Editor's Note: These three unrelated pieces can teach us a lot... and help us teach our children. Yes, this is the education section and these pieces have nothing to do with school, but remember this: all parents are home schoolers!

The Recipe
Submitted by Julia Townsend

A beggar came to me for bread today.
I gave him the bread and he went on his way.
He went home when he got his fill,
Happy that I never give him a bill.
But I watched him leave with a sad look on my face,
for tomorrow he'll be back pleading for grace.

He loves the bread that I give him each day.
I told him, "I'll give you the recipe, if I may";
He refused, for he did not want the labor,
But he thanked me for being such a good neighbor.
He just wants the bread when he is in need.
But doesn't want to return this kind little deed.

I wish he could see that with the recipe,
He'd be full every day and that is the key,
To feeding the hungry who cross his own path
I cannot reach or feed them all.
That is an order that is way too tall.
Because not enough want the recipe,
I am left drained and unhappy.
For so many are dying for lack of bread.
We could feed them if we'd just get out of bed.

For Those who want the recipe:

A measure of time in prayer mixed with
A portion of rest in His presence.
A fraction of time just to listen stirred with
A session of time just to tell Him.
Quantity time in the Bible blended with
Minutes to sit and dwell on it.
An appointment each day to seek His face mixed with
A moment in time to bask in His grace!

It takes but a second to lay those burdens down but
a life long to KNOW Him and spread Him around.
May we each we filled by Him, so we can give to a hungry world!
Amen!!

The Beauty Remains
from A 3rd Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1996 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

Although Henri Matisse was nearly 28 years younger than Auguste Renoir, the two great artists were dear friends and frequent companions. When Renoir was confined to his home during the last decade of his life, Matisse visited him daily. Renoir, almost paralyzed by arthritis, continued to paint in spite of his infirmities.

One day as Matisse watched the elder painter working in his studio, fighting torturous pain with each brush stroke, he blurted out: "Auguste, why do you continue to paint when you are in such agony?"

Renoir answered simply: "The beauty remains; the pain passes." And so, almost to his dying day, Renoir put paint to canvas. One of his most famous paintings, The Bathers, was completed just two years before his passing, 14 years after he was stricken by this disabling disease.

Tommy's Essay
By Jane Lindstorm

Soon Tommy's parents, who had recently separated, would arrive for a conference on his failing schoolwork and disruptive behavior. Neither parent knew that I had summoned the other.

Tommy, an only child, had always been happy, cooperative, and an excellent student. How could I convince his father and mother that his recent failing grades represented a brokenhearted child's reaction to his adored parents' separation and pending divorce?

Tommy's mother entered and took one of the chairs I had placed near my desk. Then the father arrived. They pointedly ignored each other.

As I gave a detailed account of Tommy's behavior and schoolwork, I prayed for the right words to bring these two together to help them see what they were doing to their son. But somehow the words wouldn't come. Perhaps if they saw one of his smudged, carelessly done papers.

I found a crumpled, tear-stained sheet stuffed in the back of his desk. Writing covered both sides, a single sentence scribbled over and over. Silently I smoothed it out and gave it to Tommy's mother. She read it and then without a word handed it to her husband. He frowned. Then his face softened. He studied the scrawled words for what seemed an eternity.

At last he folded the paper carefully and reached for his wife's outstretched hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. My own eyes were brimming, but neither seemed to notice.

In his own way God had given me the words to reunite that family. He had guided me to the sheet of yellow copy paper covered with the anguished outpouring of a small boy's troubled heart.

"Dear Mother . . . Dear Daddy . . . I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you."

We need articles, poetry and other original submissions
of interest to women, especially Christian women.

e-mail

Graphics, Design & Hosting by Web4Christ Ministries

Home | Webzine | Archives | Resources
Free Graphics | Our Mission | Membership
  Submission Guidelines | E-Mail Fellowship

Author: Iona Hoeppner
Copyright © 1999 ionanet. All rights reserved.
Revised: April 20, 2006.