Showing posts with label Sunday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunday. Show all posts

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Sunday's Thought and Picture


"Scientists can look at the rings of trees and make educated guesses about climate and growing conditions hundreds and even thousands of years ago. One of the things we learn from studying the growth of trees is that during seasons when conditions are ideal, trees grow at a normal rate. However, during seasons when growing conditions are not ideal, trees slow down their growth and devote their energy to the basic elements necessary for survival.

It is good advice to slow down a little, steady the course, and focus on the essentials when experiencing adverse conditions.When stress levels rise, when distress appears, when tragedy strikes, too often we attempt to keep up the same frantic pace or even accelerate, thinking somehow that the more rushed our pace, the better off we will be.

The wise understand and apply the lessons of tree rings. They resist the temptation to get caught up in the frantic rush of everyday life. They follow the advice “There is more to life than increasing its speed.” In short, they focus on the things that matter most.
We have to forego some good things in order to choose others that are better or best."

Of Things That Matter Most
Uchtodorf
{read the rest of this talk here}

Happy Sunday Lovelies!

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Sunday's Thought and Picture

Second post today, but I needed to do my Sunday thought.
"Life is good, if we live in such a way to make it so.' . . . 'A good life' comes as a result of the way we do things, of the words we choose to say, and even of the kind of thoughts we choose to have."


Have a lovely Sunday all!

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Sunday's Thought and Picture


I don't know where I got this poem but I love it.
It reminds me that life suffering is mandatory,
but misery and sorrow are optional.
Remember life is about rejoicing.
Happy Sunday to you all!
Luvs!

The Weaver


My life is but a weaving between my God and Me,
I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily.

Ofttimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget that He seeth the upper, and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly.
Shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful in the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares, nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those who leave the choice to Him.