trees that wood

Trees That Wood
by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty." Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull." Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me." After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest. At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship. When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down. When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams. Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time. Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat. Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it. The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

For My Husband

There are heroes who walk among us
never looking for glory or praise.
They don't seek recognition
for their thoughtful, caring ways.
Living lives of deep commitment
providing for those they hold dear
Steadfast with a quiet strength
through times of laughter and tears.
You are a person like that to me
The most selfless man by far
So dear, I'd like to thank you
For being the HERO that you are.

~author unknown

OWEE

OWEE, A BOY WE ONCE KNEW
(Written For My Children: Breakfast Fun Reading)
Gina Widholm, 2001

Owee is the name of a boy we once knew
He groaned every morning and all the day through
As he held up a finger high for inspection
and worried he'd gotten a nasty infection.

An elbow, a shin, a knee or a thigh
his wrist, his ankle, his cheek or an eye
a knuckle, a hip, a toe, ear or nose
his forehead, his chest and his neck we suppose.

All had problems and deserved quick attention
and demanded bandaids to cure the infection
His mother ran ragged to cuddle and soothe
the hundreds of owees he'd happen to use
to keep her in shape and tip top condition
convinced he needed a personal physician.

Interjecting loudly to grab such attention
were AH, YEOW, and OUCH all used with inflection
but if, perhaps, his cries were to fail
he'd whimper, cry, scream, and fall down to wail
He loved the control some new injury would bring
Convinced in his mind, the boy thought he was King.

Then, one fateful day, he heard amongst whispers
his mother and father and one older sister
"Enough is enough and he'll just have to take
a medicinal potion for the ailments he makes
and attention and doting he'll no longer receive
until he is trustworthy and can be believed."

Just then a big THUD and a squeal of disaster
which normally brought feet running faster than faster
Slowly paced to the spot where the child now lay
"What? There's no blood?" and they all turned away

But the child ever strengthen by past good intentions
continued to wail for his parents affections
to which they brought forth a disturbing concoction
a medicinal potion prescribed...by the doctor?
Of garlic, vinegar, pepper or worse?
a teaspoon of this and no owees will hurt!

His favorite blue spoon was used to deliver
the blessing that caused his poor stomach to quiver
He matured 2 whole years from that lesson they said
and that day his name changed from Owee to Fred.

For By Husbud

O Robeo, Robeo! wherefore art thou Robeo?

    Dedy thy father add refuse thy dabe!

    Or, if thou wilt dot, be but sword by love,

    Add I'll doe logger be a Cabulet...


'Tis but thy dabe that is by eduby.

    Thou art thyself, though dot a Botague.

    What's Botague? it is dor hadd, dor foot,

    Dor arb, dor face, dor eddy other bart

    Beloggig to a bad. O, be sub other dabe!

    What's id a dabe? That which we call a rose

    By eddy other dabe would sbell as sweet.

    So Robeo would, were he dot Robeo call'd,

    Retaid that dear berfectiod which he owes

    Without that title. Robeo, doff thy dabe;

    Add for that dabe, which is doe bart of thee,

    Take all byself.

Whose Children Are These

Whose children are these that wander the street?
Have they no home where they can safely find sleep?

Who are their parents and have they no love
for the greatest gift ever from our Father above?

How can they abandon the fruit of their womb
and not care to condemn them to a cold earthen tomb?

Are we truly too busy to care for our own
or just too selfish and greedy to provide a good home?

Are we so lost in self, our own needs we must meet
that we drive out our children to live in the street?

Whose children are these who on society are thrown
in the care of some stranger to provide a safe home?

How can one not cherish one's own flesh and blood,
refuse to nurture and guide them and show them no love?

As a nation how can we expect to survive
when our children of love and concern we deprive?

Can we not see that for generations hereafter
what we now teach our children will lead to certain disaster?

Can we not see to the future when we shall grow old
that our fate in their hands these children will hold?

Do we expect them to grow into kind, loving folk
when kindness and love to them is a joke?

I think we shall see that because of our greed
for our lives to continue they will not feel the need!

They shall deem it expedient for the good of the masses
to not waste precious resources on the now useless classes.

The old and infirm that have nothing to offer
shall be euphonized with no thought or bother.

Shall we then plead for mercy and ask ourselves why
there's no love in their hearts and they want us to die?

Think back to the past when that child had a need
and we pushed him aside to fulfill our own greed!

Remember the times when love the child needed
but we were too busy, his cries went unheeded?

Remember the problems we should have helped them through
but turning our back gave them not a clue!

When we teach our children that God is not real
what, other than hatred, do we expect them to feel?

God teaches of mercy, forgiveness and grace,
and love in our heart He will abundantly place.

He builds a strong family through tolerance and care
and helps to defeat any enemies there.

I pray that our nation, before it's too late
will turn from the teaching of murder and hate.

For a land without God is already defeated
and soon will succumb to His wrath unabated!

Whose children are these who are lost and alone,
forced to exist in some stranger's home?

America's children, a land under God,
meaningless words now, just a facaad.

We all are God's children, in His image created
and He desires that in love, we should all be united!

~George Wootton

For My Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more that whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

~Anne Bradstreet

For My Husband

You're my man, my mighty king,
And I'm the jewel in your crown,
You're the sun so hot and bright,
I'm your light-rays shining down,

You're the sky so vast and blue,
And I'm the white clouds in your chest,
I'm a river clean and pure,
Who in your ocean finds her rest,

You're the mountain huge and high,
I'm the valley green and wide,
You're the body firm and strong,
And I'm a rib bone on your side,

You're an eagle flying high,
I'm your feathers light and brown,
You're my man, my king of kings,
And I'm the jewel in your crown.

- Nima Akbari -