W h o  I  A m . . .















Presented by: Codrina Cozma

To: SGWP Summer 2001 Anthology








H a p p i n e s s 







The Bible says

God wants His sons and daughters to be happy.                                           

But they will look for happiness

In the exalted power that fame and money entail.

Just like Solomon,

I have found that riches of gold and knowledge

Are but a shadow of happiness.

But in the light of the blue skies of America,

In the whisper of the wind through the palms,

As I read my Bible under the splashes of a fountain,

And as the sunbeams flicker upon its holy leaves,

Has my heart been filled

With a sound and eternal happiness.












I Wish 


I wish

I could feel

The silky softness of grass blades

Under my feet.


I wish

The ocean

Wrapped me in cold swinging waves.


I wish
I could ride a white horse

Up a hill as the sun goes down.



But if none of these wishes

Ever comes true,

I simply wish that God

Held my hand

As I walk down the path of my life.





















Sunbeams touch

The strings of my heart,

And I wonder:

Could my praise song

To my Lord

Be as sweet as that of the birds?


The fragrant colors of the flowers

Caress my eyes,

And I wonder:

Is there any greater artist

Than my Heavenly Daddy?


And as the blue beauty of the high skies

Streams down into my thirsty soul,

I wonder:

Who am I

To be filled with His grace

And wrapped up in happiness?


His answers were hidden

In the bleeding sunset clouds,

In twinkling stars,

And in lush woods flooded by the sunrise light:

It was His infinite love

That made the world

A world of wonders

For His children.

And I wonder:

How could anyone say no

To such a glorious beauty,

To such an incredible love?















I  r e m e m b e r . . . 

I remember a sunny summer day when a doctor told my mom I would not live to be two.  We went out into a park nearby that hospital, and my mom’s shaky arms were holding me so tight, and streams of tears were flooding her face.  She looked me in the eye, and said to me, “You’ve got to live, my sweet baby, you’ve got to be strong like an American!”  When I turned two, the news came out that famous physician had died.  For me, God had other plans: He made me His special child, kept me alive, and made me strong like an American. 

I remember my great grandfather who had fought in World War II.  He would walk into my grandparents’ yard and sit me on his knees and words of wisdom and love would slip out of his mouth.  He told me what a great nation Americans were, and he told me that someday, I would be back on my feet.  I remember riding my grandfather’s horses as a child and praying every night to my Daddy in Heaven, “Dear Lord, make me a strong, and loving, and faithful American, and help me walk out of my wheelchair some day!” 

I remember my parents taking me out to see historical movies about the American Revolution, and the Civil War, and Pearl Harbor, and what not.  Daddy always used to say to me after the movie was over, “See, these are the people who have made America what it is today and we must be proud of them.  They are the generations that suffered and worked hard to build the greatest nation in the world!”  I remember tears springing forth from my heart every time I would look up to the American flag flapping in the breeze of other countries in which I lived.

I have kept my love for God and for good old America, everywhere I went.  But there was something else that I have lovingly cherished deep in my soul: it was the image of a radiant angel that shortly shone in my life.      

I remember asking my Lord to send me a little blond curly-haired sister.  I did that for ten years, and she was finally born when I was eleven.  God put so much love, and grace, and beauty, and intelligence in my little sister; she had golden wavy hair and she was the most precious gift I have ever received from God.  I had this strong feeling that my Heavenly Father created her the way I wanted during all those years when I was praying for a little sister.  But one night, a week after she had turned nine, she flew back ÿto Heaven, and all I have left is her sweet, gracious memory.  I have carried her in my heart ever since, everywhere I was around the world.  I still stop at the carousel every time I go to the mall, and I imagine my little angel sister riding those little wooden





horses.  I can almost see her beautiful blue eyes glittering with joy, and her shiny golden locks waving away as the little horses go

round and round…