Wow! It has been one WHOLE year since I started my blog. I must say, it has been a ton of fun!! Posting, getting comments and looking at others blogs. I hope that the Lord was glorified in everything that I have posted about.
I normally wouldn't post about a football game....but... I am SOO happy!!! :)
Ode to a SnowflakeWilliam Tozzi
You dance just like a ballerina
in the air, so cold.
At times, you're very shy and timid,
at other times, you're bold.
Dressed up in your crystal costume,
molded in symmetry.
Your design is like no other.
Unique, I must agree.
You play your part so gracefully
without making a sound,
whether you are pirouetting
or blanketing the ground.
You act so very innocent
when you're a solo flake.
Combined with others of your ilk,
all the rules, you break.
At springs first hint, you shed your mask
and end the masquerade.
You quickly run off and forsake
the wonder that you made.
Next winter, you'll appear again,
your charm will mesmerize.
And you'll make me forget that you're
a rain drop in disguise.
Do you not feel in your own soul that perfection is not in you? Does not every day teach you that? Every tear which trickles from your eye, weeps "imperfection;" every sigh which bursts from your heart, cries "imperfection;" every harsh word which proceeds from your lip, mutters "imperfection." You have too frequently had a view of your own heart to dream for a moment of any perfection in yourself. But amidst this sad consciousness of imperfection, here is comfort for you - you are "perfect in Christ Jesus." In God's sight, you are "complete in Him;" even now you are "accepted in the beloved." But there is a second perfection, yet to be realised, which is sure to all the seed. Is it not delightful to look forward to the time when every stain of sin shall be removed from the believer, and he shall be presented faultless before the throne, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing?
Just as the frying pan was nicely hissing Peter and Mr. Beaver came in with the fish which Mr. Beaver had already opened with his knife and cleaned out in the open air. You can think how good the new-caught fish smelled while they were frying and how the hungry children longed for them to be done and how very much hungrier still they had become before Mrs Beaver said, "Now we're nearly ready." Susan drained the potatoes and then put them all back in the empty pot to dry on the side of the range while Lucy was helping Mrs. Beaver to dish up the trout, so that in a very few minutes everyone was drawing up stools (it was all three-legged stools in the Beaver's house except for Mrs. Beaver's own special rocking chair beside the fire) and preparing to enjoy themselves. There was a jug of creamy milk for the children (Mr. Beaver stuck to beer) and a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table from which everyone took as much as he wanted to go with his potatoes and all the children thought- and I agree with them- that there's nothing to beat good freshwater fish if you eat it when it has been alive half an hour ago and has come out of the pan half a minute ago. And when they had finished the fish Mrs. Beaver brought unexpectedly out of the oven a great and glorious sticky marmalade roll, steaming hot, and at the same time moved the kettle on to the fire, so that when they had finished the marmalade roll the tea was made and ready to be poured out. And when each person had got his (or her) cup of tea, each person shoved back his (or her) stool so as to be able to lean against the wall and gave a long sigh of contentment.
