Jesus Walked With Us

When Jesus walked the earth

Our dear Lord Make it so

A teacher here is needed

So much we need to know

 

We sing His songs of praise

And deep within the words

Is everything we need to know

Just like the morning birds

 

We can walk the world with Him

Resting gently in this place

All it takes is a little Faith

To reach that state of grace

 

To reach that state of grace

All it takes is a little Faith

Resting gently in this place

We can walk the world with Him

 

Just like the morning birds

Is everything we need to know

And deep within the words

We sing His songs of praise

 

So much we need to know

A teacher here is needed

Our dear Lord made it so

When Jesus walked the earth

The Value of Failure

We’ve all done it. Some more than others of course. But it is part of the learning curve. Some successes were only possible because of the failure that preceded it. So why are we so afraid of it?

Nowadays it seems we don’t want to teach our children the value of failure. There’s a lovely story I refer to quite often about an older man taking his grandchild to a skating rink for the first time.  The man holds the young boy’s hands to get him on the ice and then throws his own arms into the air and says “fall down”. Of course, little boy does. The grandfather repeats this a few more times until the boy asks his grandfather ‘why?”. His reply surprised me when I first heard it: “It is to teach you not to be afraid to fall. You’ve already done it.”  Brilliant!

We fear what we do not know.  Our children need to understand that failure is something we all need to experience. If they don’t learn to deal with it when they are young, it can be devastating as an adult. Our lives are full of adversity. Along with failure and disappointment and confusion and…. It is also full of wonder and beauty and joy. There is a balance between the two that can be difficult to comprehend if you’re not exposed to it as a child.  I learned failure when I was young. My parents allowed me to fail, they didn’t shield me from it. But they were always there in the aftermath. That is good parenting.

I see too many young adults now who exhibit feelings of empowerment and entitlement. When someone disagrees with them, they are crushed and unable to handle it. They have lived charmed lives.  We all want what is best for our progeny. We want them to know only joy and success. But a false sense of security can before more damaging than the truth.

We inoculate our children against diseases that we know could be so incredibly harmful if they contracted them as adults. So why aren’t we doing the same thing with life. And how exactly do you measure success? Is it by how much money you have earned or awards you have received, or perhaps by the number people you have touched positively? I know what I use.

 

Who Shall I Kill Next?

 

Betty sipped her coffee hot

And watched the scene below

It was a busy market day

And the crowd was all aglow.

 

Children were laughing and running

Between the shopping stalls.

Mothers with prams were trying

To manoeuvre makeshift walls.

 

Nearby long-suffering fathers

Trying to look so cool.

Or at the very least

Not appear the fool.

 

Betty could see the thieves

Trying to work the crowd

They tried to be unnoticed

Their work was not allowed.

 

Then the Workers of the Night

Came looking for a score.

It looked like easy pickings

As they peaked around a door.

 

Now Betty had a code

That she followed to a T

She could not bring herself

To hurt a child you see.

 

So she would stay away

From the mothers that were there

The fathers on the other hand

Who said life was fair?

 

Though it might be easy

But it really was a thought

Men could be the target

She wondered if she ought.

 

She was getting bored.

Somebody had to die.

Should they be deserving

Or one who caught her eye?

 

The sun was setting for the night

Soon the light would dim

Work was needed to be done

It’s not a silly whim.

 

She heaved a sigh, and flexed her arms

And prepared to take a life.

Perhaps she’d use some poison

Or perhaps just with a knife . . .

 

 

Chapter One . . .