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ROSES FOR ROSE
Red roses were her favorites,
Her name was also Rose,
And every year her husband sent them,
Tied with pretty bows.
The year he died,
The roses were delivered to her door;
The card said, "Be my Valentine,"
Like all the years before.
Each year he sent her roses,
And the note would always say,
"I love you even more this year,
Than last year on this day."
"My love for you will always grow,
With every passing year;"
She knew this was the last time
That the roses would appear.
She thought he ordered roses
In advance before this day;
Her loving husband did not know,
That he would soon pass away.
He always liked to do things early,
Way before the time;
Then, if he got too busy,
Everything would work out fine.
She trimmed the stems and
Placed them in a very special vase;
Then sat the vase beside the portrait
Of his smiling face.
She would sit for hours,
In her husband's favorite chair;
While staring at his picture,
And the roses sitting there.
A year went by and it was hard
To live without her mate;
With loneliness and solitude,
That had become her fate.
Then on the very same hour,
As the Valentines before,
The doorbell rang and there were roses,
Sitting by her door.
She brought the roses in,
And just looked at them in shock;
Then went to get the telephone,
To call the florist shop.
The owner answered, and
She asked him if he would explain;
Why would someone do this to her,
And causing her such pain?
"I know your husband passed away
More than a year ago,"
The owner said, "I knew you'd call,
And you would want to know."
"The flowers you received today,
Were paid for in advance."
"Your husband always planned ahead,
He left nothing to chance."
"There is a standing order,
That I have on file down here;
And he has paid ... well in advance,
You'll get them every year.
There also is another thing,
That I think you should know;
He wrote a special little card,
He did this years ago."
"Then, should ever I find out
That he's no longer here;
That's the card that should be sent to you
On the following year."
She thanked him and hung up the phone,
Her tears now flowing hard;
Her fingers were shaking,
As she slowly reached to get the card.
Inside the card, she saw that
He had written her a note;
Then, as she stared in total silence,
This is what he wrote ...
"Hello my love, I know it's been
A year since I've been gone;
I hope it hasn't been too hard
For you to overcome."
"I know it must be lonely,
And the pain is still very real;
For if it was the other way,
I know how I would feel."
"The love we shared made
Everything so beautiful in life;
I loved you more than words can say,
You were the perfect wife."
"You were my friend and lover,
You fulfilled my every need;
I know it's only been one year,
But please try not to grieve.
I want you to be happy,
Even when you shed your tears;
That is why the roses will be sent
To you for many more years."
"When you get these roses,
Think of all the happiness,
That we had together,
And how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you
And I know I always will;
But, my love, you must go on,
You have to do some living still."
"Please try to find happiness,
While living out your days;
I know it is not easy,
But I hope you find some ways."
"The roses will come every year,
And they will only stop ...
When your door's not answered,
When the florist stops to knock."
"He will come five times that day,
In case you have gone out;
But after his last visit,
He will know without a doubt,
To take the roses to the place,
Where I've instructed him,
And place the roses where we are,
Together once again."
~by PoppyK1@aol.com ~
The Sandpiper
by Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.
I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world
begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something
and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
"Hello," she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
"I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.
"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by.
"That's a joy," the child said.
"It's a what?"
"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself,
hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed
completely out of balance.
"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.
"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."
"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."
"Hi, Wendy."
She giggled. "You're funny," she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.
"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings,
and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out
of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was
chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
"I don't know. You say."
"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."
"Then let's just walk."
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.
"Where do you live?" I asked.
"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
"Where do you go to school?"
"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was
on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no
mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt
like demanding she keep her child at home.
"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd
rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
"Why?" she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought,
My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."
"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"
"Did it hurt?" she inquired.
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.
"When she died?"
"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding,
wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up
to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking
young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today
and wondered where she was."
"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance,
please, accept my apologies."
"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing
that I meant what I had just said.
"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia.
Maybe she didn't tell you."
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.
She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left
something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young
woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold
childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach,
a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love
opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,
I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little
picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year
of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.
A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand
-- who taught me the gift of love.
NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20
years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder
to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.
The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.
Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas
can make us lose focus about what is truly important
or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.
This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means,
take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.
This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many
and now I share it with you...
May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences!
Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside
anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
NATURAL HIGHS  Natural Highs
1. Falling in Love 2. Laughing so hard your face hurts. 3. A hot shower. 4. No lines at the supermarket. 5. A special glance. 6. Getting mail. 7. Taking a drive on a pretty road. 8. Hearing your favorite song on the radio. 9. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside. 10. Hot towels fresh out of the dryer. 11. Chocolate milkshake (vanilla or strawberry). 12. A bubble bath. 13. Giggling. 14. A good conversation. 15. The beach 16. Finding a 20 dollar bill in your coat from last winter. 17. Laughing at yourself. 18. Looking into their eyes and knowing they Love you 19. Midnight phone calls that last for hours. 20. Running through sprinklers. 21. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all. 22. Having someone tell you that you're beautiful. 23. Laughing at an inside joke. 24. Friends. 25. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you. 26. Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep. 27. Your first kiss (either the very first or with a new partner). 28. Making new friends or spending time with old ones. 29. Playing with a new puppy. 30. Having someone play with your hair. 31. Sweet dreams. 32. Hot chocolate. 33. Road trips with friends. 34. Swinging on swings. 35. Making eye contact with a cute stranger. 36. Making chocolate chip cookies. 37. Having your friends send you homemade cookies. 38 Holding hands with someone you care about. 39. Running into an old friend and realizing that some things (good or bad) never change. 40. Watching the _expression on someone's face as they open a much desired present from you. 41. Watching the sunrise. 42. Getting out of bed every morning and being grateful for another beautiful day. 43. Knowing that somebody misses you. 44. Getting a hug from someone you care about deeply. 45.Knowing you've done the right thing, no matter what other people think. Lord keep Your arm around my shoulder and Your will around   my heart.
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