Saturday, October 20, 2012


This is a poem I love love and love.

If you can keep your head when all about you
 are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
 or being hated, don't give way to hating,
 and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster
 and treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
 twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
 and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
 and risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, and lose, and start again at your beginnings
 and never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
 to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you
 except the will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, and - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

RIP Mama Sam,
The memory of the righteous is a blessing (Prov 10:7). Somehow we believe that some people can never die and that they would be with forever. Last week I was reminded  that we should tell those we love how much we love them because  tomorrow is not promised. Mama Sam I'm still trying to come to terms with your loss and I  can't believe you have gone. Sun re oo. 

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