Stories From My Garden: Another Year of Life, Love, and Laughter

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Another Year of Life, Love, and Laughter

Thank you for another birthday. Which also means that like this entry's title, I am blessed with another year of life, love and laughter.

After today, I pray for another year to grow richer in knowledge and insight of every kind... That I will learn by experience what really matters... That on the day that I appear before God, He will welcome me as a flawless gift, a rich harvest of praise...

May the Lord bless me and keep me... May He shed His light upon me... May He look upon me kindly and give me peace...

Rejoice in the Lord always.
I will say it again: Rejoice!
Philippians 4:4

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God's Bouquet

You must bloom where you are planted,
In the garden we call life,
And bring some special beauty,
To each corner where there's strife.
Perhaps you're but a dandelion,
Wishing you were a rose,
Yet in this place of growingthings,
You're the one God chose.
It's up to you to finish,
What the good Lord has begun,
By growing just the way youshould,
And face each day's new rising sun.
There's room for you if you choose,
To be in a glorious array,
Of beauty from God's garden,
That He'll add to His bouquet.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:--
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth (1815)