December 6, 2007
Christmas, 1st Corinthians 13 Style
If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls, but do not show love to my family, I'm just another decorator.
If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family, I'm just another cook.
If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family, it profits me nothing.
If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir's cantata but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point.
Love stops the cooking to hug the child.
Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.
Love is kind, though harried and tired.
Love doesn't envy another's home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.
Love doesn't yell at the kids to get out of the way.
Love doesn't give only to those who are able to give in return but rejoices in giving to those who can't.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails. Video games will break, pearl necklaces will be lost, golf clubs will rust. But giving the gift of love will endure.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
November 30, 2007
Who is the Shepherd?
Years ago, when our daughters were very young, we'd drop them off at our church's Children's Chapel on Sundays before the service.
One Sunday, just as I was about to open the door to the small chapel, the priest came rushing up in full vestments. He said he had an emergency and asked if I'd speak to the children at their story time. He said the subject was the Twenty-third Psalm.
But just as I was about to get up from the back row and talk about the good shepherd, the priest burst into the room and signaled to me that he would be able to do the story time after all.
He told the children about sheep, that they weren't smart and needed lots of guidance, and that a shepherd's job was to stay close to the sheep, protect them from wild animals and keep them from wandering off and doing dumb things that would get them hurt or killed.
He pointed to the little children in the room and said that they were the sheep and needed lots of guidance and protection.
Then the minister put his hands out to the side, palms up in a dramatic gesture, and with raised eyebrows said to the children, "If you are the sheep then who is the shepherd?" He was pretty obviously indicating himself.
A silence of a few seconds followed. Then a young visitor said, "Jesus, Jesus is the shepherd."
The young priest, obviously caught by surprise, said to the boy, "Well, then, who am I?"
The little boy frowned thoughtfully and then said with a shrug, "I guess you must be a sheep dog."
Who is the Shepherd?
Years ago, when our daughters were very young, we'd drop them off at our church's Children's Chapel on Sundays before the service.
One Sunday, just as I was about to open the door to the small chapel, the priest came rushing up in full vestments. He said he had an emergency and asked if I'd speak to the children at their story time. He said the subject was the Twenty-third Psalm.
But just as I was about to get up from the back row and talk about the good shepherd, the priest burst into the room and signaled to me that he would be able to do the story time after all.
He told the children about sheep, that they weren't smart and needed lots of guidance, and that a shepherd's job was to stay close to the sheep, protect them from wild animals and keep them from wandering off and doing dumb things that would get them hurt or killed.
He pointed to the little children in the room and said that they were the sheep and needed lots of guidance and protection.
Then the minister put his hands out to the side, palms up in a dramatic gesture, and with raised eyebrows said to the children, "If you are the sheep then who is the shepherd?" He was pretty obviously indicating himself.
A silence of a few seconds followed. Then a young visitor said, "Jesus, Jesus is the shepherd."
The young priest, obviously caught by surprise, said to the boy, "Well, then, who am I?"
The little boy frowned thoughtfully and then said with a shrug, "I guess you must be a sheep dog."
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
November 28, 2007
No More With Me
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me! I don't mean to hold you up," he said as he struggled to get off the escalator.
I'll admit to it. There have been times when walking or driving behind an older person I've gotten impatient and upset. I've huffed and zoomed around them because I was in a hurry to get nowhere. Perhaps I'm more aware of it now because I see myself there one day soon. Today I saw myself in this old man's shoes and it caused me to slow down, stop and ask for his forgiveness.
He was about five or six people ahead of me. I was in a hurry and saw him as an obstacle. I've seen people get off the end of an escalator and stop dead in their tracks, gather their things and suddenly there's a pile up of angry people behind them. You can't stop an escalator full of people behind you. Like the Energizer bunny, they keep on goin'.
This man was well aware of the challenge. He tried desperately to step aside. Fumbling with his small packages, struggling to gain his footing, you could see how troubling this was for him. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me! I don't mean to hold you up," he said as he struggled to get off the escalator.
I suddenly saw this in a whole new light. It was like I was watching my future. I felt sorry for him. I felt sick to my stomach because this man was apologizing to everyone, when we should have been helping him and calming his fears.
One by one, people zipped around him. I heard a few angry comments whispered as one lady passed by him.
I saw me.
By the time I got to him he was just about steady on his feet.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know there was more," he said.
"No, sir. No more with me," I said. This really hit me hard. I realized right then how sad it was that the world was in such a hurry. That, of course, included me. But...no more with me. Count me out.
This wonderful man paid his dues. For whatever time he had spent on this earth, he most likely walked many rough roads and too many important miles. Now he should be apologizing for moving slower?
My heart ached as I looked into his eyes. I wished that I could see what he had seen all those years. His face weathered from life itself, was creased and wrinkled. The small soft pockets under his eyes and the gentle lines that curved up and around them told me he had many happy moments, too. Those were traces left behind from laughter and a smiling, happy man.
"My friend, can I help you with those things?" I asked.
Hesitant at first, he finally said, "Well, yes, thank you!"
I placed my hand under his left arm and walked with him a safe distance away from the rush of people.
"So what are you shopping for, sir?"
"Oh, just a little something for my neighbor. She's a young mother raising kids on her own. She's always so nice to me. I thought a box of candy for Mother's Day..." he said, stopping suddenly as he searched his inside pocket of his sport coat.
"Do you need something?" I asked.
"Oh, no. Here. I think I have it right here. I always carry them with me," he said. Then pulling out a hand full of papers he shuffled through them and handed me a business card that read:
"John A. Pomicter Friend to all...enemy to no one! I said a prayer today and you were the answer. Thank you!"
"That's for you," he said. "Thanks for stopping to help an old man."
"My friend, you helped me. I discovered that I was unhappy with the world and I was part of the problem. Now I'll be part of the solution. No more with me!"
No More With Me
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me! I don't mean to hold you up," he said as he struggled to get off the escalator.
I'll admit to it. There have been times when walking or driving behind an older person I've gotten impatient and upset. I've huffed and zoomed around them because I was in a hurry to get nowhere. Perhaps I'm more aware of it now because I see myself there one day soon. Today I saw myself in this old man's shoes and it caused me to slow down, stop and ask for his forgiveness.
He was about five or six people ahead of me. I was in a hurry and saw him as an obstacle. I've seen people get off the end of an escalator and stop dead in their tracks, gather their things and suddenly there's a pile up of angry people behind them. You can't stop an escalator full of people behind you. Like the Energizer bunny, they keep on goin'.
This man was well aware of the challenge. He tried desperately to step aside. Fumbling with his small packages, struggling to gain his footing, you could see how troubling this was for him. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me! I don't mean to hold you up," he said as he struggled to get off the escalator.
I suddenly saw this in a whole new light. It was like I was watching my future. I felt sorry for him. I felt sick to my stomach because this man was apologizing to everyone, when we should have been helping him and calming his fears.
One by one, people zipped around him. I heard a few angry comments whispered as one lady passed by him.
I saw me.
By the time I got to him he was just about steady on his feet.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know there was more," he said.
"No, sir. No more with me," I said. This really hit me hard. I realized right then how sad it was that the world was in such a hurry. That, of course, included me. But...no more with me. Count me out.
This wonderful man paid his dues. For whatever time he had spent on this earth, he most likely walked many rough roads and too many important miles. Now he should be apologizing for moving slower?
My heart ached as I looked into his eyes. I wished that I could see what he had seen all those years. His face weathered from life itself, was creased and wrinkled. The small soft pockets under his eyes and the gentle lines that curved up and around them told me he had many happy moments, too. Those were traces left behind from laughter and a smiling, happy man.
"My friend, can I help you with those things?" I asked.
Hesitant at first, he finally said, "Well, yes, thank you!"
I placed my hand under his left arm and walked with him a safe distance away from the rush of people.
"So what are you shopping for, sir?"
"Oh, just a little something for my neighbor. She's a young mother raising kids on her own. She's always so nice to me. I thought a box of candy for Mother's Day..." he said, stopping suddenly as he searched his inside pocket of his sport coat.
"Do you need something?" I asked.
"Oh, no. Here. I think I have it right here. I always carry them with me," he said. Then pulling out a hand full of papers he shuffled through them and handed me a business card that read:
"John A. Pomicter Friend to all...enemy to no one! I said a prayer today and you were the answer. Thank you!"
"That's for you," he said. "Thanks for stopping to help an old man."
"My friend, you helped me. I discovered that I was unhappy with the world and I was part of the problem. Now I'll be part of the solution. No more with me!"
Monday, November 26, 2007
Be The Miracle
It had been a week of heavy frosts in the evenings here. The frozen nights had just about killed off the grass and most of the flowers were gone as well. The bitter, morning air was a reminder that Fall was almost over and that Winter was just around the corner. I noticed too as I walked my dogs on that cold afternoon that the trees in the woods were getting as bare as the top of my head. It seemed like it November’s gloom was everywhere. It was then, however, that I saw it. A single yellow butterfly was floating in the breeze and feasting on the few remaining dandelions left in my yard. It was a little miracle that filled my soul with delight. I smiled and thanked God for this message of joy and for all the little miracles in this world.
So many people in this life pray for big miracles but fail to notice the little miracles that are all around them. This past Friday, my neighbor called and offered me 3 tickets to see Hannah Montana last night in the Greensboro Coliseum, thus providing me the opportunity to be the coolest Dad in the world in the eyes of my 9 year old daughter Hannah. Then after the concert was over, my wife, daughter and her best friend found the van with a flat tire. Here enters another miracle when a gentleman by the name of Gene Stafford, who owns Leapfrog Gallery in Colfax, changed the flat and got my family back on the way home. Throughout all of this, I’m changing channels trying to find something for my other two to watch while I’m on the phone with my wife. I found Bruce Almighty and right at the end where he’s at a blood drive challenging everyone to give blood and to ….are you ready for this…..Be The Miracle!
Now I’ll never claim to be the brightest bulb in the pack, but even I could feel the Lord tapping me on the shoulder, telling me that he was in control and I needed to take time to see all the miracles that surround me and look for opportunities that I can…..Be The Miracle!
It had been a week of heavy frosts in the evenings here. The frozen nights had just about killed off the grass and most of the flowers were gone as well. The bitter, morning air was a reminder that Fall was almost over and that Winter was just around the corner. I noticed too as I walked my dogs on that cold afternoon that the trees in the woods were getting as bare as the top of my head. It seemed like it November’s gloom was everywhere. It was then, however, that I saw it. A single yellow butterfly was floating in the breeze and feasting on the few remaining dandelions left in my yard. It was a little miracle that filled my soul with delight. I smiled and thanked God for this message of joy and for all the little miracles in this world.
So many people in this life pray for big miracles but fail to notice the little miracles that are all around them. This past Friday, my neighbor called and offered me 3 tickets to see Hannah Montana last night in the Greensboro Coliseum, thus providing me the opportunity to be the coolest Dad in the world in the eyes of my 9 year old daughter Hannah. Then after the concert was over, my wife, daughter and her best friend found the van with a flat tire. Here enters another miracle when a gentleman by the name of Gene Stafford, who owns Leapfrog Gallery in Colfax, changed the flat and got my family back on the way home. Throughout all of this, I’m changing channels trying to find something for my other two to watch while I’m on the phone with my wife. I found Bruce Almighty and right at the end where he’s at a blood drive challenging everyone to give blood and to ….are you ready for this…..Be The Miracle!
Now I’ll never claim to be the brightest bulb in the pack, but even I could feel the Lord tapping me on the shoulder, telling me that he was in control and I needed to take time to see all the miracles that surround me and look for opportunities that I can…..Be The Miracle!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Pick of the week November 23,2007
*Exercise Program*
Here is an exercise program for those of us whose wisdom exceeds our ambition. The doctor told me "Physical exercise is good for you." I know that I should do it, but my body is out of shape, so I have worked out this easy daily program I can do anywhere. If I can do it, you can do this, too.
Monday:
Beat around the bush.
Jump to conclusions.
Climb the walls.
Wade through paperwork.
Tuesday:
Drag my heels.
Push my luck.
Make mountains out of molehills.
Hit the nail on the head.
Wednesday:
Bend over backwards.
Jump on the bandwagon.
Balance the books.
Run around in circles.
Thursday:
Toot my own horn.
Climb the ladder of success.
Pull out the stops.
Add fuel to the fire.
Friday:
Open a can of worms.
Put my foot in my mouth.
Start the ball rolling.
Go over the edge.
Saturday:
Pick up the pieces.
*Exercise Program*
Here is an exercise program for those of us whose wisdom exceeds our ambition. The doctor told me "Physical exercise is good for you." I know that I should do it, but my body is out of shape, so I have worked out this easy daily program I can do anywhere. If I can do it, you can do this, too.
Monday:
Beat around the bush.
Jump to conclusions.
Climb the walls.
Wade through paperwork.
Tuesday:
Drag my heels.
Push my luck.
Make mountains out of molehills.
Hit the nail on the head.
Wednesday:
Bend over backwards.
Jump on the bandwagon.
Balance the books.
Run around in circles.
Thursday:
Toot my own horn.
Climb the ladder of success.
Pull out the stops.
Add fuel to the fire.
Friday:
Open a can of worms.
Put my foot in my mouth.
Start the ball rolling.
Go over the edge.
Saturday:
Pick up the pieces.
November 20, 2007
God's Message To Women
When I created the heavens and the earth, I spoke them into being. When I created man, I formed him and breathed life into his nostrils. But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man because your nostrils are too delicate. I allowed a deep sleep to come over him so I could patiently and perfectly fashion you.
Man was put to sleep so that he could not interfere with the creativity. From one bone I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects man's life. I chose the rib, which protects his heart and lungs and supports him, as you are meant to do. Around this one bone I shaped you. I modeled you. I created you perfectly and beautifully.
Your characteristics are as the rib, strong yet delicate and fragile. You provide protection for the most delicate organ in man, his heart. His heart is the center of his being; his lungs hold the breath of life.
The rib cage will allow itself to be broken before it will allow damage to the heart. Support man as the rib cage supports the body. You were not taken from his feet, to be under him, nor were you taken from his head, to be above him. You were taken from his side, to stand beside him and be held close to his side.
You are my perfect angel. You are my beautiful little girl. You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence, and my eyes fill when I see the virtues in your heart. Your eyes - don't change them. Your lips how lovely when they part in prayer. Your nose, so perfect in form, your hands so gentle to touch. I've caressed your face in your deepest sleep; I've held your heart close to mine. Of all that lives and breathes, you are the most like me. Adam walked with me in the cool of the day and yet he was lonely. He could not see me or touch me. He could only feel me. So everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with me, I fashioned in you: my holiness, my strength, my purity, my love, my protection and support.
You are special because you are the extension of me. Man represents my image - woman, my emotions. Together, you represent the totality of God.
So man - treat woman well. Love her, respect her, for she is fragile. In hurting her, you hurt me. What you do to her, you do to me. In crushing her, you only damage your own heart, the heart of your Father, and the heart of her Father.
Woman, support man. In humility, show him the power of emotion I have given you. In gentle quietness show your strength. In love, show him that you are the rib that protects his inner self.
Did you not know that WOMAN was so special in God's eyes? Now we really know! Hallelujah!!
God's Message To Women
When I created the heavens and the earth, I spoke them into being. When I created man, I formed him and breathed life into his nostrils. But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man because your nostrils are too delicate. I allowed a deep sleep to come over him so I could patiently and perfectly fashion you.
Man was put to sleep so that he could not interfere with the creativity. From one bone I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects man's life. I chose the rib, which protects his heart and lungs and supports him, as you are meant to do. Around this one bone I shaped you. I modeled you. I created you perfectly and beautifully.
Your characteristics are as the rib, strong yet delicate and fragile. You provide protection for the most delicate organ in man, his heart. His heart is the center of his being; his lungs hold the breath of life.
The rib cage will allow itself to be broken before it will allow damage to the heart. Support man as the rib cage supports the body. You were not taken from his feet, to be under him, nor were you taken from his head, to be above him. You were taken from his side, to stand beside him and be held close to his side.
You are my perfect angel. You are my beautiful little girl. You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence, and my eyes fill when I see the virtues in your heart. Your eyes - don't change them. Your lips how lovely when they part in prayer. Your nose, so perfect in form, your hands so gentle to touch. I've caressed your face in your deepest sleep; I've held your heart close to mine. Of all that lives and breathes, you are the most like me. Adam walked with me in the cool of the day and yet he was lonely. He could not see me or touch me. He could only feel me. So everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with me, I fashioned in you: my holiness, my strength, my purity, my love, my protection and support.
You are special because you are the extension of me. Man represents my image - woman, my emotions. Together, you represent the totality of God.
So man - treat woman well. Love her, respect her, for she is fragile. In hurting her, you hurt me. What you do to her, you do to me. In crushing her, you only damage your own heart, the heart of your Father, and the heart of her Father.
Woman, support man. In humility, show him the power of emotion I have given you. In gentle quietness show your strength. In love, show him that you are the rib that protects his inner self.
Did you not know that WOMAN was so special in God's eyes? Now we really know! Hallelujah!!
Thursday, November 15, 2007
November 15, 2007
IF GOD SHOULD GO ON STRIKE
How is it that God above
Has never gone on strike
Because he was not treated fair
In things He didn't like.
If only once He'd given up,
And said, 'That's it, I'm through!
I've had enough of those on earth,
So this is what I'll do;
I'll give my orders to the sun -
'Cut off the heat supply!'
And to the moon - 'Give no more
Light, and run the ocean dry.'
Then just to make things really tough
And put the pressures on,
'Turn off the vital oxygen
Till every breath is gone!'
You know, He would be justified
If fairness was the game.
For no one has been abused
Or met with more disdain
Than God, any yet He carries on
Supplying you and me
With all the favors of His grace
And everything for free.
Men say they want a better deal
And so on strike they go.
But what a deal we've given
To God to whom all things we owe.
We don't care whom we hurt
To gain the things we like.
But what a mess we'd all be in
If God should go on strike!!
IF GOD SHOULD GO ON STRIKE
How is it that God above
Has never gone on strike
Because he was not treated fair
In things He didn't like.
If only once He'd given up,
And said, 'That's it, I'm through!
I've had enough of those on earth,
So this is what I'll do;
I'll give my orders to the sun -
'Cut off the heat supply!'
And to the moon - 'Give no more
Light, and run the ocean dry.'
Then just to make things really tough
And put the pressures on,
'Turn off the vital oxygen
Till every breath is gone!'
You know, He would be justified
If fairness was the game.
For no one has been abused
Or met with more disdain
Than God, any yet He carries on
Supplying you and me
With all the favors of His grace
And everything for free.
Men say they want a better deal
And so on strike they go.
But what a deal we've given
To God to whom all things we owe.
We don't care whom we hurt
To gain the things we like.
But what a mess we'd all be in
If God should go on strike!!
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
November 13, 2007
The Legend of KILROY
The young James Kilroy was working on the docks of Boston harbor in the 1940s, loading the freight ships of the time with big crates filled with blue jeans, destined for the far reaches of the world.
One early November morning the day started as so many before it. The wind was blowing, the weather was gray and drab, and James Kilroy was not in a mood for anything but staying inside, sheltered from wind and rain.
"So, Kilroy, are you dreaming again? Not much you get done today." Kilroy not even blinked, he was used to the foreman and his insults. And the boxes with 100,000 pairs of blue jeans were waiting to be loaded. No way around it, he better get it over with.
But when Kilroy bent down to lift one of the crates he suddenly got a bright idea -- an idea so brilliant that it couldn't be withheld. He grabbed a piece of chalk out of his pocket, and with big, visible letters he marked each box with: "KILROY WAS HERE."
And through those boxes -- appearing in harbors across the whole planet --KILROY's spirit reached the whole world. Indeed an effective way of getting around! After that, whenever the foreman shouted to Kilroy that he never got anything accomplished, he just smiled. He knew better. In harbors across the globe boxes were appearing every day to prove the foreman wrong. Kilroy knew that one could transcend borders and break through barriers many ways, and thereby feel free and independent.
The Legend of KILROY
The young James Kilroy was working on the docks of Boston harbor in the 1940s, loading the freight ships of the time with big crates filled with blue jeans, destined for the far reaches of the world.
One early November morning the day started as so many before it. The wind was blowing, the weather was gray and drab, and James Kilroy was not in a mood for anything but staying inside, sheltered from wind and rain.
"So, Kilroy, are you dreaming again? Not much you get done today." Kilroy not even blinked, he was used to the foreman and his insults. And the boxes with 100,000 pairs of blue jeans were waiting to be loaded. No way around it, he better get it over with.
But when Kilroy bent down to lift one of the crates he suddenly got a bright idea -- an idea so brilliant that it couldn't be withheld. He grabbed a piece of chalk out of his pocket, and with big, visible letters he marked each box with: "KILROY WAS HERE."
And through those boxes -- appearing in harbors across the whole planet --KILROY's spirit reached the whole world. Indeed an effective way of getting around! After that, whenever the foreman shouted to Kilroy that he never got anything accomplished, he just smiled. He knew better. In harbors across the globe boxes were appearing every day to prove the foreman wrong. Kilroy knew that one could transcend borders and break through barriers many ways, and thereby feel free and independent.
Monday, November 12, 2007
November 12th, 2007
What Is A Veteran?
(Marine Corp chaplain, Father Denis Edward O'Brian)
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside them, a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking. What is a vet?
A vet is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
A vet is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th Parallel.
A vet is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
A vet is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back at all.
A vet is the drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account punks and gang members into marines, airmen, sailors, soldiers and coast guardsmen, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
A vet is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.
A vet is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.
A vet is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
A vet is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
A vet is an ordinary and yet extraordinary human being, a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
A vet is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more that the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say, "Thank You." That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Again, two little words that mean a lot to any Veteran -- "THANK YOU."
Addendum -- John 15:13 (KJV) "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
What Is A Veteran?
(Marine Corp chaplain, Father Denis Edward O'Brian)
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside them, a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a vet just by looking. What is a vet?
A vet is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
A vet is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th Parallel.
A vet is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
A vet is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back at all.
A vet is the drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account punks and gang members into marines, airmen, sailors, soldiers and coast guardsmen, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
A vet is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.
A vet is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.
A vet is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
A vet is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
A vet is an ordinary and yet extraordinary human being, a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
A vet is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more that the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say, "Thank You." That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Again, two little words that mean a lot to any Veteran -- "THANK YOU."
Addendum -- John 15:13 (KJV) "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
Friday, November 09, 2007
November 9, 2007
A minister was walking along the corridor of the parochial school near the preschool wing when a group of little ones were trotting by on the way to the cafeteria. One little lad of about three or four stopped and looked at him in his clerical clothes and asked, "Why do you dress funny?"
He told him he was a minister and this is the uniform ministers wear.
Then the boy pointed to the minister's plastic collar tab and asked, "Do you have an owie?"
The minister was perplexed till he realized that to him the collar tab looked like a band aid. So the minister took it out and handed it to the boy to show him.
On the back of the tab are raised letters giving the name of the manufacturer. The little guy felt the letters, and the minister asked, "Do you know what those words say?"
"Yes, I do," said the lad who was not old enough to read.
Peering intently at the letters he said, "Kills ticks and fleas up to six months."
A minister was walking along the corridor of the parochial school near the preschool wing when a group of little ones were trotting by on the way to the cafeteria. One little lad of about three or four stopped and looked at him in his clerical clothes and asked, "Why do you dress funny?"
He told him he was a minister and this is the uniform ministers wear.
Then the boy pointed to the minister's plastic collar tab and asked, "Do you have an owie?"
The minister was perplexed till he realized that to him the collar tab looked like a band aid. So the minister took it out and handed it to the boy to show him.
On the back of the tab are raised letters giving the name of the manufacturer. The little guy felt the letters, and the minister asked, "Do you know what those words say?"
"Yes, I do," said the lad who was not old enough to read.
Peering intently at the letters he said, "Kills ticks and fleas up to six months."
Friday, November 02, 2007
Friday 11/2/07
The Silversmith
There was a group of women in a Bible Study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."
This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group a their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest or her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.
The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot- then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver. She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered "yes," he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eye on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.
The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?" He smiled at her and answered, "Oh that's easy. When I see my image in it."
If today you are feeling the heat of this world's fire, just remember that God has his eyes on you.
The Silversmith
There was a group of women in a Bible Study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."
This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.
One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group a their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest or her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.
The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot- then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver. She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered "yes," he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eye on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.
The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?" He smiled at her and answered, "Oh that's easy. When I see my image in it."
If today you are feeling the heat of this world's fire, just remember that God has his eyes on you.
Monday, October 29, 2007
October 29, 2007
How Will The Church Be Lighted?
Several centuries ago in a mountain village in Europe, a wealthy nobleman wondered what legacy he could leave to his townspeople. He made a good decision. He decided to build them a church. No one was permitted to see the plans or the inside of the church until it was finished. At its grand opening, the people gathered and marveled at the beauty of the new church. Everything had been thought of and included. It was a masterpiece.
But then someone said, "Wait a minute! Where are the lamps? It is really quite dark in here. How will the church be lighted?" The nobleman pointed to some brackets in the walls, and then he gave each family a lamp, which they were to bring with them each time they came to worship.
"Each time you are here'" the nobleman said, "the place where you are seated will be lighted. Each time you are not here, that place will be dark. This is to remind you that whenever you fail to come to church, some part of God's house will be dark"
That's a poignant story, isn't it? And it makes a very significant point about the importance of our commitment and loyalty to the church. The poet Edward Everett Hale put it like this:
I am only one,
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something;
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something I can do.
What if every member of your church supported the church just as you do? What kind of church would you have? What if every single member served the church, attended the church, loved the church, shared the church, and gave to the church exactly as you do? What kind of church would you be?
How Will The Church Be Lighted?
Several centuries ago in a mountain village in Europe, a wealthy nobleman wondered what legacy he could leave to his townspeople. He made a good decision. He decided to build them a church. No one was permitted to see the plans or the inside of the church until it was finished. At its grand opening, the people gathered and marveled at the beauty of the new church. Everything had been thought of and included. It was a masterpiece.
But then someone said, "Wait a minute! Where are the lamps? It is really quite dark in here. How will the church be lighted?" The nobleman pointed to some brackets in the walls, and then he gave each family a lamp, which they were to bring with them each time they came to worship.
"Each time you are here'" the nobleman said, "the place where you are seated will be lighted. Each time you are not here, that place will be dark. This is to remind you that whenever you fail to come to church, some part of God's house will be dark"
That's a poignant story, isn't it? And it makes a very significant point about the importance of our commitment and loyalty to the church. The poet Edward Everett Hale put it like this:
I am only one,
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something;
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something I can do.
What if every member of your church supported the church just as you do? What kind of church would you have? What if every single member served the church, attended the church, loved the church, shared the church, and gave to the church exactly as you do? What kind of church would you be?
Friday, October 26, 2007
October 26, 2007
Rebecca & Jacob
Jacob, age 92, and Rebecca, age 89, living in Florida , are all excited about their decision to get married.
They go for a stroll to discuss the wedding, and on the way they pass a drugstore. Jacob suggests they go in.
Jacob addresses the man behind the counter: "Are you the owner?"
The pharmacist answers, "Yes."
Jacob: "We're about to get married. Do you sell heart medication?"
Pharmacist: "Of course we do."
Jacob: "How about medicine for circulation?"
Pharmacist: "All kinds."
Jacob: "Medicine for rheumatism and scoliosis?"
Pharmacist: "Definitely."
Jacob: "How about Viagra?"
Pharmacist: "Of course."
Jacob: "Medicine for memory problems, arthritis, jaundice?"
Pharmacist: "Yes, a large variety. The works."
Jacob: "What about vitamins, sleeping pills, Geritol, antidotes for Parkinson's disease?"
Pharmacist: "Absolutely."
Jacob: "You sell wheelchairs and walkers?"
Pharmacist: "All speeds and sizes."
Jacob: "We'd like to use this store as our Bridal Registry."
Rebecca & Jacob
Jacob, age 92, and Rebecca, age 89, living in Florida , are all excited about their decision to get married.
They go for a stroll to discuss the wedding, and on the way they pass a drugstore. Jacob suggests they go in.
Jacob addresses the man behind the counter: "Are you the owner?"
The pharmacist answers, "Yes."
Jacob: "We're about to get married. Do you sell heart medication?"
Pharmacist: "Of course we do."
Jacob: "How about medicine for circulation?"
Pharmacist: "All kinds."
Jacob: "Medicine for rheumatism and scoliosis?"
Pharmacist: "Definitely."
Jacob: "How about Viagra?"
Pharmacist: "Of course."
Jacob: "Medicine for memory problems, arthritis, jaundice?"
Pharmacist: "Yes, a large variety. The works."
Jacob: "What about vitamins, sleeping pills, Geritol, antidotes for Parkinson's disease?"
Pharmacist: "Absolutely."
Jacob: "You sell wheelchairs and walkers?"
Pharmacist: "All speeds and sizes."
Jacob: "We'd like to use this store as our Bridal Registry."
Thursday, October 25, 2007
October 25, 2007
The Flat Tire
My tire had a staple in it. Of all times for this to happen -- a flat tire. But when is a good time for a flat tire? Not when you are wearing a suit and you have been traveling for nearly five hours and, adding to this bleak picture, nightfall is approaching.
Wait; did I mention that I was on a country road? Okay, now you have the picture. There was only one thing to do: call AAA. Yeah, right. The cell phone I bought for security and protection in moments like this isn't in range to call anyone. "No Service" it says. No kidding!
I sat for a few minutes moaning and complaining. It's a male thing. Then I began emptying my trunk so that I could get at the tire and tools needed to get the job done. I carry a large plastic container filled with what I call "just-in-case-stuff." When I am training or speaking, I love to have props with me. I hate leaving anything home so I bring everything ...just in case.
Cars buzz by me. A few beep sarcastically. I hear the horn saying "ha ha!" I say, "You'll get yours!" Darkness begins to settle in. It's becoming a bit difficult to see. The tire is on the passenger side, thank God, away from all the traffic, but making it difficult to benefit from the headlights of passing cars.
Suddenly a car pulls off the road behind me. In the blinding light I see a male figure approaching me. "Hey, do you need any help?" "Well, it certainly isn't easy doing this with a white dress shirt and suit on," I said. Then he steps into the light. I literally was frightened.
This young guy was dressed in black. Nearly everything imaginable was pierced and tattooed. His hair was cropped and poorly cut. He had leather bracelets with spikes on each wrist. "How about I give you a hand?" he said. "Well, I don't know . . . I think I can . . . " "Come on, it will only take me a few minutes." He took right over. While watching him I happened to look back at his car and noticed for the first time someone sitting in the passenger seat. That concerned me.
I suddenly felt outnumbered. Thoughts of car-jackings and robberies flashed through my mind. I really just wanted to get this over and survive it.
Then, without warning, it began to pour. The night sky had hidden the approaching clouds. It hit like a waterfall and made it impossible to finish the tire change. "Look, my friend, just stop what you're doing. I appreciate all your help. You better get going. I'll finish after the rain stops," I said.
"Let me help you put your stuff back in the trunk. It will get ruined," he insisted. "Then get in my car. We'll wait with you," he insisted. "No, really. I'll take care of everything," I said.
"You can't get in your car with the jack up like that. It will fall. Come on. Get in," he said as he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the car. Crack! Boom! Lightning and thunder roared like a freight train. I literally jumped in his car. "Oh, God, protect me!" I thought to myself.
Wet and tired I settled into the back seat. Suddenly a small frail voice came from the front seat of the car. "Are you all right?" she said as she turned around to face me. "Yes, I am," I replied with much relief seeing the old woman there. It must be his Mom.
"My name is Beatrice and this is my neighbor Jeff," she said. "He insisted on stopping when he saw you struggling with the tire." "I am grateful for his help," I said. "Me, too!" she said with a laugh. "Jeff takes me to visit my husband. We had to place him in a nursing home and it's about 30 minutes away from where we live. So, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we have a date." She laughed and shook her head.
"We're the remake of the Odd Couple," Jeff said as he joined in laughing."
"Jeff, that's incredible what you do for her. I would never have guessed, well, ah, you know I . . ." I stumbled with the words.
"I know. People who look like me don't do nice things," he said. Silence. I really felt uncomfortable. I never believed that I judged people by the way they dressed. I was angry with myself for being so stupid.
"Jeff is a great kid. I'm not the only one he helps. He's a volunteer at our church. He also works with the kids in the learning center at the low income housing unit in our town," said Beatrice.
"I'm a tutor" Jeff said quietly as he stared at my car. Silence again played a part now in a moment of reflection rather than the uncomfortable feeling that I had insulted someone. He was right. What he wore on the outside was a reflection of the world as he saw it. What he wore on the inside was the spirit of giving, caring and loving the world he wanted to see.
The rain stopped and Jeff and I changed the tire. I tried to offer him money and of course he refused it. As we shook hands I began to apologize for my stupidity.
He said, "I experience that same reaction often. I actually thought about changing the way I look. But then I saw this as an opportunity to make a point. So I'll leave you with the same question I ask everyone who takes time to know me. If Jesus returned tomorrow and walked among us again, would you recognize Him by what He wore or by what He did?
The Flat Tire
My tire had a staple in it. Of all times for this to happen -- a flat tire. But when is a good time for a flat tire? Not when you are wearing a suit and you have been traveling for nearly five hours and, adding to this bleak picture, nightfall is approaching.
Wait; did I mention that I was on a country road? Okay, now you have the picture. There was only one thing to do: call AAA. Yeah, right. The cell phone I bought for security and protection in moments like this isn't in range to call anyone. "No Service" it says. No kidding!
I sat for a few minutes moaning and complaining. It's a male thing. Then I began emptying my trunk so that I could get at the tire and tools needed to get the job done. I carry a large plastic container filled with what I call "just-in-case-stuff." When I am training or speaking, I love to have props with me. I hate leaving anything home so I bring everything ...just in case.
Cars buzz by me. A few beep sarcastically. I hear the horn saying "ha ha!" I say, "You'll get yours!" Darkness begins to settle in. It's becoming a bit difficult to see. The tire is on the passenger side, thank God, away from all the traffic, but making it difficult to benefit from the headlights of passing cars.
Suddenly a car pulls off the road behind me. In the blinding light I see a male figure approaching me. "Hey, do you need any help?" "Well, it certainly isn't easy doing this with a white dress shirt and suit on," I said. Then he steps into the light. I literally was frightened.
This young guy was dressed in black. Nearly everything imaginable was pierced and tattooed. His hair was cropped and poorly cut. He had leather bracelets with spikes on each wrist. "How about I give you a hand?" he said. "Well, I don't know . . . I think I can . . . " "Come on, it will only take me a few minutes." He took right over. While watching him I happened to look back at his car and noticed for the first time someone sitting in the passenger seat. That concerned me.
I suddenly felt outnumbered. Thoughts of car-jackings and robberies flashed through my mind. I really just wanted to get this over and survive it.
Then, without warning, it began to pour. The night sky had hidden the approaching clouds. It hit like a waterfall and made it impossible to finish the tire change. "Look, my friend, just stop what you're doing. I appreciate all your help. You better get going. I'll finish after the rain stops," I said.
"Let me help you put your stuff back in the trunk. It will get ruined," he insisted. "Then get in my car. We'll wait with you," he insisted. "No, really. I'll take care of everything," I said.
"You can't get in your car with the jack up like that. It will fall. Come on. Get in," he said as he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the car. Crack! Boom! Lightning and thunder roared like a freight train. I literally jumped in his car. "Oh, God, protect me!" I thought to myself.
Wet and tired I settled into the back seat. Suddenly a small frail voice came from the front seat of the car. "Are you all right?" she said as she turned around to face me. "Yes, I am," I replied with much relief seeing the old woman there. It must be his Mom.
"My name is Beatrice and this is my neighbor Jeff," she said. "He insisted on stopping when he saw you struggling with the tire." "I am grateful for his help," I said. "Me, too!" she said with a laugh. "Jeff takes me to visit my husband. We had to place him in a nursing home and it's about 30 minutes away from where we live. So, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we have a date." She laughed and shook her head.
"We're the remake of the Odd Couple," Jeff said as he joined in laughing."
"Jeff, that's incredible what you do for her. I would never have guessed, well, ah, you know I . . ." I stumbled with the words.
"I know. People who look like me don't do nice things," he said. Silence. I really felt uncomfortable. I never believed that I judged people by the way they dressed. I was angry with myself for being so stupid.
"Jeff is a great kid. I'm not the only one he helps. He's a volunteer at our church. He also works with the kids in the learning center at the low income housing unit in our town," said Beatrice.
"I'm a tutor" Jeff said quietly as he stared at my car. Silence again played a part now in a moment of reflection rather than the uncomfortable feeling that I had insulted someone. He was right. What he wore on the outside was a reflection of the world as he saw it. What he wore on the inside was the spirit of giving, caring and loving the world he wanted to see.
The rain stopped and Jeff and I changed the tire. I tried to offer him money and of course he refused it. As we shook hands I began to apologize for my stupidity.
He said, "I experience that same reaction often. I actually thought about changing the way I look. But then I saw this as an opportunity to make a point. So I'll leave you with the same question I ask everyone who takes time to know me. If Jesus returned tomorrow and walked among us again, would you recognize Him by what He wore or by what He did?
Thursday, October 18, 2007
October 18, 2007
The Weathered Old Barn
A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right off he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands, and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty.
Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.
That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood.
It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using the hard wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy!
They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man's house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.
And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been through here ... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's house.
May today there be peace within you.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
The Weathered Old Barn
A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right off he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands, and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty.
Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.
That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood.
It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using the hard wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy!
They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man's house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.
And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been through here ... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's house.
May today there be peace within you.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
October 17, 2007
*Re-Gifting*
A woman had a wedding to go to, and needed a wedding gift.
"Aha," she thought, "I have that monogrammed silver tray from my wedding that I never use. I'll just take it to a silversmith and have him remove my monogram and put hers on it. Voila, one cheap wedding present."
She took it to the silversmith and asked him to remove her monogram and put the new one on. The silversmith examined the tray carefully, shook his head and said, "Lady, this can only be done so many times!"
*Re-Gifting*
A woman had a wedding to go to, and needed a wedding gift.
"Aha," she thought, "I have that monogrammed silver tray from my wedding that I never use. I'll just take it to a silversmith and have him remove my monogram and put hers on it. Voila, one cheap wedding present."
She took it to the silversmith and asked him to remove her monogram and put the new one on. The silversmith examined the tray carefully, shook his head and said, "Lady, this can only be done so many times!"
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
October 16, 2007
It's Between You And God
People are often unreasonable,
Illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind,
People may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful,
You will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank,
People may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building,
Someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness,
They may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today,
People will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have,
And it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis,
It is between you and God;
It never was between you and them anyway.
Be Blessed,
Mother Theresa
It's Between You And God
People are often unreasonable,
Illogical, and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind,
People may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful,
You will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank,
People may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building,
Someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness,
They may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today,
People will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have,
And it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis,
It is between you and God;
It never was between you and them anyway.
Be Blessed,
Mother Theresa
Monday, October 15, 2007
Hit The Floor
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room.
But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room.' I'll be right back and we'll go eat,' she told her husband and she carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.
As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was big... very big... an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two are going to rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered, and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind, but knew they surely did; her hesitation about joining them on the elevator was all too obvious. Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator.
Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased. The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her.
'My God, she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed' Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore. Then ...one of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her: Do what they tell you. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator carpet. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed.
More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, 'Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button.'
The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. She lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her feet. 'When I told my man here to hit the floor,' said the average sized one, 'I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am.' He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
She thought: 'My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself.' She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She didn't know what to say.
The 3 of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor, they insisted on walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter while they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen roses. Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred-dollar bill. The card said: 'Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years'
It was signed,
Eddie Murphy & Michael Jordan
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room.
But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room.' I'll be right back and we'll go eat,' she told her husband and she carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.
As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was big... very big... an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two are going to rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered, and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind, but knew they surely did; her hesitation about joining them on the elevator was all too obvious. Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator.
Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased. The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her.
'My God, she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed' Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore. Then ...one of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her: Do what they tell you. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator carpet. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed.
More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, 'Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button.'
The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. She lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her feet. 'When I told my man here to hit the floor,' said the average sized one, 'I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am.' He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
She thought: 'My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself.' She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She didn't know what to say.
The 3 of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor, they insisted on walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter while they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen roses. Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred-dollar bill. The card said: 'Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years'
It was signed,
Eddie Murphy & Michael Jordan
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
October 10, 2007
The Messenger
God, grant me the Serenity to accept the people I cannot change,
the Courage to change the one I can, and the Wisdom to know it's me !!!
The next time you feel like GOD can't use you, just remember . . .
Noah was a drunk
Abraham was too old
Isaac was a daydreamer
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses had a stuttering problem
Gideon was afraid
Samson had long hair and was a womanizer
Rahab was a prostitute
Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
David had an affair and was a murderer
Elijah was suicidal
Isaiah preached naked
Jonah ran from God
Naomi was a widow
Job went bankrupt
John the Baptist ate bugs
Peter denied Christ
The Disciples fell asleep while praying
Martha worried about everything
The Samaritan woman was divorced - more than once
Zaccheus was too small
Paul was too religious
Timothy had an ulcer . . . AND
Lazarus was dead!
No more excuses now. God can use you to your full potential.
Besides, you aren't the message -- you are the messenger.
The Messenger
God, grant me the Serenity to accept the people I cannot change,
the Courage to change the one I can, and the Wisdom to know it's me !!!
The next time you feel like GOD can't use you, just remember . . .
Noah was a drunk
Abraham was too old
Isaac was a daydreamer
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses had a stuttering problem
Gideon was afraid
Samson had long hair and was a womanizer
Rahab was a prostitute
Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
David had an affair and was a murderer
Elijah was suicidal
Isaiah preached naked
Jonah ran from God
Naomi was a widow
Job went bankrupt
John the Baptist ate bugs
Peter denied Christ
The Disciples fell asleep while praying
Martha worried about everything
The Samaritan woman was divorced - more than once
Zaccheus was too small
Paul was too religious
Timothy had an ulcer . . . AND
Lazarus was dead!
No more excuses now. God can use you to your full potential.
Besides, you aren't the message -- you are the messenger.
Monday, October 08, 2007
October 8, 2007
Ten Inches
A boy was sitting on a park bench with one hand resting on an open Bible. He was loudly exclaiming his praise to God.
"Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God is great!" he yelled without worrying whether anyone heard him or not.
Shortly after, along came a man who had recently completed some studies at a local university. Feeling himself very enlightened in the ways of truth and very eager to show this enlightenment, he asked the boy about the source of his joy.
"Hey," asked the boy in return with a bright laugh, "don't you have any idea what God is able to do? I just read that God opened up the waves of the Red Sea and led the whole nation of Israel right through the middle."
The enlightened man laughed lightly, sat down next to the boy and began to try to open his eyes to the "realities" of the miracles of the Bible.
"That can all be very easily explained. Modern science has shown that the Red Sea in that area was only 10-inches deep at that time. It was no problem for the Israelites to wade across."
The boy looked surprised. His eyes wandered from the man back to the Bible laying open in his lap. The man, content that he had enlightened a poor, naive young person to the finer points of scientific insight, turned to go.
Scarcely had he taken two steps when the boy began to rejoice and praise louder than before; "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God is SO great!". The man turned to ask the reason for this resumed jubilation.
"Wow!" exclaimed the boy happily, "God is greater than I thought! Not only did He lead the whole nation of Israel through the Red Sea, He topped it off by drowning the whole Egyptian army in only 10-inches of water!"
Addendum -- Proverbs 3:5 (NIV) "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;"
Ten Inches
A boy was sitting on a park bench with one hand resting on an open Bible. He was loudly exclaiming his praise to God.
"Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God is great!" he yelled without worrying whether anyone heard him or not.
Shortly after, along came a man who had recently completed some studies at a local university. Feeling himself very enlightened in the ways of truth and very eager to show this enlightenment, he asked the boy about the source of his joy.
"Hey," asked the boy in return with a bright laugh, "don't you have any idea what God is able to do? I just read that God opened up the waves of the Red Sea and led the whole nation of Israel right through the middle."
The enlightened man laughed lightly, sat down next to the boy and began to try to open his eyes to the "realities" of the miracles of the Bible.
"That can all be very easily explained. Modern science has shown that the Red Sea in that area was only 10-inches deep at that time. It was no problem for the Israelites to wade across."
The boy looked surprised. His eyes wandered from the man back to the Bible laying open in his lap. The man, content that he had enlightened a poor, naive young person to the finer points of scientific insight, turned to go.
Scarcely had he taken two steps when the boy began to rejoice and praise louder than before; "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God is SO great!". The man turned to ask the reason for this resumed jubilation.
"Wow!" exclaimed the boy happily, "God is greater than I thought! Not only did He lead the whole nation of Israel through the Red Sea, He topped it off by drowning the whole Egyptian army in only 10-inches of water!"
Addendum -- Proverbs 3:5 (NIV) "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;"
Thursday, October 04, 2007
October 2, 2007
How are You Doing
Something amazing happened Sunday and unless you are a sports fan or a cheesehead you probably missed it. Brett Farve, quarterback of the Green Bay Packers, became the NFL All Time Touchdown Passer, surpassing Miami Dolphins great Dan Marino.
Not only did Farve celebrate after throwing the record breaking TD pass, so did his teammates and the Vikings fans in Minnesota where the game was played. But then the special thing happened……the game announcer asked for Farve and the fans to look up at the Jumbotron and that’s when Dan Marino appeared and congratulated Brett on breaking his record that had stood for the past 13 years. Marino said that if anyone was going to break his record, he was glad it was him. That told me a lot about Marino and solidified why he is a Hall Of Famer!
How difficult is it to praise others in your profession when they out perform you? Whether it’s making more sales or bigger sales than you or maybe they receive awards and promotions that you felt you deserved. You know what I’m saying. But isn’t the golden rule to do unto others as you’d have them do unto you?
Well, How are you doing?
How are You Doing
Something amazing happened Sunday and unless you are a sports fan or a cheesehead you probably missed it. Brett Farve, quarterback of the Green Bay Packers, became the NFL All Time Touchdown Passer, surpassing Miami Dolphins great Dan Marino.
Not only did Farve celebrate after throwing the record breaking TD pass, so did his teammates and the Vikings fans in Minnesota where the game was played. But then the special thing happened……the game announcer asked for Farve and the fans to look up at the Jumbotron and that’s when Dan Marino appeared and congratulated Brett on breaking his record that had stood for the past 13 years. Marino said that if anyone was going to break his record, he was glad it was him. That told me a lot about Marino and solidified why he is a Hall Of Famer!
How difficult is it to praise others in your profession when they out perform you? Whether it’s making more sales or bigger sales than you or maybe they receive awards and promotions that you felt you deserved. You know what I’m saying. But isn’t the golden rule to do unto others as you’d have them do unto you?
Well, How are you doing?
Monday, September 24, 2007
September 24, 2007
Envy......it's one of the 7 deadly sins......yet it's one of the easist to do. How many times have you heard a co-worker describe their vacation and you start feeling you deserve a vacation like that. Then your neighbor drives home one day in his brand new car and thoughts start heading in that same direction. It's very easy to believe that the grass will always be greener on the other side of the fence.... but guess what??? It still have to be mowed!
Envy......it's one of the 7 deadly sins......yet it's one of the easist to do. How many times have you heard a co-worker describe their vacation and you start feeling you deserve a vacation like that. Then your neighbor drives home one day in his brand new car and thoughts start heading in that same direction. It's very easy to believe that the grass will always be greener on the other side of the fence.... but guess what??? It still have to be mowed!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Ponder of the week 9/21/07
57 CENTS
A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turned away, because it 'was too crowded'. "I can't go to Sunday school." she sobbed to the pastor as he walked by. Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed the reason and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Sunday school class.
The child was so touched that she went to bed that night thinking of the children who have no place to worship Jesus. Some two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor tenement buildings and the parents called for the kindhearted pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final arrangements.
As her poor little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump. Inside was found 57 cents and a note scribbled in childish handwriting, which read, "This is to help build the little church bigger."
For two years, she had saved for this offering of love. When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly what he would do.
Carrying this note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for a larger building.
But the story doesn't end there! A newspaper learned of the story and published it. A Realtor, who had read the article, offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so much, he offered it for 57 cents. Church members made large donations. Checks came from far and wide.
Within five years the little girl's gift had increased to $250,000. This was a huge sum for that time (near the turn of the century). Her unselfish love had paid large dividends.
When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist church, with a seating capacity of 3,300, and the Temple University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of Sunday Schoolers, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday School time.
In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russell H. Conwell, author of the book, "Acres of Diamonds."
A true Story.
Goes to show ... WHAT GOD CAN DO WITH 57 CENTS.
57 CENTS
A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turned away, because it 'was too crowded'. "I can't go to Sunday school." she sobbed to the pastor as he walked by. Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed the reason and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Sunday school class.
The child was so touched that she went to bed that night thinking of the children who have no place to worship Jesus. Some two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor tenement buildings and the parents called for the kindhearted pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final arrangements.
As her poor little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump. Inside was found 57 cents and a note scribbled in childish handwriting, which read, "This is to help build the little church bigger."
For two years, she had saved for this offering of love. When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly what he would do.
Carrying this note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for a larger building.
But the story doesn't end there! A newspaper learned of the story and published it. A Realtor, who had read the article, offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so much, he offered it for 57 cents. Church members made large donations. Checks came from far and wide.
Within five years the little girl's gift had increased to $250,000. This was a huge sum for that time (near the turn of the century). Her unselfish love had paid large dividends.
When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist church, with a seating capacity of 3,300, and the Temple University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of Sunday Schoolers, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday School time.
In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russell H. Conwell, author of the book, "Acres of Diamonds."
A true Story.
Goes to show ... WHAT GOD CAN DO WITH 57 CENTS.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
September 13, 2007
The Turkey Shot out of the Oven
The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air,
it knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.
It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with a deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen,
completely obscuring the room.
It stuck to the walls and the windows,
it totally coated the floor,
there was turkey attached to the ceiling,
where there'd never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance,
It smeared every saucer and bowl,
there wasn't a way I could stop it,
that turkey was out of control.
I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I'd never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn't been popped.
By Jack Prelutsky -- Source: Humor Digest, from 'WIT and WISDOM'
The Turkey Shot out of the Oven
The turkey shot out of the oven
and rocketed into the air,
it knocked every plate off the table
and partly demolished a chair.
It ricocheted into a corner
and burst with a deafening boom,
then splattered all over the kitchen,
completely obscuring the room.
It stuck to the walls and the windows,
it totally coated the floor,
there was turkey attached to the ceiling,
where there'd never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance,
It smeared every saucer and bowl,
there wasn't a way I could stop it,
that turkey was out of control.
I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure,
and thought with chagrin as I mopped,
that I'd never again stuff a turkey
with popcorn that hadn't been popped.
By Jack Prelutsky -- Source: Humor Digest, from 'WIT and WISDOM'
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
September 12, 2007
The Merry-Go-Round
It is the beginning of September here and my mind is full of delightful memories. When I was a child the beginning of September always equaled excitement and joy because that was the time of the local county fair. One of my earliest childhood memories, in fact, is riding the Merry-Go-Round with my Mom holding onto me while I giggled and held onto the horse. I remember too walking around and sharing a warm box of popcorn afterwards. It was such a blessed time.
As I got older I moved on from the Merry-Go-Round to the bumper cars, scrambler, octopus, and cyclone with the other big kids. I also moved on from popcorn to hot dogs, cotton candy, pizza, and cokes as well. I learned quickly too that it is always best to ride the rides first and eat the food later. When I grew into adulthood, though, I found myself back at the Merry-Go-Round again this time holding onto my own kids as they giggled and held onto the horses too. Now with my children all teenagers I am taking a break from the fair rides for awhile. I am resting up for the future, however. In ten or fifteen years my grandchildren may just need a steady hand to hold onto them as they laugh and enjoy their first rides on the Merry-Go-Round.
Life at times can be a lot like those rides at the fair. Sometimes you get to delight in and giggle your way around the Merry-Go-Round. Sometimes you end up banging up against others in the bumper cars. Sometimes you end up on rides that make you scream, turn your face white, and make you throw up two pounds worth of fair food. Sometimes you even get to watch God’s, glorious sun go down from the top of the Ferris Wheel. At the end of it all, though, what you remember is the joy you experienced, the laughter you shared, and the love you felt.
I thank God then for fairs and Merry-Go-Rounds. May they always brighten children’s souls and warm adults’ hearts. May they always bless this world with their joy.
Written by,
~ Joseph J. Mazzella ~
The Merry-Go-Round
It is the beginning of September here and my mind is full of delightful memories. When I was a child the beginning of September always equaled excitement and joy because that was the time of the local county fair. One of my earliest childhood memories, in fact, is riding the Merry-Go-Round with my Mom holding onto me while I giggled and held onto the horse. I remember too walking around and sharing a warm box of popcorn afterwards. It was such a blessed time.
As I got older I moved on from the Merry-Go-Round to the bumper cars, scrambler, octopus, and cyclone with the other big kids. I also moved on from popcorn to hot dogs, cotton candy, pizza, and cokes as well. I learned quickly too that it is always best to ride the rides first and eat the food later. When I grew into adulthood, though, I found myself back at the Merry-Go-Round again this time holding onto my own kids as they giggled and held onto the horses too. Now with my children all teenagers I am taking a break from the fair rides for awhile. I am resting up for the future, however. In ten or fifteen years my grandchildren may just need a steady hand to hold onto them as they laugh and enjoy their first rides on the Merry-Go-Round.
Life at times can be a lot like those rides at the fair. Sometimes you get to delight in and giggle your way around the Merry-Go-Round. Sometimes you end up banging up against others in the bumper cars. Sometimes you end up on rides that make you scream, turn your face white, and make you throw up two pounds worth of fair food. Sometimes you even get to watch God’s, glorious sun go down from the top of the Ferris Wheel. At the end of it all, though, what you remember is the joy you experienced, the laughter you shared, and the love you felt.
I thank God then for fairs and Merry-Go-Rounds. May they always brighten children’s souls and warm adults’ hearts. May they always bless this world with their joy.
Written by,
~ Joseph J. Mazzella ~
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Jeffie And Grandpa
Jeffie was in his playpen and he was crying. Tears were rolling down his little cheeks, his face was red as it could be. He was crying, and he looked pitiful in his little baseball T-shirt and a diaper.
Then Jeffie's Grandpa entered the room; Jeffie's little face lit up when he saw his Grandpa! He immediately reached out his little arms in supplication and said "Out Pa Pa out."
What is a Grandpa to do? How can someone resist that?
So Grandpa went over to the playpen, he bent over. He reached down to lift his little buddy from captivity and distress . . .
Just then "Law and Order" walked into the room.
Momma said "Jeffie, you stay right there! I'm punishing you because you have been naughty! Dad, leave Jeffie alone!"
What is a Grandpa to do?
Grandpa backs off and is thinking, "I can't just pick up a book and read it with Jeffie here. He would think I was uncaring and distant. I can't leave the room because he would feel like I have abandoned him."
What is a Grandpa to do?
But you know what? Love always finds a way. Since Grandpa couldn't take Jeffie out of the playpen, Grandpa climbed in with Jeffie!
Grandpa said "If you are in the playpen buddy, I'm in the playpen too. What are you in for? What is your sentence?"
Having Grandpa join him in his "prison cell" brought Jeffie great comfort and joy. In the midst of his captivity, Jeffie no longer felt so alone.
What Jeffie's Grandpa did is also a picture of what Jesus Christ did for us when He came to Earth as a baby.
God the Father yearned to reach down into our "playpen of captivity" and pull us out. He could not . . . because of our disobedience . . . because of our sin. What did God do?
God climbed into our "playpen" with us!
When Jesus Christ entered into our "playpen of captivity," He took the sin and disobedience that should have been ours alone, releasing us from our captivity . . . allowing us the opportunity to experience the fullness of life God has for us!
The message is simple, clear and personal: God with us . . . He loves you so much He sent His one and only Son, Jesus Christ!
"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have Eternal Life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him. Whoever believes in Him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only Son." John 3:16-18 (NIV)
Jeffie was in his playpen and he was crying. Tears were rolling down his little cheeks, his face was red as it could be. He was crying, and he looked pitiful in his little baseball T-shirt and a diaper.
Then Jeffie's Grandpa entered the room; Jeffie's little face lit up when he saw his Grandpa! He immediately reached out his little arms in supplication and said "Out Pa Pa out."
What is a Grandpa to do? How can someone resist that?
So Grandpa went over to the playpen, he bent over. He reached down to lift his little buddy from captivity and distress . . .
Just then "Law and Order" walked into the room.
Momma said "Jeffie, you stay right there! I'm punishing you because you have been naughty! Dad, leave Jeffie alone!"
What is a Grandpa to do?
Grandpa backs off and is thinking, "I can't just pick up a book and read it with Jeffie here. He would think I was uncaring and distant. I can't leave the room because he would feel like I have abandoned him."
What is a Grandpa to do?
But you know what? Love always finds a way. Since Grandpa couldn't take Jeffie out of the playpen, Grandpa climbed in with Jeffie!
Grandpa said "If you are in the playpen buddy, I'm in the playpen too. What are you in for? What is your sentence?"
Having Grandpa join him in his "prison cell" brought Jeffie great comfort and joy. In the midst of his captivity, Jeffie no longer felt so alone.
What Jeffie's Grandpa did is also a picture of what Jesus Christ did for us when He came to Earth as a baby.
God the Father yearned to reach down into our "playpen of captivity" and pull us out. He could not . . . because of our disobedience . . . because of our sin. What did God do?
God climbed into our "playpen" with us!
When Jesus Christ entered into our "playpen of captivity," He took the sin and disobedience that should have been ours alone, releasing us from our captivity . . . allowing us the opportunity to experience the fullness of life God has for us!
The message is simple, clear and personal: God with us . . . He loves you so much He sent His one and only Son, Jesus Christ!
"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have Eternal Life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him. Whoever believes in Him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only Son." John 3:16-18 (NIV)
Monday, August 27, 2007
August 27, 2007
FOR PARENTS THE FIRST DAY THEIR GIRLS GO TO SCHOOL:
I TRUST YOU’LL TREAT HER WELL
DEAR WORLD,
I BEQUEATH TO YOU TODAY ONE LITTLE GIRL IN A CRISPY DRESS WITH TWO BLUE EYES AND A HAPPY LAUGH THAT RIPPLES ALL DAY LONG AND A FLASH OF LIGHT BLOND HAIR THAT BOUNCES IN THE SUN WHEN SHE RUNS. I TRUST YOU'LL TREAT HER WELL.
SHE'S SLIPPING OUT OF THE BACKYARD OF MY HEART THIS MORNING AND SKIPPING OFF DOWN THE STREET TO HER FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. AND NEVER AGAIN WILL SHE BE COMPLETELY MINE. PRIM AND PROUD SHE'LL WAVE HER YOUNG AND INDEPENDENT HAND THIS MORNING AND SAY "GOODBYE" AND WALK WITH LITTLE LADY STEPS TO THE SCHOOLHOUSE.
NOW SHE'LL LEARN TO STAND IN LINES AND WAIT BY THE ALPHABET FOR HER NAME TO BE CALLED. SHE'LL LEARN TO TUNE HER EARS FOR THE SOUNDS OF SCHOOL-BELLS AND DEADLINES AND SHE'LL LEARN TO GIGGLE AND GOSSIP AND LOOK AT THE CEILING IN A DISINTERESTED WAY WHEN THE LITTLE BOY 'CROSS THE AISLE STICKS OUT HIS TONGUE AT HER. AND, NOW SHE'LL LEARN TO BE JEALOUS. AND NOW SHE'LL LEARN HOW IT IS TO FEEL HURT INSIDE.
AND NOW SHE'LL LEARN HOW NOT TO CRY.
NO LONGER WILL SHE HAVE TIME TO SIT ON THE FRONT PORCH STEPS ON A SUMMER DAY AND WATCH AN ANT SCURRY ACROSS THE CRACK IN THE SIDEWALK. NOR WILL SHE HAVE TIME TO POP OUT OF BED WITH THE DAWN AND KISS LILAC BLOOMS IN THE MORNING DEW. NO, NOW SHE'LL WORRY ABOUT THOSE IMPORTANT THINGS LIKE GRADES AND WHICH DRESS TO WEAR AND WHOSE BEST FRIEND IS WHOSE. AND THE MAGIC OF BOOKS AND LEARNING WILL REPLACE THE MAGIC OF HER BLOCKS AND DOLLS.
AND NOW SHE'LL FIND NEW HEROES.
FOR FIVE FULL YEARS NOW I'VE BEEN HER SAGE AND SANTA CLAUS AND PAL AND PLAYMATE AND FATHER AND FRIEND. NOW SHE'LL LEARN TO SHARE HER WORSHIP WITH HER TEACHERS WHICH IS ONLY RIGHT.
BUT, NO LONGER WILL I BE THE SMARTEST, GREATEST MAN IN THE WHOLE WORLD. TODAY WHEN THAT SCHOOL BELL RINGS FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE'LL LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MEMBER OF THE GROUP WITH ALL ITS PRIVILEGES AND ITS DISADVANTAGES TOO.
SHE'LL LEARN IN TIME THAT PROPER YOUNG LADIES DO NOT LAUGH OUT LOUD OR KISS DOGS OR KEEP FROGS IN PICKLE JARS IN BEDROOMS OR EVEN WATCH ANTS SCURRY ACROSS CRACKS IN SIDEWALKS IN THE SUMMER.
TODAY SHE'LL LEARN FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT ALL WHO SMILE AT HER ARE NOT HER FRIENDS. AND I'LL STAND ON THE FRONT PORCH AND WATCH HER START OUT ON THE LONG, LONELY JOURNEY TO BECOMING A WOMAN.
SO, WORLD, I BEQUEATH TO YOU TODAY ONE LITTLE GIRL IN A CRISPY DRESS WITH TWO BLUE EYES AND A HAPPY LAUGH THAT RIPPLES ALL DAY LONG…AND A FLASH OF LIGHT BLOND HAIR THAT BOUNCES IN THE SUN WHEN SHE RUNS.
I TRUST YOU'LL TREAT HER WELL.
FOR PARENTS THE FIRST DAY THEIR GIRLS GO TO SCHOOL:
I TRUST YOU’LL TREAT HER WELL
DEAR WORLD,
I BEQUEATH TO YOU TODAY ONE LITTLE GIRL IN A CRISPY DRESS WITH TWO BLUE EYES AND A HAPPY LAUGH THAT RIPPLES ALL DAY LONG AND A FLASH OF LIGHT BLOND HAIR THAT BOUNCES IN THE SUN WHEN SHE RUNS. I TRUST YOU'LL TREAT HER WELL.
SHE'S SLIPPING OUT OF THE BACKYARD OF MY HEART THIS MORNING AND SKIPPING OFF DOWN THE STREET TO HER FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. AND NEVER AGAIN WILL SHE BE COMPLETELY MINE. PRIM AND PROUD SHE'LL WAVE HER YOUNG AND INDEPENDENT HAND THIS MORNING AND SAY "GOODBYE" AND WALK WITH LITTLE LADY STEPS TO THE SCHOOLHOUSE.
NOW SHE'LL LEARN TO STAND IN LINES AND WAIT BY THE ALPHABET FOR HER NAME TO BE CALLED. SHE'LL LEARN TO TUNE HER EARS FOR THE SOUNDS OF SCHOOL-BELLS AND DEADLINES AND SHE'LL LEARN TO GIGGLE AND GOSSIP AND LOOK AT THE CEILING IN A DISINTERESTED WAY WHEN THE LITTLE BOY 'CROSS THE AISLE STICKS OUT HIS TONGUE AT HER. AND, NOW SHE'LL LEARN TO BE JEALOUS. AND NOW SHE'LL LEARN HOW IT IS TO FEEL HURT INSIDE.
AND NOW SHE'LL LEARN HOW NOT TO CRY.
NO LONGER WILL SHE HAVE TIME TO SIT ON THE FRONT PORCH STEPS ON A SUMMER DAY AND WATCH AN ANT SCURRY ACROSS THE CRACK IN THE SIDEWALK. NOR WILL SHE HAVE TIME TO POP OUT OF BED WITH THE DAWN AND KISS LILAC BLOOMS IN THE MORNING DEW. NO, NOW SHE'LL WORRY ABOUT THOSE IMPORTANT THINGS LIKE GRADES AND WHICH DRESS TO WEAR AND WHOSE BEST FRIEND IS WHOSE. AND THE MAGIC OF BOOKS AND LEARNING WILL REPLACE THE MAGIC OF HER BLOCKS AND DOLLS.
AND NOW SHE'LL FIND NEW HEROES.
FOR FIVE FULL YEARS NOW I'VE BEEN HER SAGE AND SANTA CLAUS AND PAL AND PLAYMATE AND FATHER AND FRIEND. NOW SHE'LL LEARN TO SHARE HER WORSHIP WITH HER TEACHERS WHICH IS ONLY RIGHT.
BUT, NO LONGER WILL I BE THE SMARTEST, GREATEST MAN IN THE WHOLE WORLD. TODAY WHEN THAT SCHOOL BELL RINGS FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE'LL LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MEMBER OF THE GROUP WITH ALL ITS PRIVILEGES AND ITS DISADVANTAGES TOO.
SHE'LL LEARN IN TIME THAT PROPER YOUNG LADIES DO NOT LAUGH OUT LOUD OR KISS DOGS OR KEEP FROGS IN PICKLE JARS IN BEDROOMS OR EVEN WATCH ANTS SCURRY ACROSS CRACKS IN SIDEWALKS IN THE SUMMER.
TODAY SHE'LL LEARN FOR THE FIRST TIME THAT ALL WHO SMILE AT HER ARE NOT HER FRIENDS. AND I'LL STAND ON THE FRONT PORCH AND WATCH HER START OUT ON THE LONG, LONELY JOURNEY TO BECOMING A WOMAN.
SO, WORLD, I BEQUEATH TO YOU TODAY ONE LITTLE GIRL IN A CRISPY DRESS WITH TWO BLUE EYES AND A HAPPY LAUGH THAT RIPPLES ALL DAY LONG…AND A FLASH OF LIGHT BLOND HAIR THAT BOUNCES IN THE SUN WHEN SHE RUNS.
I TRUST YOU'LL TREAT HER WELL.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Pick of the week 8/24/07
Guilt and Grace
by Max Lucado
Sometime ago I read a story of a youngster who was shooting rocks with a slingshot. He could never hit his target. As he returned to Grandma's backyard, he spied her pet duck. On impulse he took aim and let fly. The stone hit, and the duck was dead. The boy panicked and hid the bird in the woodpile, only to look up and see his sister watching.
After lunch that day, Grandma told Sally to help with the dishes. Sally responded, "Johnny told me he wanted to help in the kitchen today. Didn't you Johnny?" And she whispered to him, "Remember the duck!" So, Johnny did the dishes.
What choice did he have? For the next several weeks he was at the sink often. Sometimes for his duty, sometimes for his sin. "Remember the duck," Sally'd whisper when he objected.
So weary of the chore, he decided that any punishment would be better than washing more dishes, so he confessed to killing the duck. "I know, Johnny," his grandma said, giving him a hug. "I was standing at the window and saw the whole thing. Because I love you, I forgave you. I wondered how long you would let Sally make a slave out of you." (Steven Cole, "Forgiveness," Leadership Magazine, 1983, 86.)
He'd been pardoned, but he thought he was guilty. Why? He had listened to the words of his accuser. You have been accused as well. You have been accused of dishonesty. You've been accused of immorality. You've been accused of greed, anger, and arrogance.
Every moment of your life, your accuser is filing charges against you. Even his name, Diabolos, means "slanderer." Who is he? The devil.
As he speaks, you hang your head. You have no defense. His charges are fair. "I plead guilty, your honor," you mumble.
"The sentence?" Satan asks.
"The wages of sin is death," explains the judge, "but in this case the death has already occurred. For this one died with Christ."
Satan is suddenly silent. And you are suddenly jubilant. You realize that Satan cannot accuse you. No one can accuse you! Fingers may point and voices may demand, but the charges glance off like arrows hitting a shield. No more dirty dishwater. No more penance. No more nagging sisters. You have stood before the judge and heard him declare, "Not guilty."
From In the Grip of Grace
Guilt and Grace
by Max Lucado
Sometime ago I read a story of a youngster who was shooting rocks with a slingshot. He could never hit his target. As he returned to Grandma's backyard, he spied her pet duck. On impulse he took aim and let fly. The stone hit, and the duck was dead. The boy panicked and hid the bird in the woodpile, only to look up and see his sister watching.
After lunch that day, Grandma told Sally to help with the dishes. Sally responded, "Johnny told me he wanted to help in the kitchen today. Didn't you Johnny?" And she whispered to him, "Remember the duck!" So, Johnny did the dishes.
What choice did he have? For the next several weeks he was at the sink often. Sometimes for his duty, sometimes for his sin. "Remember the duck," Sally'd whisper when he objected.
So weary of the chore, he decided that any punishment would be better than washing more dishes, so he confessed to killing the duck. "I know, Johnny," his grandma said, giving him a hug. "I was standing at the window and saw the whole thing. Because I love you, I forgave you. I wondered how long you would let Sally make a slave out of you." (Steven Cole, "Forgiveness," Leadership Magazine, 1983, 86.)
He'd been pardoned, but he thought he was guilty. Why? He had listened to the words of his accuser. You have been accused as well. You have been accused of dishonesty. You've been accused of immorality. You've been accused of greed, anger, and arrogance.
Every moment of your life, your accuser is filing charges against you. Even his name, Diabolos, means "slanderer." Who is he? The devil.
As he speaks, you hang your head. You have no defense. His charges are fair. "I plead guilty, your honor," you mumble.
"The sentence?" Satan asks.
"The wages of sin is death," explains the judge, "but in this case the death has already occurred. For this one died with Christ."
Satan is suddenly silent. And you are suddenly jubilant. You realize that Satan cannot accuse you. No one can accuse you! Fingers may point and voices may demand, but the charges glance off like arrows hitting a shield. No more dirty dishwater. No more penance. No more nagging sisters. You have stood before the judge and heard him declare, "Not guilty."
From In the Grip of Grace
Friday, August 17, 2007
Something to Ponder pick of the week
A true story comes from an incident which occurred during a business training seminar. To illustrate motivation, the trainer asked one of the business executives in the audience to come forward.
The trainer said, "I want you to imagine that I have placed a wooden beam across the floor here and I would like for you to walk from one end of the beam to the other end. Would you do that for $20?"
The man said that he would.
Then leader continued, "Now, I want you to imagine that I take that same beam and raise it up to the top of a forty-story building and run it across the street to another tall building. Would you still walk across the beam for $20?"
This time the man answered that he would not.
"How about for a $100?"
"No!" the man emphasized.
The trainer forged ahead. "You have a child, right?"
"Yes."
"This time, what if I were to hold your child over the edge of the building and tell you that if you do not walk across the beam I will drop your child. Would you walk across?"
Surprisingly, the father hesitated for a beat, then smiled and asked, "Which child do you have?"
The trainer, of course, was right in assuming that a parent's devotion to a child is usually greater than almost any amount of fear associated with saving that child. Most parents love their children fiercely and would do anything possible to help them.
Are you spending some Quality time with your children?
A true story comes from an incident which occurred during a business training seminar. To illustrate motivation, the trainer asked one of the business executives in the audience to come forward.
The trainer said, "I want you to imagine that I have placed a wooden beam across the floor here and I would like for you to walk from one end of the beam to the other end. Would you do that for $20?"
The man said that he would.
Then leader continued, "Now, I want you to imagine that I take that same beam and raise it up to the top of a forty-story building and run it across the street to another tall building. Would you still walk across the beam for $20?"
This time the man answered that he would not.
"How about for a $100?"
"No!" the man emphasized.
The trainer forged ahead. "You have a child, right?"
"Yes."
"This time, what if I were to hold your child over the edge of the building and tell you that if you do not walk across the beam I will drop your child. Would you walk across?"
Surprisingly, the father hesitated for a beat, then smiled and asked, "Which child do you have?"
The trainer, of course, was right in assuming that a parent's devotion to a child is usually greater than almost any amount of fear associated with saving that child. Most parents love their children fiercely and would do anything possible to help them.
Are you spending some Quality time with your children?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
August 15, 2007
The Parable of the Push-Ups
There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending school in Utah. Brother Christianson taught at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's class. Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over. One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"
Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."
Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"
Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."
"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?"
Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time."
"Do you think you could?" Again asked Brother Christianson.
"Well, I can try," said Steve.
"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.
Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it."
Brother Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."
Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Brother Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.
Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a donut?"
Cynthia said, "Yes."
Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?"
Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten.
Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk. Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you want a donut?"
Joe said, "Yes."
Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?" Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"
Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."
Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."
Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"
Steve started to do ten pushups. Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"
Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.
Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.
Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"
Jenny said, "No."
Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?" Steve did ten, Jenny got a donut.
By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved. Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely. Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row.
During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters located on the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.
Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.
Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"
Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups.. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.
A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!"
Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come in."
Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."
Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."
Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?"
"Yes."
"Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?" Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.
Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started among those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.
The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut? Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."
Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?"
Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda..
Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?" Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson, can I help him?"
Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone, Steve, would you do ten pushups so Susan can have a donut?"
As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.
Brother Christianson turned to the room and said.
"And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit." With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died - even for those that didn't want His gift. And just like some of those in this room, many choose not to accept the gift that was provided for them.
The Parable of the Push-Ups
There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending school in Utah. Brother Christianson taught at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's class. Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over. One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"
Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."
Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"
Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."
"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?"
Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time."
"Do you think you could?" Again asked Brother Christianson.
"Well, I can try," said Steve.
"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.
Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it."
Brother Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."
Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Brother Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.
Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a donut?"
Cynthia said, "Yes."
Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?"
Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten.
Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk. Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you want a donut?"
Joe said, "Yes."
Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?" Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"
Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."
Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."
Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"
Steve started to do ten pushups. Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"
Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.
Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.
Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"
Jenny said, "No."
Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?" Steve did ten, Jenny got a donut.
By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved. Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely. Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row.
During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters located on the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.
Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.
Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"
Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups.. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.
A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!"
Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come in."
Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."
Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."
Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?"
"Yes."
"Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?" Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.
Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started among those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.
The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut? Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."
Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?"
Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda..
Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?" Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson, can I help him?"
Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone, Steve, would you do ten pushups so Susan can have a donut?"
As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.
Brother Christianson turned to the room and said.
"And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit." With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died - even for those that didn't want His gift. And just like some of those in this room, many choose not to accept the gift that was provided for them.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Thursday August 9, 2007
It's The Most,,,,Wonderful Time...of the Year!!!!
No, not Christmas........Fantasy Football baby!!! (Grunt, Grunt, Grunt)
Once again it's time to draft your team wisely, try your best to get LT and then talk smack to the rest of the people who will finish beneath you! All in Christian Love of course.
The big question is........Can You Handle the WBFJ Fantasy Football League? All are invited........many will play........1 will win!
To get in on the fun I need you send me an email where I can send you the "official" invite. My email address is darren@wbfj.fm
Act quickly......the league will be created this weekend and the invites will go out next week.
Later,
Darren
It's The Most,,,,Wonderful Time...of the Year!!!!
No, not Christmas........Fantasy Football baby!!! (Grunt, Grunt, Grunt)
Once again it's time to draft your team wisely, try your best to get LT and then talk smack to the rest of the people who will finish beneath you! All in Christian Love of course.
The big question is........Can You Handle the WBFJ Fantasy Football League? All are invited........many will play........1 will win!
To get in on the fun I need you send me an email where I can send you the "official" invite. My email address is darren@wbfj.fm
Act quickly......the league will be created this weekend and the invites will go out next week.
Later,
Darren
Thursday August 9, 2007
STUART HAMBLIN
Back in the 50's there was a well known radio
host/comedian/song writer in Hollywood named
Stuart Hamblin who was noted for his drinking,
womanizing, partying, etc.
One of his bigger hits at the time was
"I won't go hunting with you Jake,
but I'll go chasing women."
One day, along came a young preacher holding
a tent revival. Hamblin had him on his radio show
presumably to poke fun at him.
In order to gather more material for his show,
Hamblin showed up at one of the revival meetings.
Early in the service the preacher announced,
"There is one man in this audience who is a big fake."
There were probably others who thought the same thing,
but Hamblin was convinced that he was the one the preacher
was talking about (some would call that conviction)
but he was having none of that.
Still the words continued to haunt him until a couple
of nights later he showed up drunk at the preacher's
hotel door around 2AM demanding that the preacher
pray for him!
But the preacher refused, saying, "This is between you and God
and I'm not going to get in the middle of it."
But he did invite Stuart in and they talked until
about 5 AM at which point Stuart dropped to his
knees and with tears, cried out to God.
But that is not the end of the story.
Stuart quit drinking, quit chasing women,
quit everything that was 'fun.' Soon he began
to lose favor with the Hollywood crowd.
He was ultimately fired by the radio station when
he refused to accept a beer company as a sponsor.
Hard times were upon him. He tried writing a couple
of "Christian" songs but the only one that had
much success was "This Old House",
written for his friend Rosemary Clooney.
As he continued to struggle, a long time friend
named John took him aside and told him,
"All your troubles started when you 'got religion,'
Was it worth it all?"
Stuart answered simply, "Yes."
Then his friend asked, "You liked your booze so much,
don't you ever miss it?" And his answer was,
"No." John then said, "I don't understand how
you could give it up so easily."
And Stuart's response was, "It's no big secret.
All things are possible with God."
To this John said, "That's a catchy phrase.
You should write a song about it."
And as they say, "The rest is history."
The song Stuart wrote was "It Is No Secret."
"It is no secret what God can do.
What He's done for others, He'll do for you.
With arms wide open, He'll welcome you.
It is no secret, what God can do ..."
By the way ... the friend was John Wayne.
And the young preacher who refused to pray for Stuart Hamblen?
... That was Billy Graham.
STUART HAMBLIN
Back in the 50's there was a well known radio
host/comedian/song writer in Hollywood named
Stuart Hamblin who was noted for his drinking,
womanizing, partying, etc.
One of his bigger hits at the time was
"I won't go hunting with you Jake,
but I'll go chasing women."
One day, along came a young preacher holding
a tent revival. Hamblin had him on his radio show
presumably to poke fun at him.
In order to gather more material for his show,
Hamblin showed up at one of the revival meetings.
Early in the service the preacher announced,
"There is one man in this audience who is a big fake."
There were probably others who thought the same thing,
but Hamblin was convinced that he was the one the preacher
was talking about (some would call that conviction)
but he was having none of that.
Still the words continued to haunt him until a couple
of nights later he showed up drunk at the preacher's
hotel door around 2AM demanding that the preacher
pray for him!
But the preacher refused, saying, "This is between you and God
and I'm not going to get in the middle of it."
But he did invite Stuart in and they talked until
about 5 AM at which point Stuart dropped to his
knees and with tears, cried out to God.
But that is not the end of the story.
Stuart quit drinking, quit chasing women,
quit everything that was 'fun.' Soon he began
to lose favor with the Hollywood crowd.
He was ultimately fired by the radio station when
he refused to accept a beer company as a sponsor.
Hard times were upon him. He tried writing a couple
of "Christian" songs but the only one that had
much success was "This Old House",
written for his friend Rosemary Clooney.
As he continued to struggle, a long time friend
named John took him aside and told him,
"All your troubles started when you 'got religion,'
Was it worth it all?"
Stuart answered simply, "Yes."
Then his friend asked, "You liked your booze so much,
don't you ever miss it?" And his answer was,
"No." John then said, "I don't understand how
you could give it up so easily."
And Stuart's response was, "It's no big secret.
All things are possible with God."
To this John said, "That's a catchy phrase.
You should write a song about it."
And as they say, "The rest is history."
The song Stuart wrote was "It Is No Secret."
"It is no secret what God can do.
What He's done for others, He'll do for you.
With arms wide open, He'll welcome you.
It is no secret, what God can do ..."
By the way ... the friend was John Wayne.
And the young preacher who refused to pray for Stuart Hamblen?
... That was Billy Graham.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Monday August 6, 2007
Fractured Dictionary
Arbitrator \ar'-bi-tray-ter\: A cook that leaves Arby's to work at McDonald's.
Avoidable \uh-voy'-duh-buhl\: What a bullfighter tries to do.
Baloney \buh-lo'-nee\: Where some hemlines fall.
Bernadette \burn'-a-det\: The act of torching a mortgage.
Burglarize \bur'-gler-ize\: What a crook sees with.
Control \kon-trol'\: A short, ugly inmate.
Counterfeiters \kown-ter-fit-ers\: Workers who put together kitchen cabinets.
Eclipse \i-klips'\: what an English barber does for a living.
Eyedropper \i'-drop-ur\: a clumsy ophthalmologist.
Heroes \hee'-rhos\: what a guy in a boat does.
Left Bank \left' bangk'\: what the robber did when his bag was full of loot.
Misty \mis'-tee\: How some golfers create divots.
Paradox \par'-uh-doks\: two physicians.
Parasites \par'-uh-sites\: what you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Pharmacist \farm'-uh-sist\: a helper on the farm.
Polarize \po'-lur-ize\: what penguins see with.
Primate \pri'-mat\: removing your spouse from in front of the TV.
Relief \ree-leef'\: what trees do in the spring.
Rubberneck \rub'-er-nek\: what you do to relax your wife.
Seamstress \seem'-stres\: describes 250 pounds in a size six.
Selfish \sel'-fish\: what the owner of a seafood store does.
Subdued \sub-dood'\: like, a guy, like, works on one of those, like, submarines, man.
Sudafed \sood'-a-fed\: bringing litigation against a government.
Fractured Dictionary
Arbitrator \ar'-bi-tray-ter\: A cook that leaves Arby's to work at McDonald's.
Avoidable \uh-voy'-duh-buhl\: What a bullfighter tries to do.
Baloney \buh-lo'-nee\: Where some hemlines fall.
Bernadette \burn'-a-det\: The act of torching a mortgage.
Burglarize \bur'-gler-ize\: What a crook sees with.
Control \kon-trol'\: A short, ugly inmate.
Counterfeiters \kown-ter-fit-ers\: Workers who put together kitchen cabinets.
Eclipse \i-klips'\: what an English barber does for a living.
Eyedropper \i'-drop-ur\: a clumsy ophthalmologist.
Heroes \hee'-rhos\: what a guy in a boat does.
Left Bank \left' bangk'\: what the robber did when his bag was full of loot.
Misty \mis'-tee\: How some golfers create divots.
Paradox \par'-uh-doks\: two physicians.
Parasites \par'-uh-sites\: what you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Pharmacist \farm'-uh-sist\: a helper on the farm.
Polarize \po'-lur-ize\: what penguins see with.
Primate \pri'-mat\: removing your spouse from in front of the TV.
Relief \ree-leef'\: what trees do in the spring.
Rubberneck \rub'-er-nek\: what you do to relax your wife.
Seamstress \seem'-stres\: describes 250 pounds in a size six.
Selfish \sel'-fish\: what the owner of a seafood store does.
Subdued \sub-dood'\: like, a guy, like, works on one of those, like, submarines, man.
Sudafed \sood'-a-fed\: bringing litigation against a government.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Ponder of the Week 8/3/07
The Old Fisherman
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see an awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought, as I looked at his shriveled body. His face was lopsided from swelling, as well as red and raw. Yet his voice was nice as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus till morning."
He said he'd been hunting for a room since noon, without any success. No one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor tells me with a few more treatments ..." For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me. "I could sleep in the rocking chair on the porch, he said. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch.
I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag. When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take long to see this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body.
He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five kids, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that he had no pain from his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.
At bedtime, I put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a big favor, he said, "Could I please come stay here the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind." I said he was welcome to come again.
On his next trip the fisherman came a little after seven that morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 A.M., and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do that for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he made, the gifts were doubly precious.
When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. Oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. Our family always will be grateful to have known him -- from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God;for OUR blessings.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful flower of all; a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"
My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this flower would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden."
She may have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."
This all happened a long time ago -- and now, in God's garden, how "tall" this lovely soul must stand. Lets ALL see the contents, not the container.
The Old Fisherman
Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the clinic. One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see an awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought, as I looked at his shriveled body. His face was lopsided from swelling, as well as red and raw. Yet his voice was nice as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus till morning."
He said he'd been hunting for a room since noon, without any success. No one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face... I know it looks terrible, but my doctor tells me with a few more treatments ..." For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me. "I could sleep in the rocking chair on the porch, he said. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch.
I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag. When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take long to see this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body.
He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five kids, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that he had no pain from his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.
At bedtime, I put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a big favor, he said, "Could I please come stay here the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind." I said he was welcome to come again.
On his next trip the fisherman came a little after seven that morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 A.M., and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do that for us.
In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he made, the gifts were doubly precious.
When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. Oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. Our family always will be grateful to have known him -- from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God;for OUR blessings.
Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful flower of all; a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"
My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this flower would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden."
She may have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."
This all happened a long time ago -- and now, in God's garden, how "tall" this lovely soul must stand. Lets ALL see the contents, not the container.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
July 25, 2007
Nevertheless…
by Max Lucado
And the king and his men… spoke to David, saying, “You shall not come in here; but the blind and the lame will repel you,” …Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion (that is, the City of David). - 2 Sam. 5:6–7
Did you see it? Most hurry past it. Let’s not. Pull out a pen and underline this twelve-letter masterpiece.
Nevertheless.
“Nevertheless David took the stronghold…”
Wouldn’t you love God to write a nevertheless in your biography? Born to alcoholics, nevertheless she led a sober life. Never went to college, nevertheless he mastered a trade. Didn’t read the Bible until retirement age, nevertheless he came to a deep and abiding faith.
We all need a nevertheless. And God has plenty to go around. Strongholds mean nothing to him. Remember Paul’s words? “We use God’s mighty weapons, not mere worldly weapons, to knock down the Devil’s strongholds” (2 Cor. 10:4 NLT).
You and I fight with toothpicks; God comes with battering rams and cannons. What he did for David, he can do for us. The question is, will we do what David did? The king models much here.
Two types of thoughts continually vie for your attention. One proclaims God’s strengths; the other lists your failures. One longs to build you up; the other seeks to tear you down. And here’s the great news: you select the voice you hear. Why listen to the mockers? Why heed their voices? Why give ear to pea-brains and scoffers when you can, with the same ear, listen to the voice of God?
Do what David did.
Turn a deaf ear to the old voices.
Open a wide eye to the new choices.
Who knows, you may be a prayer away from a nevertheless. God loves to give them.
Peter stuck his foot in his mouth.
Joseph was imprisoned in Egypt.
The Samaritan woman had been married five times.
Jesus was dead in the grave …
Nevertheless, Peter preached, Joseph ruled, the woman shared, Jesus rose ??? and you?
You fill in the blank. Your nevertheless awaits you.
From Facing Your Giants
Copyright (W Publishing Group, 2006) Max Lucado
Nevertheless…
by Max Lucado
And the king and his men… spoke to David, saying, “You shall not come in here; but the blind and the lame will repel you,” …Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion (that is, the City of David). - 2 Sam. 5:6–7
Did you see it? Most hurry past it. Let’s not. Pull out a pen and underline this twelve-letter masterpiece.
Nevertheless.
“Nevertheless David took the stronghold…”
Wouldn’t you love God to write a nevertheless in your biography? Born to alcoholics, nevertheless she led a sober life. Never went to college, nevertheless he mastered a trade. Didn’t read the Bible until retirement age, nevertheless he came to a deep and abiding faith.
We all need a nevertheless. And God has plenty to go around. Strongholds mean nothing to him. Remember Paul’s words? “We use God’s mighty weapons, not mere worldly weapons, to knock down the Devil’s strongholds” (2 Cor. 10:4 NLT).
You and I fight with toothpicks; God comes with battering rams and cannons. What he did for David, he can do for us. The question is, will we do what David did? The king models much here.
Two types of thoughts continually vie for your attention. One proclaims God’s strengths; the other lists your failures. One longs to build you up; the other seeks to tear you down. And here’s the great news: you select the voice you hear. Why listen to the mockers? Why heed their voices? Why give ear to pea-brains and scoffers when you can, with the same ear, listen to the voice of God?
Do what David did.
Turn a deaf ear to the old voices.
Open a wide eye to the new choices.
Who knows, you may be a prayer away from a nevertheless. God loves to give them.
Peter stuck his foot in his mouth.
Joseph was imprisoned in Egypt.
The Samaritan woman had been married five times.
Jesus was dead in the grave …
Nevertheless, Peter preached, Joseph ruled, the woman shared, Jesus rose ??? and you?
You fill in the blank. Your nevertheless awaits you.
From Facing Your Giants
Copyright (W Publishing Group, 2006) Max Lucado
Friday, July 20, 2007
Ponder of the week for July 20, 2007
Frank Riddick's Bicycles
Clinton, KY -- When Frank Riddick was growing up on a farm in western Tennessee, having a bicycle seemed as remote a possibility as owning a new car. One of six children, he always had plenty to eat and wear, but there wasn't much left for luxuries.
Remembering those childhood longings, two years ago he decided to provide bicycles to youngsters whose families couldn't afford to buy them one for Christmas.
To initiate the effort, he turned to the county mission house. Supported by various churches, the Clinton-based ministry provides food and clothing to low-income residents of the area.
In October, he posted a sign there reading, "If your child doesn't have a bike and wants one, see me or Lula Bell (Puckett, the director)."
"I gave a few bikes away and told children if it broke down or they had a flat to call me," said Riddick, who retired from farming in 1995. "I didn't dream anything like this would happen."
What happened is a Christmas tale to touch the hardest of Scrooges. After buying 40 new bicycles and placing a classified ad seeking used ones, word quickly circulated. Donations of bikes started pouring in to his farm three miles north of town.
To date he has given away nearly 200 and has 100 more in his workshop. Each carries a license plate reading, "Jesus Loves You."
But he didn't stop with free bikes. Riddick gave the children his heart.
Although he had built a 1.5-acre playground on his farm for his grandchildren, three of the five now live out of state. After getting acquainted with youngsters in the community, he invited them out to the homemade attraction.
It includes a cable ride the length of a football field, with capacity for four riders; a 50-foot-high tree swing and a 61-foot slide. The latter is more than four times the length of conventional slides.
Among other features is a merry-go-round-like device that holds three small children. A group of high school seniors took pictures of the cable ride for their photo albums and some children have said they enjoy it as much as the old Opryland amusement park.
"It's a joy to know the Lord had in mind for these needy kids to come out," he said. "A lot of these children I'm dealing with are below poverty level. They live in bad environments, some are mistreated and, without the mission house, most would be without clothes.
"I'm sure every community has children like this, but I didn't know how bad it was until I started doing this," he noted.
Riddick's involvement also led him to buy a 15-passenger van. Though he uses it to shuttle children to Team Kid, he primarily got it to bring them to the playground.
Looking back, the member of First Baptist Church of Clinton appreciates how God spared his life three times. In the past decade he survived a bout with kidney cancer, getting electrocuted by a 7,200-volt power line, and a brain tumor that doctors thought was cancerous but turned out to be stress-related.
Still, he doesn't want any acclaim for what he does, saying the glory belongs to God.
"I cannot say I had a vision to do this," he said. "I had a longing in my heart. I constantly feel a need to help the needy in our community. I can look back and see how everything happening was directed by God. I just didn't have enough spiritual knowledge to know it."
What could you do to be a "Frank Riddick" in your hometown?
Frank Riddick's Bicycles
Clinton, KY -- When Frank Riddick was growing up on a farm in western Tennessee, having a bicycle seemed as remote a possibility as owning a new car. One of six children, he always had plenty to eat and wear, but there wasn't much left for luxuries.
Remembering those childhood longings, two years ago he decided to provide bicycles to youngsters whose families couldn't afford to buy them one for Christmas.
To initiate the effort, he turned to the county mission house. Supported by various churches, the Clinton-based ministry provides food and clothing to low-income residents of the area.
In October, he posted a sign there reading, "If your child doesn't have a bike and wants one, see me or Lula Bell (Puckett, the director)."
"I gave a few bikes away and told children if it broke down or they had a flat to call me," said Riddick, who retired from farming in 1995. "I didn't dream anything like this would happen."
What happened is a Christmas tale to touch the hardest of Scrooges. After buying 40 new bicycles and placing a classified ad seeking used ones, word quickly circulated. Donations of bikes started pouring in to his farm three miles north of town.
To date he has given away nearly 200 and has 100 more in his workshop. Each carries a license plate reading, "Jesus Loves You."
But he didn't stop with free bikes. Riddick gave the children his heart.
Although he had built a 1.5-acre playground on his farm for his grandchildren, three of the five now live out of state. After getting acquainted with youngsters in the community, he invited them out to the homemade attraction.
It includes a cable ride the length of a football field, with capacity for four riders; a 50-foot-high tree swing and a 61-foot slide. The latter is more than four times the length of conventional slides.
Among other features is a merry-go-round-like device that holds three small children. A group of high school seniors took pictures of the cable ride for their photo albums and some children have said they enjoy it as much as the old Opryland amusement park.
"It's a joy to know the Lord had in mind for these needy kids to come out," he said. "A lot of these children I'm dealing with are below poverty level. They live in bad environments, some are mistreated and, without the mission house, most would be without clothes.
"I'm sure every community has children like this, but I didn't know how bad it was until I started doing this," he noted.
Riddick's involvement also led him to buy a 15-passenger van. Though he uses it to shuttle children to Team Kid, he primarily got it to bring them to the playground.
Looking back, the member of First Baptist Church of Clinton appreciates how God spared his life three times. In the past decade he survived a bout with kidney cancer, getting electrocuted by a 7,200-volt power line, and a brain tumor that doctors thought was cancerous but turned out to be stress-related.
Still, he doesn't want any acclaim for what he does, saying the glory belongs to God.
"I cannot say I had a vision to do this," he said. "I had a longing in my heart. I constantly feel a need to help the needy in our community. I can look back and see how everything happening was directed by God. I just didn't have enough spiritual knowledge to know it."
What could you do to be a "Frank Riddick" in your hometown?
July 20, 2007
Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community.
The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma
complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71. Doughboy was
buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay
their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California
Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave
site was piled high with flours. Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and
lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded.
Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with
turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his
dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times he still
was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.
Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, two children, John Dough and Jane Dough,
plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father,
Pop Tart.
The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.
Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community.
The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma
complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71. Doughboy was
buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay
their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California
Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave
site was piled high with flours. Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and
lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded.
Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with
turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his
dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times he still
was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.
Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, two children, John Dough and Jane Dough,
plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father,
Pop Tart.
The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.
Friday, July 06, 2007
July 6, 2007 Ponder of the Week
Mom's Last Laugh
Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew I sitting on. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense, I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.
When Mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor.
"What now, Lord?" I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child.
All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle.
"I'm late," he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, "Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret'? "0h" "Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her 'Mary,' "I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway? "No, that isn't correct," he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, "Her name is Mary, Mary Peters." "That isn't who this is, I replied." "Isn't this the Lutheran church?" "No, the Lutheran church is across the street." "Oh." "I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir."
The solemnest of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing. At the final "Amen," we darted out a door and into the parking lot.
"I do believe we'll be the talk of the town," he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee. That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor.
This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary.
Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, "Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's truly a match made in heaven."
Mom's Last Laugh
Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew I sitting on. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense, I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.
When Mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor.
"What now, Lord?" I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child.
All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle.
"I'm late," he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, "Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret'? "0h" "Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her 'Mary,' "I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway? "No, that isn't correct," he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, "Her name is Mary, Mary Peters." "That isn't who this is, I replied." "Isn't this the Lutheran church?" "No, the Lutheran church is across the street." "Oh." "I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir."
The solemnest of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing. At the final "Amen," we darted out a door and into the parking lot.
"I do believe we'll be the talk of the town," he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee. That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor.
This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary.
Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, "Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's truly a match made in heaven."
Friday, June 29, 2007
June 29, 2007
Why God Created Pets
A newly discovered chapter in the Book of Genesis has provided the answer to "Where do pets come from?" Adam said, "Lord, when I was in the garden, you walked with me everyday. Now I do not see you anymore. I am lonesome here and it is difficult for me to remember how much you love me." And God said, "No problem! I will create a companion for you that will be with you forever and who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do, in spite of yourself." And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam. And it was a good animal. And God was pleased.
And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam and he wagged his tail. And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the Kingdom and I cannot think of a name for this new animal." And God said, "No problem! Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG." And Dog lived with Adam and was a companion to him and loved him. And Adam was comforted. And God was pleased. And Dog was content and wagged his tail.
After a while, it came to pass that Adam's guardian angel came to the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts and preens like a peacock and he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught him that he is loved, but perhaps too well." And the Lord said, "No problem! I will create for him a companion who will be with him forever and who will see him as he is. The companion will remind him of his limitations, so he will know that he is not always worthy of adoration." And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam. And Cat would not obey Adam. And when Adam gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that he was not the supreme being. And Adam learned humility. And God was pleased. And Adam was greatly improved. And Dog was happy. And the Cat didn't give a hoot one way or the other.
Why God Created Pets
A newly discovered chapter in the Book of Genesis has provided the answer to "Where do pets come from?" Adam said, "Lord, when I was in the garden, you walked with me everyday. Now I do not see you anymore. I am lonesome here and it is difficult for me to remember how much you love me." And God said, "No problem! I will create a companion for you that will be with you forever and who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do, in spite of yourself." And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam. And it was a good animal. And God was pleased.
And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam and he wagged his tail. And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the Kingdom and I cannot think of a name for this new animal." And God said, "No problem! Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG." And Dog lived with Adam and was a companion to him and loved him. And Adam was comforted. And God was pleased. And Dog was content and wagged his tail.
After a while, it came to pass that Adam's guardian angel came to the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts and preens like a peacock and he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught him that he is loved, but perhaps too well." And the Lord said, "No problem! I will create for him a companion who will be with him forever and who will see him as he is. The companion will remind him of his limitations, so he will know that he is not always worthy of adoration." And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam. And Cat would not obey Adam. And when Adam gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that he was not the supreme being. And Adam learned humility. And God was pleased. And Adam was greatly improved. And Dog was happy. And the Cat didn't give a hoot one way or the other.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
June 28, 2007
The Birth Order Of Children
Your Clothes:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.
Preparing for the Birth:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.
The Layette:
1st baby: You pre-wash newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?
Worries:
1st baby: At the first sign of distress--a whimper, a frown--you pick up the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when his/her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.
Pacifier:
1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it.
2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle.
3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.
Diapering:
1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it or not.
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.
Activities:
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.
Going Out:
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.
At Home:
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.
Swallowing Coins:
1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!!
Pass this on to everyone you know who has children... or everyone who KNOWS someone who has had children... (the older the mother, the funnier this is !)
GRANDCHILDREN: ...God's reward for allowing your children to live.
The Birth Order Of Children
Your Clothes:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.
Preparing for the Birth:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.
The Layette:
1st baby: You pre-wash newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?
Worries:
1st baby: At the first sign of distress--a whimper, a frown--you pick up the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when his/her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.
Pacifier:
1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it.
2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle.
3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.
Diapering:
1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it or not.
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.
Activities:
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.
Going Out:
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.
At Home:
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.
Swallowing Coins:
1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!!
Pass this on to everyone you know who has children... or everyone who KNOWS someone who has had children... (the older the mother, the funnier this is !)
GRANDCHILDREN: ...God's reward for allowing your children to live.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
June 21, 2007
Little Piece
A fourteenth-century Italian stained-glass artist was summoned to design and create a huge portrait for the window of a cathedral in Chartres, France, a place well known for its stained-glass work. He laid all of the pieces he was going to use out on the floor of the cathedral. They were beautiful to behold; most of them were large and colorful. Some of the colors from that time cannot even be reproduced today. Among these awesome pieces of glass was a small, clear piece about as big as your fingernail. As the stained-glass portrait was assembled, that little piece remained on the floor. Only the big colorful pieces of glass were used.
On the day of the window's completion, the little piece of clear glass was still lying on the ground. The entire city gathered to witness the unveiling of the brilliant and beautiful stained-glass portrait. The artist stood in front of the crowd, made his speech, and dramatically pulled down the cloth cover. The crowd gasped at the beauty of the colorful window glowing in the sunlight.
After a few seconds, however, the crowd grew silent. They sensed that something was missing, that the portrait was unfinished. The great artist then walked over to where the little clear piece of glass lay, picked it up, and placed it in the portrait, right in the center of Jesus' eye. As the sun hit that little piece, it gave off a dazzling sparkle.
The magnificent stained glass window still draws visitors. The first thing they see is that sparkle in Jesus' eye.
Do you ever feel like that little piece of clear glass? Left out. Untalented. A disappointment. You doubt you can ever do anything for God. Let the story of that last little piece remind you that God thinks of you as the apple of his eye (Psalm 17:8). No matter that in your eyes you don't measure up to others; you are important to God. That is why He sent His Son Jesus to die for you.
Remember: For with God, nothing shall be impossible. (Luke 1:37)
Little Piece
A fourteenth-century Italian stained-glass artist was summoned to design and create a huge portrait for the window of a cathedral in Chartres, France, a place well known for its stained-glass work. He laid all of the pieces he was going to use out on the floor of the cathedral. They were beautiful to behold; most of them were large and colorful. Some of the colors from that time cannot even be reproduced today. Among these awesome pieces of glass was a small, clear piece about as big as your fingernail. As the stained-glass portrait was assembled, that little piece remained on the floor. Only the big colorful pieces of glass were used.
On the day of the window's completion, the little piece of clear glass was still lying on the ground. The entire city gathered to witness the unveiling of the brilliant and beautiful stained-glass portrait. The artist stood in front of the crowd, made his speech, and dramatically pulled down the cloth cover. The crowd gasped at the beauty of the colorful window glowing in the sunlight.
After a few seconds, however, the crowd grew silent. They sensed that something was missing, that the portrait was unfinished. The great artist then walked over to where the little clear piece of glass lay, picked it up, and placed it in the portrait, right in the center of Jesus' eye. As the sun hit that little piece, it gave off a dazzling sparkle.
The magnificent stained glass window still draws visitors. The first thing they see is that sparkle in Jesus' eye.
Do you ever feel like that little piece of clear glass? Left out. Untalented. A disappointment. You doubt you can ever do anything for God. Let the story of that last little piece remind you that God thinks of you as the apple of his eye (Psalm 17:8). No matter that in your eyes you don't measure up to others; you are important to God. That is why He sent His Son Jesus to die for you.
Remember: For with God, nothing shall be impossible. (Luke 1:37)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
June 20, 2007
A Little Girls Prayer
Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her in Africa.
"One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator. (We had no electricity to run an incubator.) We also had no special feeding facilities.
Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.
As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.
"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. "Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon."
While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?"
As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas -- that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the.... could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out -- yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle!
I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"
Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months before -- in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."
"Before they call, I will answer!" Isa 65:24
A Little Girls Prayer
Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her in Africa.
"One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator. (We had no electricity to run an incubator.) We also had no special feeding facilities.
Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.
As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.
"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts. "Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon."
While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary, "And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?"
As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas -- that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the.... could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out -- yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle!
I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"
Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child -- five months before -- in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."
"Before they call, I will answer!" Isa 65:24
Monday, June 18, 2007
Creating Fathers
When the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. A female angel nearby said, "What kind of father is that? If you're going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won't be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping.
And God smiled and said, "Yes, but if I make him childsize, who would children have to look up to?"
And when God made a father's hands, they were large and sinewy. The angel shook her head sadly and said, "Large hands are clumsy. They can't manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on ponytails or even remove splinters caused by sticks used as baseball bats."
And God smiled and said, "I know, but they're large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day, yet small enough to cup a child's face."
And then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders. The angel nearly had a heart attack. "Boy, this is the end of the week, all right," she clucked. "Do you realize you just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?"
And God smiled and said, "A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus."
God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. "That's not fair. Do you honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?"
And God smiled and said, "They'll work. You'll see. They'll support a small child who wants to ride a horse to Banbury Cross or scare off mice at the summer cabin or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill."
God worked on, giving the father few words but a firm, authoritive voice and eyes that saw everything but remained calm and tolerant. Finally, almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said, "Now, are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?"
The angel shutteth up ....
This originally appeared in a newspaper column by Erma Bombeck. She was a well-known humorist and author. She died April 22, 1996 in San Francisco, California.
When the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. A female angel nearby said, "What kind of father is that? If you're going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won't be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping.
And God smiled and said, "Yes, but if I make him childsize, who would children have to look up to?"
And when God made a father's hands, they were large and sinewy. The angel shook her head sadly and said, "Large hands are clumsy. They can't manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on ponytails or even remove splinters caused by sticks used as baseball bats."
And God smiled and said, "I know, but they're large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day, yet small enough to cup a child's face."
And then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders. The angel nearly had a heart attack. "Boy, this is the end of the week, all right," she clucked. "Do you realize you just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?"
And God smiled and said, "A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus."
God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. "That's not fair. Do you honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?"
And God smiled and said, "They'll work. You'll see. They'll support a small child who wants to ride a horse to Banbury Cross or scare off mice at the summer cabin or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill."
God worked on, giving the father few words but a firm, authoritive voice and eyes that saw everything but remained calm and tolerant. Finally, almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said, "Now, are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?"
The angel shutteth up ....
This originally appeared in a newspaper column by Erma Bombeck. She was a well-known humorist and author. She died April 22, 1996 in San Francisco, California.
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