Sometimes it can be quite hard to write a story…I know. I feel like I’ve come to a stand still in inspiration. Oh well. I’ll catch more later. 🙂
On June 5, 2010, my sisters and I…and my mom…hosted an International Tea Party here at the house. It was so much fun!
The girls dressed in Chinese, French, Russian, American, English…the list goes on.
Here we have East Indian: Sophia Williams and Mindy Roberts
French: Meghan Scott
This is the group together.
Mexico: Melody (My youngest sister)
We had fairy cakes, tea, petite fours, brownies, scones and duritos (we call them wagon wheels because that’s what they look like).
We did crafts and a game (which wasn’t very fun) and a skit. That part was great! It was a Jewish story.
I had so much fun helping to host this tea party and I can hardly wait until we do it again! 🙂
We Are Friends
Whether the day is good or bad,
Whether I’m feeling happy or sad,
If I have a need, you’ll comprehend;
You’ll be there to share and be a friend.
Other people may fill my day,
But never in such an important way;
We support each other ‘round all life’s bends,
It feels so good that we are friends.
By Karl Fuchs
The air is crisp and the grass is still shivering in the frost,
yet there is something whispering hope to the trees that are still bare. If you listen carefully, you can hear the gentle breeze say, “Live, my friend, for spring is near.” The trees quiver with a joy that is contagious, as the birds can testify, for the birds burst forth with a glorious song; chirping choruses of praise to their Maker above.
That gentle whisper coaxes forth new life from the earth that once looked so dead and wee sprouts come up from deep within, for things are stirring down below.
And that gentle whisper is calling, “Live!” to you and me.
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear —
And not sit beside the next,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give his joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not year.
Oh He gives to us his joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled an gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
Creaking of leather saddles, the soft breath of horses, mist in the morning….
Joy! Oh sweet bliss!
Soft fur, rain, thunder, lightning….
Is there anything sweeter on this earth than my favorite things???