On Being Happy

I once wrote a song
that no one sang,
I once wrote a poem
that no one read,
I once painted a picture
that no one saw

and I wondered...
Why did I do these things?

Then one day
I sang my song
I read my poem
I saw my picture

and I knew why...
I was happy.

On Love

Sometimes we get so bogged down with the complexities of life, we fail to see, hear, smell, touch or feel the warm fuzzies surrounding us. We forget love has its very own sight, sound, smell, touch and feeling.

There is magic in the sight of a son's first solo flight on his bike. There's such joy in seeing his eyes light up when he sights a lightening bug turn on its beam. To watch him grow and become a man; to share his pipedreams, his failures, his real dreams and his success, is love folded over a million times.

To hear a little girl's laughter and know it is an echo of your own, is the sound warmth makes. Listening to her talking to her doll and knowing it is an echo of your own voice is the sound a smile makes. Striving to let her grow into her own being, and knowing she will probably always carry a whispered echo of you with her, is the sound unbounded love makes.

To look in the eyes and faces of your children or your grandchildren is God's love shining through - and what more of a warm fuzzy could you possibly want?