My online filing cabinet to share!

It is time to clean out and dispose of my many files but I am such a "keeper" that I can't just throw my years of stories, quotes, ideas, and memories away SO--- I am going to digitize them and put them in a blog to save in cyberspace as well. If anyone ever looks at this, I hope you find something that inspires creativity and fun energy!

Wednesday, December 28, 2011


I thought this was beautiful.
The young mother set her foot on the path of life.  “Is this the long way?” she asked.  And the guide said: “Yes, and the way is hard.  And you will be old before you reach the end of it.  But the end will be better than the beginning.  “But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe anything could be better than these years.  So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”
Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said, “Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near,” and it guided them beyond the darkness.  And that night the Mother said, “This ist he best day of all for I have shown my children God.”
And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent.  But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage.  And when they way was rough, they lifted her, for she was a slight as a feather; and at last they came to a hill, and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide.
And mother said; “I have reached the end of my journey.  And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them.”
And the children said, “You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.”
And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her.  And they said:  “We cannot see her, but she is with us still.  A mother like ours is more than a memory.  She is a living presence.”

Your mother is always with you.  She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street;
She’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks;
She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well.
Your mother lives inside your laughter.
And she’s crystallized in every tear drop.
She’s the place you come from, your first home; and she’s the map you follow with every step you take.
She’s your first love and your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you..
Not time, not space… not even death:

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