I was but a youth and thoughtless,
As all youths are apt to be;
Though I had a Christian Mother
Who had taught me carefully.

There came a time when pleasure
Of the world came to allure,
And I no more sought the guidance
Of her love so good and pure.

Her tender admonitions fell
But lightly on my ear,
And for the gentle warnings
I felt an inward sneer.

But Mother would not yield her boy
To Satan’s sinful sway,
And though I spurned her counsel
She knew a better way.

She made my room an altar,
A place of secret prayer,
And there she took her burden
And left it in His care.

And morning, noon and evening
By that humble bedside low,
She sought the aid of Him who
Understands a Mother’s woe.

And I went my way unheeding,
Careless of the life I led,
Until one day I noticed
Prints of elbows on my bed.

Then I saw that she had been there
Praying for her wayward boy,
Who for love of worldly pleasure
Would her peace of mind destroy.

Long the conflict raged within me,
Sin against my Mother’s prayers,
Sin must yield – for Mother never
While she daily met Him there.

And her constant love and patience
Were like coals upon my head,
Together with the imprints
Of her elbows on my bed.

And so at last the fight was won,
And I to Christ was led,
And Mother’s prayers were answered
By her elbows on my bed.

You are strong . . . .
when you take your grief and teach it to smile.

You are brave . . . .
when you overcome your fear and help others to do the same.

You are happy . . . .
when you see a flower and give it your blessing.

You are loving . . . .
when your own pain does not blind you to the pain of others.

You are wise . . . .
when you know the limits of your wisdom.

You are true . . . .
when you admit there are times you fool yourself.

You are alive . . . .
when tomorrow’s hope means more to you than yesterday’s mistake.

You are growing . . . .
when you know what you are but not what you will become.

You are free . . . .
when you are in control of yourself and do not wish to control others.

You are honorable . . . .
when you find your honor is to honor others.

You are generous . . . .
when you can take as sweetly as you can give.

You are humble . . . .
when you do not know how humble you are.

You are thoughtful . . . .
when you see me just as I am and treat me just as you are.

You are merciful . . . .
when you forgive in others the faults you condemn in yourself.

You are beautiful . . . .
when you don’t need a mirror to tell you.

You are rich . . . .
when you never need more than what you have.

You are you . . . .
when you are at peace with who you are not.

In the wooden cabin ,where i live,
the winter has come to stay
with me,in my heart
Cold and dark night
Fireplace gives me no warmth,
and the light of dawn is faraway.

Dead and numb,my body feels
With the deep snow within
and it aches my heart
With my arms around me
I refuse to give myself

From the window,i could see a faint light
i got up and went outside,
That moment i knew something
would change my life forever

Then the light of dawn came
and melted the snow in me
The sun smiled on me and i smiled
for i knew the light came from above.

- – - written by Richard Mathew