It is going to be a purrific day!
BTW this was a kid friendly event!
Rosella was born without rear paws and has nubs instead. She had never been outside until recently. Any ideas on how to cover her nubs for when shes outside? They are very tender, baby socks did not work.
You can totally be a rock star at anything you set your mind to.
After my Rituxan drip I just needed a break. I never get enough time here.
As children the parallel rails led to many of our destinations, On them we played without the slightest hesitation.
We’d run, jumping every other tie. So much fun, you know why?
The rails were forbidden, from us their joys no longer hidden.
On the rails a penny pressed flat, remember that?
Below the rails a cave like dwelling, my siblings would hide and I’d say, “I’m telling!”.
On the other side lie Tank Pond, of this place I wasn’t fond.
My siblings would go fast as could be, I’d scream “wait for me.”
One day on the way to school, my sister had an idea I thought was cool.
We’d lie on the ties against the rails as by us the train sails.
One time is all it took, now I’d play it by the book.
The rails thereafter had one rule, they were only to be followed to school.
Water your lawn that it might grow, come to life as if tending ones soul.
Pay no attention to the neighboring blades of grass, the green doesn’t always last.
Some days wilted and pale, “Help!” I hear the neighboring grass yell.
I ignore it as many times before, I beg of you to tend your lawn more.
Add a bit of sun and a little water, tend it as if it were a daughter.
The neighboring grass is quite a sight, yet being there does not feel right.
Tend your own pastures, lawns and gardens, tell you neighbor 1,000 pardons.
I’m sorry if often I stray, God keep me on your path I pray.
The neighboring blades of grass entice with the afternoon sun staring back at me, I am wise to its tricks you see.
In your own yard take a little pride, the grass is not always greener on the other side.
Jill L. Ware
The Bouquet is full and bright, on this God has surely shone his light.
Geraniums crimson red, the color of the blood His son shed.
Suzy she is a black eyed lady, there isn’t a thing about her shady.
The Mandeville bursting with pink blooms, heavy with buds it’s stems loom.
With petals as fine as paper machete, the poppy has come out to play.
The cornflower in the deepest blue, is always staring at you.
Then tiny but true is the one called baby blue.
Jill L. Ware
I go out of my way way several times a day placating to what everyone else’s needs are. Most times putting my needs on the back burner. I enjoy helping others until it is expected. My kindness taken for granted. Today I am in one of those moods, take care of you, no one else will. Feeling a bit stretched to thin.
Imperfect we were meant to be, so our flaws he could see.
Each of us made unique, so the Savior we would seek.
I have scars that will never heal, imperfect the make me feel.
No one notices nor cares, that someone’s mark my face bares.
These lesions I hide well, to look you cannot tell.
It’s no birth defect-I am not blemished, with me He is not finished.