----- Original Message ----- 
From: Prose'n'Poems 
To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] 
Sent: Friday, November 28, 2008 2:20 AM
Subject: Winter's Show * God Lives Under The Bed


Prose'n'Poems
27-Nov-08 
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  Welcome to Prose'n'Poems. Start your day with the Thought Of The Day and 
enjoy the poems and prose from various writers. The content is not meant to 
offend anyone. If any of the material is Copyright, please inform me and I 
shall give proper credit or remove it from the site. Please read the copyright 
information at the bottom.              Hershy


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Thought Of The Day

Not until just before dawn do people sleep best;
not until people get old do they become wise.
Chinese Proverb 
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Terrorist Attack!
27th November 2008 - Yesterday was a horrible day for my city Mumbai when 
terrorists stormed several places killing more than 125 people and injuring 
hundreds more. They took many hostages and the siege is going on. We are all 
safe but badly shaken up. My friend Bill Pador has been in touch with me and he 
has kindly set up a space at Smugmug where he is maintaining all the details & 
latest updates and messages from friends. Go to: 
http://billpador.smugmug.com/gallery/6436527_FbGuK/1/425442358_hLEpu#425442358_hLEpu


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Photo for the day: Taking shelter
http://hershy.smugmug.com/gallery/4836391_ACj8A/1/221088718_VGsiJ/Large

Do click on the link and have a look. 

Your comments and star rating are most welcome! They also help getting it 
selected for top 1000 pictures!
In case you feel too lazy to add a comment, click on the green thumbs-up icon 
that appears when you pass the mouse on the upper right corner of picture. 


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Winter's Show
Oh, winter is putting on quite a exquisite show,
With lots and lots of snow.
Mountains of white are created,
As children are smiling and elated.
There is a problem, as you know,
Winter has not officially begun and some areas are blanketed by blizzards of 
unnecessary annoying snow.
Oh winter why must you put on your show so early before the season officially 
begins,
creating unnecessary stress within.

Cynthia Groopman
Copyright © Cynthia L. Groopman





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Share your poems, prose, thought of the day with thousands of people.
Send them to [EMAIL PROTECTED]  
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God Lives Under The Bed

I envy Kevin.

My brother, Kevin, thinks God lives under his bed.  At least that's what I 
heard him say one night.

He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, 'Are you 
there, God?' he said.  'Where are you?  Oh, I see.  Under the bed....'

I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room.  Kevin's unique perspectives 
are often a source of amusement.  But that night something else lingered long 
after the humor.  I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin 
lives in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during 
delivery.  Apart from his size (he is 6 feet 2 inches tall), there are few ways 
in which he is an adult.

He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of  a 7-year-old, and he 
always will.  He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, 
that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas, 
and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.  .

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different.  Is he ever 
dissatisfied with his monotonous life?

Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to 
walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni and cheese for 
dinner, and latter to bed.

The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly 
over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.

He does not seem dissatisfied.

He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.

He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, 
and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next 
day's laundry chores.

And Saturdays -- oh, the bliss of Saturdays!  That's the day our Dad takes 
Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate 
loudly on the destination of each passenger inside.  'That one's going to 
Chi-car-go!' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.

His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.

And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.

He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.

His life is simple.

He will never know the entanglements of wealth or power, and he does not care 
what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats.  His needs have 
always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.

His hands are diligent.  Kevin is never so happy as when he is working.  When 
he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.

He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job 
until it is finished.  But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.

He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others.  His heart is pure.

He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you 
are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.

Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry 
when he is hurt, angry or sorry.  He is always transparent, always sincere.  
And he trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a 
child.  Kevin seems to know God -- to really be friends with Him in a way that 
is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp.  God seems like his closest 
companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the 
security Kevin has in his simple faith. 

It is then that I am most willing to admit he has some divine knowledge that 
rises above my mortal questions.

It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap.  I am.  
My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances -- they all become 
disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn?  After all, he has 
spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking 
up the goodness and love of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at 
how close God really is to our heats, I'll realize that God heard the simple 
prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed. 

Kevin won't be surprised at all!

Author Unknown

from the 4th Kid

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