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Writer's Corner April 24, 2008
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Writers' Corner

If you have a poem, song lyrics or a short story and you would like to share it with the readers of The Statesman now is your chance.

Email or mail us your submission and look for it in an upcoming issue of The Statesman.

PAPER HANGING

There's nothing quite like wall papering.
A panel's cut and on the wall you've stuck it,
Then, stepping down from the ladder
You put your foot in the paste bucket.

What a disaster, this sticky mess,
But - things could have been worse.
Be glad you're all in one piece,
And only your pride you must nurse.

Though you persist through trial and error
Your house will be the talk of the town,
For when you view your handiwork at last,
You find it's all on upside down!
by Dorothy Miller Birdwell

STEWARDSHIP

Stewardship means being willing to step in, do small tasks to help others or the Church. Who are you really helping? The Church, an organization, yourself, or Jesus?

It's not about how much you can do or about how important you or the task is. It's not about starting at the top: helping or giving advice to the pastor, or guilt into doing something. It's starting small - small tasks. It can be cleaning restrooms, classrooms, chalkboards, tables, floors, etc.

It can be mowing, edging, or weeding flower beds. It can be assisting with maintenance projects: painting, installing, repairing, etc.

The important thing to remember is ... it's not about you. The opportunities are there; let Jesus speak to your heart. It's the "big picture," it's about serving for Jesus, having a servant's heart, being willing.

By starting small, not obligating yourself to too much at first, can lead you into new areas of learning, serving, expanding your spiritual life, renewing your heart and soul and motivating one to serve in other areas for Jesus.

Take the time for Jesus ... because he takes the time for you.
by Darian Jones

THE MAIDEN

The first rays of the morning sky
Appear quietly on the horizon.
From the shadows in the meadow
Arises the form of a maiden,
Her golden hair is tousled and free.
Shivering in the cold air of day
The maiden stretches her lovely form;
The sun's rays touch her caressingly
And is torn free, the maiden is no more.
A unicorn is standing in her place;
It shakes its silver mane and whinnies to the wind.
by Jeanne Mancini