This is not a story that I wrote, but I believe it message needs spread as far as it can go. This story is for every soldier who has ever served our country be them man or woman. God bless you all.
PLEASE READ Her hair was up in a pony tail, Her favorite dress tied with a bow. Today was Daddy's Day at school, And she couldn't wait to go. But her mommy tried to tell her, That she probably should stay home. Why the kids might not understand, If she went to school alone. But she was not afraid; She knew just what to say. What to tell her classmates Of why he wasn't there today. But still her mother worried, For her to face this day alone. And that was why once again, She tried to keep her daughter home. But the little girl went to school Eager to tell them all. About a dad she never sees A dad who never calls. There were daddies along the wall in back, For everyone to meet. Children squirming impatiently, Anxious in their seats One by one the teacher called A student from the class. To introduce their daddy, As seconds slowly passed. At last the teacher called her name, Every child turned to stare. Each of them was searching, A man who wasn't there. 'Where's her daddy at?' She heard a boy call out. 'She probably doesn't have one,' Another student dared to shout. And from somewhere near the back, She heard a daddy say, 'Looks like another deadbeat dad, Too busy to waste his day.' The words did not offend her, As she smiled up at her Mom. And looked back at her teacher, Who told her to go on. And with hands behind her back, Slowly she began to speak. And out from the mouth of a child, Came words incredibly unique. 'My Daddy couldn't be here, Because he lives so far away. But I know he wishes he could be, Since this is such a special day. And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know. All about my daddy, And how much he loves me so. He loved to tell me stories He taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses, And taught me to fly a kite. We used to share fudge sundaes, And ice cream in a cone. And though you cannot see him. I'm not standing here alone. 'Cause my daddy's al ways with me, Even though we are apart I know because he told me, He'll forever be in my heart' With that, her little hand reached up, And lay across her chest. Feeling her own heartbeat, Beneath her favorite dress. And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads, Her mother stood in tears. Proudly watching her daughter, Who was wise beyond her years. For she stood up for the love Of a man not in her life. Doing what was best for her, Doing what was right. And when she dropped her hand back down, Staring straight into the crowd. She finished with a voice so soft, But its message clear and loud. 'I love my daddy very much, he's my shining star. And if he could, he'd be here, But heaven's just too far. You see he was a soldier And died just this past year When a roadside bomb hit his convoy And taught everyone to fear. But sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never went away.' And then she closed her eyes, And saw him there that day. And to her mothers amazement, She witnessed with surprise. A room full of daddies and children, All starting to close their eyes. Who knows what they saw before them, Who knows what they felt inside. Perhaps for merely a second, They saw him at her side. 'I know you're with me Daddy,' To the silence she called out. And what happened next made believers, Of those once filled with doubt. Not one in that room could explain it, For each of their eyes had been closed. But there on the desk beside her, Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose. And a child was blessed, if only for a moment, By the love of her shining star. And given the gift of believing, That heaven is never too far. God Bless
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Without You
The night is long without you The day is an endless mass of tears
I can’t believe you are no more
Or I have to live the rest of my life alone
People say I’ll find someone new
Time will heal all the pain I’m going thorough
How I wish I could believe what they say
Maybe I would if I could get over you someday
To me right now I can’t see the end
Of this horrible hurt that tears at my heart
Of a loved one gone to quickly in life
How can I go on when my heart is now only part?
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Brothers, Sisters, and Favorites
Brothers, Sisters, and Favorites
By Janeal Mulaney
I come from a home where my parents wanted a large family. However it was not meant to be, my mother had several miscarriages, and a premature baby who didn't live for long after her birth. My father had to go buy a baby doll at the store so they would have clothes small enough just to bury my oldest sister in.
They finally got lucky the next child they had was full term and she is my other sister, and then one more time they got lucky and had me, almost three years later. Which is a story within its self. (Maybe at another time I will write about it.)
All through my childhood I heard how I was the favorite by my sister, and to tell the truth I always felt she was the favorite. We were as different as night and day, my sister was very feminine, she liked to cook, sew, and read. She was also great in school and a wonderful artist. She looked like mom and dad; never caused hardly any problems so she hardly got into any trouble.
I was all tomboy and didn't look like either of my parents, I never really applied myself in school, after all it took up eight hours of my day, when I could have been at home with the animals, climbing trees, working on my bikes, and getting my jeans all grease soaked. As I got older, I did the chores that were set for us as quickly as possible, so I could do what I wanted to do, I didn't want to spend any time at all in the house until the sun was down, or there was a blizzard outside. I bucked every rule my parents ever set, if I asked why I couldn't do something, and the only reason I was given was because they said so, then I did it anyway. That answer just wasn't a good enough reason for me not to do what I wanted.
I grew up grounded, spanked; and with more time outs then there were days in a year. I was literally my parents’ worse nightmare, and that was before I became a teen. Heck my heroes were Bonny and Clyde, which my friends and I played at being daily, in an old van my parents owned. (I still say that was the reason they sold it.) Ha, Ha!
As I grew up I helped my father in the shop, and on his jobs where he needed someone small to crawl in and out of tight places.
The one class I did start liking in school was art, but I was always compared to my sister, who according to my mother was so much better, so I soon started doing poorly in it too. What the heck I wasn't any good at it, so why bother wasting my time on it.
Still I was told I was the favorite, and I still couldn't figure out how my sister felt that way when I was never good enough, always in trouble, getting yelled at and compared to her. To make things even worse even the teachers in our small town would ask how I could be related to such a wonder student when my schoolwork sucked. That was when I truly became rebellious and mouthy to everyone.
I looked my teacher straight in the eyes, and asked. if she was truly an idiot, or if she had to work at it? Then I told her, you know my parents, both of them have black hear, dark eyes, and are over five feet seven, do I really look related to them. I'm adopted you twit.
I was just starting my first year at high school. My homeroom was called the principle office for the next three years. If I wasn't ditching classes, I was roaming the hallways this was how I spent my eight hours away from home. Some how I managed to graduate from school, personally I think the teachers got together and said, if we don't give that child higher then an F, we may never get rid of her so I made the D honor roll; what the heck, D is still the forth letter in the alphabet so I came in forth, right. Not bad if there is three hundred and some students, right!
That was along time ago now. Since then I have raised three of my own children, and now have four grandchildren. I've heard from each one of them how another one was my favorite, at one time or the other. My oldest and my youngest thought my middle child was the favorite, at one time, my oldest and the middle child thought I favored my youngest, at times. My middle and youngest thought my oldest was my favorite.
I can honestly say all three of them are my favorite.
How can I have three favorites?
Very easily, my oldest is a girl and she grew up a carbon copy of me. I know her inside and out. She is full of spirit and love; she is loyal to her family and friends, even though she has been let down by them at one time or the other. Sometimes she forgets while doing for some she lets others down, but her heart is always in the right spot. Sooner or later she will come back and be there for those that were neglected at an earlier time. So yes she is very much my favorite because I see myself in her every single day. I know she will have bad times, but she too will make it out on top because of her spirit, and the love she has for her own children and life.
My middle child is also my first son, who is about as far from my personality as anyone can be, he thinks everything through before he does anything, and his patience is so awesome. He has been my rock, my mentor, and my teacher, throughout my adult life. He is like the big brother I always wanted, but never had. He reminds me of the man I admire most which is my father, and he has the same easygoing attitude. He too has a heart that is filled with love and although he does not show it as often as the other two of my children do to just anyone, you can bet he shows it to his wife, the lovely woman who saw the stunning man he really is. He is excellent in everything he does. He has great morals and standards as well as takes great pride in himself and everything he accomplices. He is most definitely my favorite. He is who I always wanted to be.
My youngest is also my baby boy; he is a mixture of his grandfather, himself, and me. He is and will be one of the best men I know he has a heart of pure gold, but like me he lets his emotions rule and thinks later. He too reminds me of my father in different ways then my oldest son, he loves and cares deeply for his family and friends, he's not afraid to show his feelings for the ones he loves. I take pride in seeing him with his wife and baby girl every day. I know for them he will become the man he has always wanted to be. I see the same look in his own eyes that I still see in my own father's every time he looks at me. He's had hard times and good, but the thing that I admire most is no matter what happens he takes the blame for his own actions, wether they were right or they were wrong, he takes the fall then picks himself back up, and dust himself off. So yes he is very much my favorite.
So that is why I ask, are you the favorite? The answer to that is yes, in some way or for some reason you are your parents’ favorite, but then again you too will have to share that title with all your other siblings. For in some way they are just as special as you, and your parents love them unconditionally also.
By Janeal Mulaney
I come from a home where my parents wanted a large family. However it was not meant to be, my mother had several miscarriages, and a premature baby who didn't live for long after her birth. My father had to go buy a baby doll at the store so they would have clothes small enough just to bury my oldest sister in.
They finally got lucky the next child they had was full term and she is my other sister, and then one more time they got lucky and had me, almost three years later. Which is a story within its self. (Maybe at another time I will write about it.)
All through my childhood I heard how I was the favorite by my sister, and to tell the truth I always felt she was the favorite. We were as different as night and day, my sister was very feminine, she liked to cook, sew, and read. She was also great in school and a wonderful artist. She looked like mom and dad; never caused hardly any problems so she hardly got into any trouble.
I was all tomboy and didn't look like either of my parents, I never really applied myself in school, after all it took up eight hours of my day, when I could have been at home with the animals, climbing trees, working on my bikes, and getting my jeans all grease soaked. As I got older, I did the chores that were set for us as quickly as possible, so I could do what I wanted to do, I didn't want to spend any time at all in the house until the sun was down, or there was a blizzard outside. I bucked every rule my parents ever set, if I asked why I couldn't do something, and the only reason I was given was because they said so, then I did it anyway. That answer just wasn't a good enough reason for me not to do what I wanted.
I grew up grounded, spanked; and with more time outs then there were days in a year. I was literally my parents’ worse nightmare, and that was before I became a teen. Heck my heroes were Bonny and Clyde, which my friends and I played at being daily, in an old van my parents owned. (I still say that was the reason they sold it.) Ha, Ha!
As I grew up I helped my father in the shop, and on his jobs where he needed someone small to crawl in and out of tight places.
The one class I did start liking in school was art, but I was always compared to my sister, who according to my mother was so much better, so I soon started doing poorly in it too. What the heck I wasn't any good at it, so why bother wasting my time on it.
Still I was told I was the favorite, and I still couldn't figure out how my sister felt that way when I was never good enough, always in trouble, getting yelled at and compared to her. To make things even worse even the teachers in our small town would ask how I could be related to such a wonder student when my schoolwork sucked. That was when I truly became rebellious and mouthy to everyone.
I looked my teacher straight in the eyes, and asked. if she was truly an idiot, or if she had to work at it? Then I told her, you know my parents, both of them have black hear, dark eyes, and are over five feet seven, do I really look related to them. I'm adopted you twit.
I was just starting my first year at high school. My homeroom was called the principle office for the next three years. If I wasn't ditching classes, I was roaming the hallways this was how I spent my eight hours away from home. Some how I managed to graduate from school, personally I think the teachers got together and said, if we don't give that child higher then an F, we may never get rid of her so I made the D honor roll; what the heck, D is still the forth letter in the alphabet so I came in forth, right. Not bad if there is three hundred and some students, right!
That was along time ago now. Since then I have raised three of my own children, and now have four grandchildren. I've heard from each one of them how another one was my favorite, at one time or the other. My oldest and my youngest thought my middle child was the favorite, at one time, my oldest and the middle child thought I favored my youngest, at times. My middle and youngest thought my oldest was my favorite.
I can honestly say all three of them are my favorite.
How can I have three favorites?
Very easily, my oldest is a girl and she grew up a carbon copy of me. I know her inside and out. She is full of spirit and love; she is loyal to her family and friends, even though she has been let down by them at one time or the other. Sometimes she forgets while doing for some she lets others down, but her heart is always in the right spot. Sooner or later she will come back and be there for those that were neglected at an earlier time. So yes she is very much my favorite because I see myself in her every single day. I know she will have bad times, but she too will make it out on top because of her spirit, and the love she has for her own children and life.
My middle child is also my first son, who is about as far from my personality as anyone can be, he thinks everything through before he does anything, and his patience is so awesome. He has been my rock, my mentor, and my teacher, throughout my adult life. He is like the big brother I always wanted, but never had. He reminds me of the man I admire most which is my father, and he has the same easygoing attitude. He too has a heart that is filled with love and although he does not show it as often as the other two of my children do to just anyone, you can bet he shows it to his wife, the lovely woman who saw the stunning man he really is. He is excellent in everything he does. He has great morals and standards as well as takes great pride in himself and everything he accomplices. He is most definitely my favorite. He is who I always wanted to be.
My youngest is also my baby boy; he is a mixture of his grandfather, himself, and me. He is and will be one of the best men I know he has a heart of pure gold, but like me he lets his emotions rule and thinks later. He too reminds me of my father in different ways then my oldest son, he loves and cares deeply for his family and friends, he's not afraid to show his feelings for the ones he loves. I take pride in seeing him with his wife and baby girl every day. I know for them he will become the man he has always wanted to be. I see the same look in his own eyes that I still see in my own father's every time he looks at me. He's had hard times and good, but the thing that I admire most is no matter what happens he takes the blame for his own actions, wether they were right or they were wrong, he takes the fall then picks himself back up, and dust himself off. So yes he is very much my favorite.
So that is why I ask, are you the favorite? The answer to that is yes, in some way or for some reason you are your parents’ favorite, but then again you too will have to share that title with all your other siblings. For in some way they are just as special as you, and your parents love them unconditionally also.
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