Fine Strokes go on a blank page. The narrow brush Lay's in bits of color. The delicate hand responds to the artist eye. The Canvas absorbs the colors, as one by one they are removed from the pallet. With each stroke and fine line you can hear the whisper out of the brush as it laughs. Across the canvas it glides, bringing out fine points and inserting curvatures and lines. The canvas burst with laughter as a portrait comes to life. What was a blank page, is now a wash with vibrant color. The image speaks of laughter and Mirth as it leaps off the canvas with the final brush Strokes The Artist makes laughter and joy for all the world to see.

Somehow the lines were funnier last night. This morning the words do not make any sense. There are War drums pounding in my head, so I must revise my script. Instead of Science Fiction, I now think I'll write a western. Perhaps I'll scrap the whole thing and start over when I can see again, double vision makes it hard to type and I would likely **** myself if I tried to use a pen. So I will drink a third cup of coffee and wait to get rid of this hangover. Then perhaps my words will finally make sense when I can again write sober.

Caring should not take a resolution. Giving of yourself should not be a guilty pledge, it should be the way we live. We should not wait one hour to help out our fellow human, we should do it now. It should not take a new year for each of us to see how we can help someone out.

The embodiment of what was written, my life shall be every page. The word of our God that was given, all of man kind to save. Made flesh and walking among us, he passed on the light to you and I. It is for each of us to live as close as we can to the life of Christ.

A young girl stared in the window, her breath fogged up the glass. There stood a fancy ensemble. Her heart almost burst watching it on display! She wanted to wear it for the holidays, but she had little money to spend. So she went away with a great longing, and a dream in her heart. She paid a visit to her grandmother and talked about her Winter's dream, oh how good a Christmas dress would look upon me. Listening intently beneath agent silver hair, she reached and took the child by the hand with the greatest care. She brought her into a room filled with Dusty sunlight. She showed her bolts of tapestry, red green and white. She said that you can buy many things, but those you won't enjoy the best. So she set her down at a sewing machine, and said let's make that Christmas dress. With the long pieces of green fabric, and sharpen scissors in hand. The aged woman guided the young girl directing her small gentle hands. With each snip and cut the green fabric took shape. Into the form of a dress that the two of them would make. Remove from the table and laid across a form pins were inserted and the dress was adorned. Wood trim with white lace in red ribbons here in there. Sequins and sparkles gave it a Christmas Flair. Then off of The Forum and to a sewing machine, with careful stitching the two created a dream. When it was all done and the dress fit just right, the young girl danced about in joyous Delight! Through all of the holidays she sparkled and gleamed ,with her Christmas dress she was a beautiful dream. Yet her greatest joy wasn't what she had to wear, but the memories she made and the time she had shared. So though you can buy fancy things oh, you can count yourself blessed if someone shares with you how to make a Christmas dress.

Your skin is pure as the snow covering a mountain valley. Your eyes shine like two stars in the heavens. Your hair flows like the Lilies of the Field in the Wind. Each foot step you take is as gentle as a hummingbird's wings. You are far more than human your soul must be divine. So how shall I a mere mortal love you? When it is so obvious that the host of Heaven would gladly call you their own, and yet you have cast your gaze on an imperfect creatures such as I.

I drive by the same street each and every day. On the corner there stands a man as happy as he can be. His clothes are torn and ragged and it looks like he could use a good meal. Yet he always smiles and waves Yet he always smiles and waves, every time that I go by. I pulled over to the side one day when I saw him drinking from a paper bag. I rolled down my window and said that must be some really good stuff. He just laughed and smiled and said once it was never enough. He reached in the bag and pulled out a bottle of water you see. He then smiled a little more as he walked closer to me. He said I used to be a wino and I didn't give a care. I would drink almost anything and I will sleep just about anywhere. But then one day I met a beggar and he told me about a man he meant by the sea. He said from that minute forward, he was forever changed just like me. So I asked him if you don't drink then why are you on the street? He said I want to share my happiness with everyone I meet. That beggar was once a wino and was lost just like me but he showed me the way to Jesus and I no longer have to drink you see. In a moment of stunned silence, I just found the strength to smile I drove away confused but only for a little while. I pull over to the side of the road again and my tears begin to flow because I knew that wino had a peace that I had never known. I surrendered my heart to Jesus right then in there. I then one on my way where I had lost all my cares. One day I heard that wino, had quietly passed away. So so now I'm taking his place as I go along my way. I'm not standing on a street corner in ragged and torn up close, but I share what he shared with me everywhere I go.