats to meow and dogs to bark, and roosters to crow.

I hope there will always be clouds and blue skies, and fishing worms for little boys. I hope there will always be games and laughter. I hope that people will always have a sense of history, and a great hope for the future.

Loving someone enhances our own human worth. Love is the only true wealth. It enriches our heart, and all those whom it touches. When loving we forget for a time to be selfish, we forget to fear and doubt, we forget our grievances against others.

Something happens to a human being that cannot happen otherwise when he loves. Doors open for him that would have otherwise forever remained shut. He is spectator of new worlds, worlds he never dreamed existed. More than anything else love purges the brute from him, and instills a recognition of what is most beautiful and pure.

What is a kitten? A kitten is a little bundle of fun, a fluffy, lively, happy ball of fur that makes us laugh in spite of ourself. With antics and games the kitten entertains us for hours. The games include chasing butterflies, trying to pounce on grasshoppers, wrestling with brother, climbing fence posts, or just racing across the yard with abandon.

With tail up, back raised in a bow, and the hair on its neck standing on end, the kitten takes his stance when the dog comes near. Kittens are blessed by nature with a carefree attitude, and just like children one moment they are perturbed, but the next they are up and playing again as if nothing ever happened.

From the first when he wobbles out on shaky legs a kitten is curious as he seems fascinated by the world. Every little thing attracts his attention. A kitten is one of the most playful of creatures. His day is filled with play, and his young life is a continuous holiday.

Though the older a cat grows the less inclined is he to play as his games are of a more serious kind, that of stalking his prey and making trips in search of food. Little kittens are not concerned about such grownup matters however, as it is run, jump, and play in youthful jubilance for that all too brief period of time in life. A six week old kitten whose eyes have just opened to the world is a never ceasing source of enjoyment to those of us who watch.

Deep in a field of clover there dwells the meadowlark. His is the world of open fields and silent dells. The meadowlark is a gift to the quiet places. He is a pleasant member of a pleasant realm. His music sweetens the summer air hallowing the world of butterflies and bumblebees, and making the clover blossoms to dance.

He dispels our loneliness with his song of delight as he lifts us to those heights he enjoys, reviving our sense of what is beautiful and good in life. Walking on the ground the meadowlark resembles the quail, though somewhat smaller, with a V for victory on his yellow chest. His brown-streaked back, black cross bars over the eyes, and white tail feathers distiguish him.

He never seems a part of hurry or confusion. He frequents not the haunts of people, but spends his hours in harmonious and secluded habitats. If we would see him we must climb the hill, go through the woods, and enter a sequestered valley where sunlight and shade abound, where trees and grass mingle in tenderness, and each being exhibits a zest for life.

Each of us hopes for something good along the way. We hope for something good, or true, or beautiful. We hope for something lasting, and for something that means something. We hope for rainbows, springtime, bright stars, sparkling waters, and happy sounds.

We hope for little yellow flowers, great blue skies, and gentle breezes to cool our brow. We hope for bright eyes, tender smiles, and kind touches. We hope for fair weather, smooth sailing, and easy going. But most of all we hope for hope. We hope that whatever condition life throws us into that we will be able to summon up enough of that precious article called hope to go on living.