If you are a Christian, God has a specific and definite plan for your life. He works in a way that is different from what you may have been taught about the way He does things, and you must choose to carry out His plans rather than pursue your own. The choice is always up to you; He won't force you to obey Him. Be very choosy about the people with whom you become close friends; they can influence you for either good or bad.
The more you get to know God, the more you will see that He always has your best interest at heart in whatever He tells you to do. It may not be the plan you had in mind, but if you follow Him, you will look back and see how much better His path has been for your life than the path you might have chosen without His guidance.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
A Wild And Crazy Language...
English is the most widely used language in the history of our planet. One in every 7 humans can speak it. More than half of the world's books and 3 quarters of international mail is in English. Of all the languages,it has the largest vocabulary - perhaps as many as 2 MILLION words. Nonetheless, let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.
We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb thru annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?
Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another?
Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.
We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb thru annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?
Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another?
Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.
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Sunday, January 25, 2009
A Poem....
Today is the first day of tomorrow.
Gas is on the rise.
Bombs exploding; a soldier dies.
People screaming; crying a world of tears,
Sorrow stream of disastrous fears.
Could it be?
Their raging sound of victory,
Or their savage like thirst of vengeance?
Soldier will fight,
This poem I write,
The war rages on into the night.
With pride and the hope of freedom we fight.
For a better day and a graceful night,
Love thy enemy with all thy might.
Life full of emotion,
Heart full of pain,
The race for justice, freedom, and happiness
Is all we have to gain.
Look with the hope to the potential of each new day
For today is all we truly have.
Gas is on the rise.
Bombs exploding; a soldier dies.
People screaming; crying a world of tears,
Sorrow stream of disastrous fears.
Could it be?
Their raging sound of victory,
Or their savage like thirst of vengeance?
Soldier will fight,
This poem I write,
The war rages on into the night.
With pride and the hope of freedom we fight.
For a better day and a graceful night,
Love thy enemy with all thy might.
Life full of emotion,
Heart full of pain,
The race for justice, freedom, and happiness
Is all we have to gain.
Look with the hope to the potential of each new day
For today is all we truly have.
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