As you grow up, I hope to teach you many things. One of the most important things I hope to show/teach you is compassion. There is a poem that I found when I was little and have held it near and dear to my heart ever since. I truly believe that you should always be looking for ways to better the world around you, help others when you can, and be kind. Everyone is having trouble with something in their life, and you never know how a small act of kindness can brighten someone's day. I hope that you become the type of person who is always looking for an opportunity to do something nice for someone else. Take action! Don't procrastinate. Always do your best. It doesn't have to be earth shattering, just letting someone know that you care can be enough. Be true to yourself and do what you know in your heart is right! I know you will make me proud, because I know you are a good person. I love you so much my sweet boy!
Love,
Your adoring mom
The Sin of Omission
by: Margaret E. Sangster
It isn’t the thing you do, dear,
Its the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At setting of the sun.
The tender work forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flowers you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts at night.
Its the thing you leave undone
That gives you a bit of a heartache
At setting of the sun.
The tender work forgotten,
The letter you did not write,
The flowers you did not send, dear,
Are your haunting ghosts at night.
The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother’s way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle, winning tone
Which you had no time nor thought for
With troubles enough of your own.
Out of a brother’s way;
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say;
The loving touch of the hand, dear,
The gentle, winning tone
Which you had no time nor thought for
With troubles enough of your own.
Those little acts of kindness
So easily out of mind,
Those chances to be angels
Which we poor mortals find
So easily out of mind,
Those chances to be angels
Which we poor mortals find
They come in night and silence,
Each sad, reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging,
And a chill has fallen on faith.
Each sad, reproachful wraith,
When hope is faint and flagging,
And a chill has fallen on faith.
For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late:
And it isn’t the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
And sorrow is all to great,
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late:
And it isn’t the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you leave undone
Which gives you a bit of heartache
At the setting of the sun.
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