THE STORM OF LIFE

Into every life a little rain must fall. How we deal with that rain is what determines our future. Sometimes humanity shines brightest under inhumane conditions, because from nauseating humus springs the most beautifully flourished lilies of our valleys. So, when the storm of life ravages through your world, you must not throw in the towel and give in to tears. Instead, reexamine your steps in life and chart a new roadmap for your existence. Remember, our life is an accumulation of our past, both good and bad. So, too, is the way we see it. That is why an unexamined life is not worth living. At times, we all search for meaning in our lives, often in vain. Perhaps the answer is not to find meaning, but to give it, its meaning. I say this because, life is filled with choices, and where we call "home" or your “workplace” is just one of them. How you design your house to be a home to fit your lifestyle, your taste and stature or personality in this world is your own choice. In making or redesigning your “home,” remember in times of desperation, what we seek cannot be easily found. It is in those desperate moments that our lives move from dreams to nightmares regardless what we do. But then, we must not be discouraged. We must just make anew each day of our lives by brightening each corner of it. Have you noticed that life doesn't just exist? By definition, it lives. And that inevitably means growth. Above all, be yourself. What we call life is a long series of discrete events, all leading to one all-important discovery. And what we call misery in life is relentless until you seek to silence it by finding harmony within ourselves and the world around us. I have come to believe that we are often shaped as much by the pain in our life as well as by the joys. And your pain, no matter how real, is but a small drop in an ocean of all miseries. So, set your eyes on tomorrow. And note, if life is like a rose, then what about the thorns? So, cheer yourself up. No one will do it for you. Let us pray.........

My Prayer

long as the morning sun rises from the east,
the Light that wakens man and beast
the Hand that pats the shoulder

and restores light and hope in every soul
the Arm that darkness can never deface
will take man through another day
draw his soul from every slumber
walk him through every burning wood
He will tender the furrowed cheek
brace the weary soul
to catch the dew of another dawn
He will nestle the broken-hearted
bathe the despairing in the warmth of hope
till there are smiles again
like the petals of a morning flower