"Piglet had got up early that morning to pick himself a bunch of violets; and when he had picked them and put them in a pot in the middle of his house, it suddenly came over him that nobody had ever picked Eeyore a bunch of violets." 

-The House at Pooh Corner

     When I was a little girl and would spend a night at my paternal grandparent's home, my grandma always curled up with me to read aloud from A.A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh books.  How I loved the sweet way my grandmother did Piglet's bits--a little frightened sounding, yet brave...always gentle.   

     I want to live like that.  I want to pick a bunch of violets and share them with a grump.  I want to call to the neighborhood children to share the cheery joy of spring's first crocus opening it's brilliant cup to a world of browns and grays.   I want to fill the gas tank of the stranded,  smile at the broken-hearted,  hug the stranger-woman who cries for a reason unknown.   I want to open my door to the needy, call the lonely gal who desires to talk when I have "better things to do".   I want to walk slowly with the aged, sing songs in the ears of the suffering, give until it costs.  I want to be a balm to the hurting, a light to the dying, a living letter to the world. I want to live for Christ even when I'm a little frightened.  I want to be brave...always gentle.