THE SCULPTOR'S ATTITUDE

I woke up early today, excited over all I get to do before the clock strikes midnight. I have responsibilities to fulfill today. I am important. My job is to choose what kind of day I am going to have.

Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankful that the grass is getting watered for free.

Today I can feel sad that I don't have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.

Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.

Today I can lament over all that my parents didn't give me when I was growing up or ...I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.

Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.

Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon a quest to discover new relationships.

Today I can whine because I have to go to work or I can shout for joy because I have a job to do.

Today I can complain because I have to go to school or eagerly open my mind and fill it with rich new tidbits of knowledge.

Today I can murmur dejectedly because I have to do housework or I can feel honored because I've been provided shelter for my mind, body and soul.

Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped.

And here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping. What today will be like is up to me. I get to choose what kind of day I will have!

Have a GREAT DAY ...unless you have other plans.
~ Author Unknown

THE ROSE

I've been buried in barren soil,
beneath rock and refuse,
my roots so badly tangled
I fear that I'd be strangled
if excavated expertly
by even the most gifted gardner
and transplanted in dark, delicious earth.I've been choked so often by frost and drought
that I would find it very peculiar
to be tucked into bed on raw April nights
and feel the fingers of sprinklers
tickle the ground above me
on an arid August afternoon.And I'm not quite sure what I'd do
if I ever poked my head above the ground
and saw the light of day.
I'm afraid I've become
so accustomed to darkness
that brightness might startle me
back to the depths of despair.
But the rose has never failed
to open its arms to the sun
even after the coldest of winters.by David C. Schrader

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