When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that the child was missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights
focused on the impressive Steinway on stage. In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit.""Keep playing." Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child, and he added a running obbligato. Together, the old master and the young novice transformed what could have been a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was so mesmerized that they couldn't recall what else the great master played. Only the classic, " Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." Perhaps that's the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on
our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't always graceful flowing music. However, with the hand of the Master, our life's work can truly be beautiful.

The next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You may hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your ear, "Don't quit." "Keep playing." May you feel His arms around you and know that His hands are there, helping you turn your feeble attempts into true masterpieces. Remember, God doesn't seem to call the equipped, rather, He equips the 'called.'
Life is more accurately measured by the lives you touch than by the things you acquire. So touch someone by passing this little message along.

May God bless you and be with you always! and remember ,
"Don't quit." "Keep playing."

She's in her parents bathroom,And she's crying all alone.She's staring at her reflection,And no one else is home.She's mad and she's depressed,She holds a blade in her right hand.She's lost her grip on life,While reality slips through her hands like sand.She's staring at her wrist,And envying its perfections.She's planned this for so long,But nobody pays attention.She's made up her mind,And she's not afraid to die.She's not afraid of pain,And there's no need to say 'good-bye.'She's afraid no one will stop her,Even though she hates her life.She's blank and she's tired,As she glances at the knife.She puts the blade to her skin,And she knows what she is doing.She slit her wrist,But exactly whose life is she running?She's lying on the floor,Watching her soul slip away.She's still crying and she's lifeless,In her head she starts to pray.She's closing her eyes,And it's time for her to go.She whispers, "I'm so sorry."But to whom....We'll never know

Im bored at the moment have nothing 2 write so yeah, this is like the first blog entry i've made, i think....??? ANy way might make an entry l8ter on tonight peace out my homies