Courage Does Not Always Roar

I received the poem below, written by Paula Fox, for the book Courage Does Not Always Roar, in my inbox this morning from Simple Truths. It was my dose of daily inspiration. What I love about my daily inspiration emails is that they are always exactly on the topic I need at that moment. I'm not sure how that happens, but it does.

It got me to thinking about courage and all the courageous women I know. It's not easy being courageous. In fact, some days, the most courageous action is just agreeing to try again tomorrow, even in the face of overwhelming odds, fear and complete despair.

Little Merry Sunshine is dedicated to women of courage today.

When life gets you down and the problems you face
are certainly more than your share...
When you run out of strength and you want to give up
because it's just too much to bear...

I want to remind you, my precious friend,
that you have what it takes inside...
extraordinary courage that may not ROAR
but it doesn't cower and hide

It's the quiet voice inside you that says,
"Tomorrow I'll try again."
It's the courage to keep on going...
to see things through to the end

You are not defined by this moment in time.
You are not what has happened to you
It's the way you choose to respond that matters
and what you decide to do

Courage is not the absence of fear,
but a powerful choice we make...
the choice to move forward with PURPOSE
...regardless of what it takes

It's the courage that's found in ordinary women
who are HEROES in their own way,
exhibiting strength and fortitude
in life's challenges every day...

Valiant woman of exceptional courage
with enduring power to cope...
taking each problem one day at a time
and never giving up HOPE.

We're encouraged by the faith of others
to survive and overcome,
with the courage to say, "I may be down...
but the battle is not done!"

For the WOMAN of COURAGE is a winner...
regardless of what she loses
She displays amazing beauty and strength
with the attitude she chooses

She gives herself the permission she needs...
to feel disappointed or sad.
But then she empowers herself with faith...
to focus on good things...not bad

Her story is one of gentle strength
reminding us all once more...
Steel is sometimes covered in velvet
and...
COURAGE doesn't always roar

By Paula Fox for Courage Does Not Always Roar by Bobi Seredich

Twas The Night Before Christmas

This has always been one of my favorite poems going back longer than I can remember. In fact, my parents like to tell the story about how I used to make them read this to me over and over and over again every night, even when it wasn't Christmas. I loved books long before I could read. One night, when I was about 2, my parents heard me in my room talking to myself. When they walked in, they discovered I was sitting on my bed with my Twas the Night Before Christmas book, reading aloud, and turning the pages appropriately. They were convinced I was an uber-genius and had learned to read at the precocious age of 2, until they realized that they'd read me the poem so many times I had memorized it!

Without further ado . . .

Twas the Night Before Christmas
(also called "A Visit from St. Nicholas)
by Clement Clarke Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Thoughts of You

Thoughts of You is a poem my mom used to recite to me when I was little, often when she was tucking me in at night. I just found it handwritten inside one of my old day planners. I don't know how I know it's by Katherine N. Davis, but that's what it says. I googled her and the poem and can't find either one.

Thoughts of You
by Katherine N. Davis

If my thoughts could only do
The things I wish they would,
They'd call on you and brighten up your day.
They'd chase your cares away
And bring laughter instead . . .
They'd perch upon your bed
And fluff your pillow and even wait on you.
They'd let the sunlight in
And make gay flowers bloom
In profusion in your room.
They'd keep you company and chat
Of how you feel and this and that,
And smile at you and
Read you a good book.
Last of all, they'd make you feel
That each day is fair and sweet . . .
and then their job would be complete.