My Friday Fave – This is the Day The Lord Has Made

Evening is my favorite time within the twenty-four:

  • A cup of hot brew in my whoo-owl mug (especially so with a steady beat of rain melodically playing in the background)
  • Prime reading time (no doubt we’re empty nesters, eh?)
  • Sometimes it’s Piper time (who needs to read?)
  • Exercise behind me…white fizz time before me (Seagram’s ginger-ale soaked in crushed ice)

These are just a few reasons why I enjoy our evenings here at the Baker home—but one new nightly ritual has particularly won me over: Brian reading aloud from William J. Bennett’s, The Book of Virtues, while I’m curled up nearby with my oh-so-soft vintage blanket and Rupert, our white fluff bucket.

The book is a treasury of great moral stories, as promised on the cover. Bible stories, childhood tales, poetry (such as this one), and short stories come alive with one click of the reading lamp.

So, is there a particular time within the twenty-four that you’re especially enjoying these days—or do you find the hours quietly sifting into the next day without notice?

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24

Answering the Demon of Can’t

Can’t is the worst word that’s written or spoken;
Doing more harm here than slander and lies;
On it is many a strong spirit broken,
And with it many a good purpose dies.
It springs from the lips of the thoughtless each morning
And robs us of courage we need through the day:
It rings in our ears like a timely sent warning
And laughs when we falter and fall by the way.

Can’t is the father of feeble endeavor,
The parent of terror and halfhearted work;
It weakens the efforts of artisans clever,
And makes of the toiler and indolent shirk.
It poisons the soul of the man with a vision,
It stifles in infancy many a plan;
It greets honest toiling with open derision
And mocks at the hopes and the dreams of a man.

Can’t is a word none should speak without blushing;
To utter it should be a symbol of shame;
Ambition and courage it daily is crushing;
It blights a man’s purpose and shortens his aim.
Despise it with all of your hatred of error;
Refuse it the lodgment it seeks in your brain;
Arm against it as a creature of terror,
And all that you dream of someday shall gain.

Can’t is the word that is foe to ambition,
An enemy ambushed to shatter your will;
Its prey is forever the man with a mission
And bows but to courage and patience and skill.
Hate it, with hatred that’s deep and undying,
For once it is welcomed ’twill break any man;
Whatever the goal you are seeking, keep trying
And answer this demon by saying: “I can.”

-Edgar Guest

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