If I knew it would be the last time
That I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly,
And pray the Lord your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time
That I'd see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss,
And call you back for just one more.

If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would tape each word and action,
And play them back throughout my days.

If I knew it would be the last time,
I would spare an extra minute or two,
To stop and say "I love you,"
Instead of assuming you know I do.

So just in case tomorrow never comes,
And today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you,
And I hope we never will forget,
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
Young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
You get to hold your loved one tight.

So if you're waiting for tomorrow,
Why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
You'll surely regret the day,
That you didn't take that extra time
For a smile, a hug, or a kiss,
And you were too busy to grant someone,
What turned out to be their one last wish.

So hold your loved ones close today,
And whisper in their ear,
That you love them very much and
You'll always hold them dear.

Take time to say "I'm sorry,"
"Please forgive me," "Thank you," or "It's okay",
And if tomorrow never comes,
You'll have no regrets about today.

~ Norma Cornett Marek ~

There was a little boy with a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he had to hammer a nail in the back fence.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Then it gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.

Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.

The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same.

When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one."

Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have
Or how accepted you are.
Not if you have plans for this week-end or if you're alone.

It isn't about who you have kissed,
It isn't about who your family is or how much money they have,
Or what kind of car you drive,
Or where you are sent to school.

It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are,
Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on,
Or what kind of music you listen to.

It's not about if your hair is blond, red, black or brown,
Or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Nor about what grades you get, how smart everybody else thinks you are
Or how smart standardized tests say you are.

Life just isn't.

Life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposely.
It's about keeping or betraying trust,
It's about friendship used as a sanctity or as a weapon.

It's about what you say and what you mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
It's about starting rumours and contributing to petty gossip.
It's about what judgements you pass and why,
And who your judgements are spread to.

It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention.
It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance and revenge.
It's about carrying inner hate and love,
letting it grow and spreading it.

But most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison other people's hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone.

Only you choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices are what life is all about.

She calls out to the man on the street
’sir, can you help me?
It’s cold and I’ve nowhere to sleep,
Is there somewhere you can tell me? ’

He walks on, doesn’t look back
He pretends he can’t hear her
Starts to whistle as he crosses the street
Seems embarrassed to be there

Oh think twice, it’s another day for
You and me in paradise
Oh think twice, it’s just another day for you,
You and me in paradise

She calls out to the man on the street
He can see she’s been crying
She’s got blisters on the soles of her feet
Can’t walk but she’s trying

Oh think twice...

Oh lord, is there nothing more anybody can do
Oh lord, there must be something you can say

You can tell from the lines on her face
You can see that she’s been there
Probably been moved on from every place
’cos she didn’t fit in there

Oh think twice...

Do you know what is the least safe place in the world? Is it the streets of New York? Is it Iraq? It is incredibly sad, but the LEAST safe place is... a mother's womb. Statistically speaking, more children die each day murdered by their own mothers than people die anywhere in the world, from any other cause. There are wars going on, terrible crimes, robberies... but nowhere else people die so fast...



" Mommy...

why are you crying? Are you alright, Mommy? Are you in pain? I know, I'm older now and I've got heavier. but you should see me: I have a face now, and a little head, and a front... and a little nose... and ears, although I can't hear your voice very well. But I can hear the beating of your heart and I can feel everything you feel, because I am part of you. And I've got a few other things I'm not sure of their use... Oh, Mommy, you should see how pretty I am! Wait... not too long... only a few months. Then you can hold me in your arms, and cradle me to your breast, and caress my soft, tiny body...

But why is your heart beating so fast? Are you crying, Mom? Are you afraid I am going to be a naughty girl? No, Mommy! I won't! I want to see all the beautiful things that life has to offer, I want you to teach me how to laugh, and how to speak, and how to say your name... You'll see, you will be so proud of me!

Mommy, are we going somewhere? I think we are... But why are you crying, Mom? Why is your heart beating so fast? Why don't you just stay home instead, and rest? It is so nice when your heart is calm... and it's so well and warm in here...

Where are you now Mommy? Are you going by car? Yes, you are... Oh, Mommy, I don't think it is good where you're going... I can feel that. I don't like it, Mommy, and I think you don't like it either!

Mommy, you know, when I grow up I want you to teach me how to sing. It is so beautiful! Sometimes I can hear sounds, melodies that make me happy, or sad, or sleepy...

Are you there already? I think you are, I can hear you climbing up some stairs... your heart is beating so fast again, Mommy. Why is it, Mom? Mommy!? Mommy, please don't do yourself any harm... You are talking to someone. Their voices are so cold!

Mommy, what are you doing now? Are you lying down? Why is that, Mommy? And your heart is beating so fast... Is anything wrong? Mommy? Oh, Mommy, what is happening? What are these people doing? What is this thing trying to grab me? It is trying to tear me away from you, it is ripping me to pieces, and it hurts!! Oh, Mommy, it hurts so bad!!! Mom!! Mommy!!!... I LOVE YOU... "