November 7, 2006
Connect the Dots
As children we all played with those "connect the dots" puzzles. We would trace along the numbers from 1 to 2 to 3 ...until suddenly a picture appeared. It always amazed me that when it was just a page of hapless numbers, I was unable to see what it was meant to be and even as I traced along through the numbers, the meaning of the picture often remained a mystery until the end. The odd thing is, once the picture appeared, it was easy to see the outline and I would wonder why I hadn't been able to guess it earlier.
Life is a lot like a "connect the dots" puzzle. The direction of our life takes many turns, changing jobs leading to new relationships, lessons learned from bad choices guiding us towards inward reflection, one casual decision moves us toward an unsuspecting detour, while our purpose in life remains unclear to us. And as we trace along more and more "dots" in our life, what appeared as random events, fall together with profound meaning. We begin to glimpse our direction and what once was a puzzle to us suddenly becomes clear.
Maybe it is part of a bigger plan, maybe it is hindsight, but what was once the big mistake we thought we'd regret forever becomes the lesson that taught us compassion, the cherished friendships carefully nurtured over the years holds us close when crisis strikes, and the unsuspecting detour leads us safely toward home.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Friday, November 03, 2006
COUNT YOUR SATURDAYS
Author Unknown
The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the
quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's
the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first
few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a steaming cup
of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a
typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life
seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it:
I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham
Radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came
across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice.
You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting
business. He was telling whom-ever he was talking with something about "a thousand
marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say.
"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure
They pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your
family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or
seventy hours a week to make ends meet. It's too bad you missed your
daughter's "dance recital" he continued. "Let me tell you something that has
helped me keep my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of
a "thousand marbles."
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average
person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some
live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years. "Now then, I
multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900, which is the number of Saturdays
that the averageperson has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, Tom, I'm
getting to the important part.
It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in
any detail", he went on, "and by that time I had lived through overtwenty-eight
hundred Saturdays." "I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five,
I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and
bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to
round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large, clear plastic
container right here in the shack next to my gear."
"Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it
away. I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really
important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this
earth run out to help get your priorities straight." "Now let me tell you one last
thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This
morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make
it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing
we can all use is a little more time."
"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and
I hope to meet you again here on the band. This is a 75 Year old Man, K9NZQ, clear
and going QRT, good morning!" You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this
fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about I had planned to work
on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work
on the next club newsletter.. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a
kiss. "C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast." "What brought this
on?" she asked with a smile. "Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since
we spent a Saturday together with the kids. And hey , can we stop at a toy store
while we're out?
I need to buy some marbles...
Author Unknown
The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the
quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's
the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first
few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a steaming cup
of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a
typical Saturday morning turned into one of those lessons that life
seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it:
I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham
Radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came
across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice.
You know the kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting
business. He was telling whom-ever he was talking with something about "a thousand
marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say.
"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure
They pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your
family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or
seventy hours a week to make ends meet. It's too bad you missed your
daughter's "dance recital" he continued. "Let me tell you something that has
helped me keep my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of
a "thousand marbles."
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average
person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some
live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years. "Now then, I
multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900, which is the number of Saturdays
that the averageperson has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me, Tom, I'm
getting to the important part.
It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in
any detail", he went on, "and by that time I had lived through overtwenty-eight
hundred Saturdays." "I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five,
I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and
bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to
round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside a large, clear plastic
container right here in the shack next to my gear."
"Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it
away. I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really
important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this
earth run out to help get your priorities straight." "Now let me tell you one last
thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This
morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure that if I make
it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing
we can all use is a little more time."
"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and
I hope to meet you again here on the band. This is a 75 Year old Man, K9NZQ, clear
and going QRT, good morning!" You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this
fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about I had planned to work
on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work
on the next club newsletter.. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a
kiss. "C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast." "What brought this
on?" she asked with a smile. "Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since
we spent a Saturday together with the kids. And hey , can we stop at a toy store
while we're out?
I need to buy some marbles...
Thursday, October 26, 2006
October 26, 2006
Jack tossed the papers on my desk -- his eyebrows knit into a straight line as he glared at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He jabbed a finger at the proposal. "Next time you want to change anything, ask me first," he said, turning on his heels and leaving me stewing in anger.
How dare he treat me like that, I thought. I had changed one long sentence, and corrected grammar -- something I thought I was paid to do.
It's not that I hadn't been warned. The other women, who had served in my place before me, called him names I couldn't repeat. One co-worker took me aside the first day. "He's personally responsible for two different secretaries leaving the firm," she whispered.
As the weeks went by, I grew to despise Jack. It was against everything I believed in -- turn the other cheek and love your enemies. But Jack quickly slapped a verbal insult on any cheek turned his way. I prayed about it, but to be honest, I wanted to put him in his place, not love him.
One day, another of his episodes left me in tears. I stormed into his office, prepared to lose my job if needed, but not before I let the man know how I felt. I opened the door and Jack glanced up.
"What?" he said abruptly.
Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After all, he deserved it.
I sat across from him. "Jack, the way you've been treating me is wrong. I've never had anyone speak to me that way. As a professional, it's wrong, and it's wrong for me to allow it to continue," I said.
Jack snickered nervously and leaned back in his chair. I closed my eyes briefly. God help me, I prayed.
"I want to make you a promise. I will be a friend," I said. "I will treat you as you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness. You deserve that," I said. "Everybody does." I slipped out of the chair and closed the door behind me.
Jack avoided me the rest of the week. Proposals, specs, and letters appeared on my desk while I was at lunch, and the corrected versions were not seen again. I brought cookies to the office one day and left a batch on Jack's desk. Another day I left a note. "Hope your day is going great," it read.
Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there were no other episodes. Co-workers cornered me in the break room.
"Guess you got to Jack," they said. "You must have told him off good." I shook my head.
"Jack and I are becoming friends," I said in faith. I refused to talk about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him.
After all, that's what friends do.
One year after our "talk", I discovered I had breast cancer. I was 32, the mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer had metastasized to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for long-term survival. After surgery, I visited with friends and loved ones who tried to find the right words to say. No one knew what to say. Many said the wrong things . Others wept, and I tried to encourage them. I clung to hope.
The last day of my hospital stay, the door darkened and Jack stood awkwardly on the threshold. I waved him in with a smile and he walked over to my bed and, without a word, placed a bundle beside me. Inside lay several bulbs.
"Tulips," he said.
I smiled, not understanding.
He cleared his throat. "If you plant them when you get home, they'll come up next spring." He shuffled his feet. "I just wanted you to know that I think you'll be there to see them when they come up."
Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Jack grasped my hand and gruffly replied, "You're welcome. You can't see it now, but next spring you'll see the colors I picked out for you." He turned and left without a word.
I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil every spring for over ten years now. In fact, this September the doctor will declare me cured. I've seen my children graduate from high school and enter college.
In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few words said all the right things.
After all, that's what friends do.
Jack tossed the papers on my desk -- his eyebrows knit into a straight line as he glared at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He jabbed a finger at the proposal. "Next time you want to change anything, ask me first," he said, turning on his heels and leaving me stewing in anger.
How dare he treat me like that, I thought. I had changed one long sentence, and corrected grammar -- something I thought I was paid to do.
It's not that I hadn't been warned. The other women, who had served in my place before me, called him names I couldn't repeat. One co-worker took me aside the first day. "He's personally responsible for two different secretaries leaving the firm," she whispered.
As the weeks went by, I grew to despise Jack. It was against everything I believed in -- turn the other cheek and love your enemies. But Jack quickly slapped a verbal insult on any cheek turned his way. I prayed about it, but to be honest, I wanted to put him in his place, not love him.
One day, another of his episodes left me in tears. I stormed into his office, prepared to lose my job if needed, but not before I let the man know how I felt. I opened the door and Jack glanced up.
"What?" he said abruptly.
Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After all, he deserved it.
I sat across from him. "Jack, the way you've been treating me is wrong. I've never had anyone speak to me that way. As a professional, it's wrong, and it's wrong for me to allow it to continue," I said.
Jack snickered nervously and leaned back in his chair. I closed my eyes briefly. God help me, I prayed.
"I want to make you a promise. I will be a friend," I said. "I will treat you as you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness. You deserve that," I said. "Everybody does." I slipped out of the chair and closed the door behind me.
Jack avoided me the rest of the week. Proposals, specs, and letters appeared on my desk while I was at lunch, and the corrected versions were not seen again. I brought cookies to the office one day and left a batch on Jack's desk. Another day I left a note. "Hope your day is going great," it read.
Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there were no other episodes. Co-workers cornered me in the break room.
"Guess you got to Jack," they said. "You must have told him off good." I shook my head.
"Jack and I are becoming friends," I said in faith. I refused to talk about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him.
After all, that's what friends do.
One year after our "talk", I discovered I had breast cancer. I was 32, the mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer had metastasized to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for long-term survival. After surgery, I visited with friends and loved ones who tried to find the right words to say. No one knew what to say. Many said the wrong things . Others wept, and I tried to encourage them. I clung to hope.
The last day of my hospital stay, the door darkened and Jack stood awkwardly on the threshold. I waved him in with a smile and he walked over to my bed and, without a word, placed a bundle beside me. Inside lay several bulbs.
"Tulips," he said.
I smiled, not understanding.
He cleared his throat. "If you plant them when you get home, they'll come up next spring." He shuffled his feet. "I just wanted you to know that I think you'll be there to see them when they come up."
Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Jack grasped my hand and gruffly replied, "You're welcome. You can't see it now, but next spring you'll see the colors I picked out for you." He turned and left without a word.
I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil every spring for over ten years now. In fact, this September the doctor will declare me cured. I've seen my children graduate from high school and enter college.
In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few words said all the right things.
After all, that's what friends do.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
October 24, 2006
Two Days We Should Not Worry
by: Author Unknown
There are two days in every week about which we should not worry,
two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.
One of these days is Yesterday with all its mistakes and cares,
its faults and blunders, its aches and pains.
Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control.
All the money in the world cannot bring back Yesterday.
We cannot undo a single act we performed;
we cannot erase a single word we said.
Yesterday is gone forever.
The other day we should not worry about is Tomorrow
with all its possible adversities, its burdens,
its large promise and its poor performance;
Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.
Tomorrow's sun will rise,
either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise.
Until it does, we have no stake in Tomorrow,
for it is yet to be born.
This leaves only one day, Today.
Any person can fight the battle of just one day.
It is when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternities
Yesterday and Tomorrow that we break down.
It is not the experience of Today that drives a person mad,
it is the remorse or bitterness of something which happened Yesterday and the dread of what Tomorrow may bring.
Let us, therefore, Live but one day at a time.
Two Days We Should Not Worry
by: Author Unknown
There are two days in every week about which we should not worry,
two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.
One of these days is Yesterday with all its mistakes and cares,
its faults and blunders, its aches and pains.
Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control.
All the money in the world cannot bring back Yesterday.
We cannot undo a single act we performed;
we cannot erase a single word we said.
Yesterday is gone forever.
The other day we should not worry about is Tomorrow
with all its possible adversities, its burdens,
its large promise and its poor performance;
Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.
Tomorrow's sun will rise,
either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise.
Until it does, we have no stake in Tomorrow,
for it is yet to be born.
This leaves only one day, Today.
Any person can fight the battle of just one day.
It is when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternities
Yesterday and Tomorrow that we break down.
It is not the experience of Today that drives a person mad,
it is the remorse or bitterness of something which happened Yesterday and the dread of what Tomorrow may bring.
Let us, therefore, Live but one day at a time.
Monday, October 23, 2006
October 23, 2006
My family and I recently attended a Sweet 15. In the Hispanic culture, it is more traditionally know as a Quinceanera. I wanted to share with you some special moments that I witnessed that day.
I saw a moment during the church service, a mother's true love for her daughter. Mom stood up and shared some special thoughts of what she described as her strong-willed daughter. As she began to speak, her voice began to shake. She spoke with pure conviction of the bond they shared with one another. Everyone in the church began to feel the true love they had for one another. If mom had only kept talking, I believe all the parents, especially the moms in attendance would have been in tears.
There was another moment, one that made me believe of a daddy's love for his little girl. This took place at the reception. You need to first paint a picture in your mind of how special it must be for a father to dance his last dance, if you will, with his little girl.
The young girl looked especially beautiful that day, almost magical in her long white dress. Her cheeks looked like roses and her blue eyes like flowers. The curls in her hair bounced as she walked in the room. You could see her sparkle as she walked along to the middle of the dance floor. She looked like Cinderella and daddy like Prince Charmin standing there holding her hand.
"The Dance" by Garth Brooks began to play and the magic unfolded as they held each other and began to dance. As the dad held his young daughter, they looked like they were dancing on air. Her dress swayed from side to side as he held her tight. How special this must have felt to be in her daddy's arms that night.
The song finally came to an end and it was time for daddy to let go…but he couldn't. He stood there big and strong, as his body began to shake, and then broke down as he began to cry. It was a very special moment. Here was this giant of a man, towering over his young child, but yet with the innocence of a baby he fought hard to hold back his tears. He held his little girl by her arms as he leaned over and gave her a big kiss on her forehead. He embraced her as he wiped the tears streaming down his face.
As I stood there watching all this happen, I felt a big lump in my throat and I quickly began to share his pain. It made me sad but yet, at the same time, it made me happy. This is what it was all about. Daddy had always been there for his little girl.
As Garth Brooks sang his last note, I could feel dad "looking back on the times he shared" just like the song was saying. Daddy kissed her again and then his little girl turned and walked away.
Hug you children everyday and tell them you love them. Time stands still for no one. One day you'll be looking back and your memories will seem nothing more than a dream.
My family and I recently attended a Sweet 15. In the Hispanic culture, it is more traditionally know as a Quinceanera. I wanted to share with you some special moments that I witnessed that day.
I saw a moment during the church service, a mother's true love for her daughter. Mom stood up and shared some special thoughts of what she described as her strong-willed daughter. As she began to speak, her voice began to shake. She spoke with pure conviction of the bond they shared with one another. Everyone in the church began to feel the true love they had for one another. If mom had only kept talking, I believe all the parents, especially the moms in attendance would have been in tears.
There was another moment, one that made me believe of a daddy's love for his little girl. This took place at the reception. You need to first paint a picture in your mind of how special it must be for a father to dance his last dance, if you will, with his little girl.
The young girl looked especially beautiful that day, almost magical in her long white dress. Her cheeks looked like roses and her blue eyes like flowers. The curls in her hair bounced as she walked in the room. You could see her sparkle as she walked along to the middle of the dance floor. She looked like Cinderella and daddy like Prince Charmin standing there holding her hand.
"The Dance" by Garth Brooks began to play and the magic unfolded as they held each other and began to dance. As the dad held his young daughter, they looked like they were dancing on air. Her dress swayed from side to side as he held her tight. How special this must have felt to be in her daddy's arms that night.
The song finally came to an end and it was time for daddy to let go…but he couldn't. He stood there big and strong, as his body began to shake, and then broke down as he began to cry. It was a very special moment. Here was this giant of a man, towering over his young child, but yet with the innocence of a baby he fought hard to hold back his tears. He held his little girl by her arms as he leaned over and gave her a big kiss on her forehead. He embraced her as he wiped the tears streaming down his face.
As I stood there watching all this happen, I felt a big lump in my throat and I quickly began to share his pain. It made me sad but yet, at the same time, it made me happy. This is what it was all about. Daddy had always been there for his little girl.
As Garth Brooks sang his last note, I could feel dad "looking back on the times he shared" just like the song was saying. Daddy kissed her again and then his little girl turned and walked away.
Hug you children everyday and tell them you love them. Time stands still for no one. One day you'll be looking back and your memories will seem nothing more than a dream.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
October 19, 2006
Sitting on Your Talent
There was a man played piano in a bar. He was a good piano player. People came out just to hear him play. But one night, a patron told him he didn't want to hear him just play anymore. He wanted him to sing a song.
The man said, "I don't sing."
But the customer was persistent. He told the bartender, "I'm tired of listening to the piano. I want that guy to sing!"
The bartender shouted across the room, "Hey buddy! If you want to get paid, sing a song. The patrons are asking you to sing!"
So he did. He sang a song. A piano player who had never sung in public did so for the very first time. And nobody had ever heard the song Mona, Mona Lisa sung the way it was sung that night by Nat King Cole!
He had talent he was sitting on! He may have lived the rest of his life as a no-name piano player in a no-name bar, but because he had to sing, he went on to become one of the best-known entertainers in America.
You, too, have skills and abilities. You may not feel as if your "talent" is particularly great, but it may be better than you think! And with persistence, most skills can be improved. Besides, you may as well have no ability at all if you sit on whatever talent you possess! The better question is not "What ability do I have that is useful?" It is rather "How will I use whatever ability I have?"
Sitting on Your Talent
There was a man played piano in a bar. He was a good piano player. People came out just to hear him play. But one night, a patron told him he didn't want to hear him just play anymore. He wanted him to sing a song.
The man said, "I don't sing."
But the customer was persistent. He told the bartender, "I'm tired of listening to the piano. I want that guy to sing!"
The bartender shouted across the room, "Hey buddy! If you want to get paid, sing a song. The patrons are asking you to sing!"
So he did. He sang a song. A piano player who had never sung in public did so for the very first time. And nobody had ever heard the song Mona, Mona Lisa sung the way it was sung that night by Nat King Cole!
He had talent he was sitting on! He may have lived the rest of his life as a no-name piano player in a no-name bar, but because he had to sing, he went on to become one of the best-known entertainers in America.
You, too, have skills and abilities. You may not feel as if your "talent" is particularly great, but it may be better than you think! And with persistence, most skills can be improved. Besides, you may as well have no ability at all if you sit on whatever talent you possess! The better question is not "What ability do I have that is useful?" It is rather "How will I use whatever ability I have?"
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
October 17, 2006
My dad comes in my office this morning filled with frustration over the problems of the world, the lack of compassion, the hunger, the death, the cruelty, the government. I tried my best to use good Christian reasoning... that this life is just a drop in the bucket, that eternity is what its all about. Well he got frustrated and said that from that perspective this world is nothing but an incubator, and if that's all it is that cheapens this life too much.
At first I got frustrated, but after I started thinking about it, I love the analogy, and not just because my wife is pregnant.
an incubator, something that warms the baby chicks until they are ready to emerge to life.
an incubator. a womb.
a womb is dark…it's cramped.
in a womb you depend on an umbilical cord for nourishment, and you can't control how much or what you get
your body is very fragile and has extreme limitations
you don't understand what's going on
you think you are completely alone
you can hear, but don't know what is being said
all you know is this strange confined world you live in
you don't know why the world keeps rolling over in the middle of the night and spinning you over,
why you keep getting poked, but for the most part you are comfortable and happy with your existence.
but then your short time in the incubator comes to a horrific end
birth is as a traumatic and painful experience as it gets for both mother and child.
the pain, the crying, the goo, the screaming
you are squeezed out of everything you knew and ripped from what gave you life.
your nourishment is cut off.
but then...
then what comes next is beyond your wildest imagination!
you find out you weren't alone
you see the light
you understand the voices
you are brought to life!
and through all this the dad looks on proudly.
you see he picked the mom... the deliverer, if you will
and along with that mom he made you.
so this life is an incubator
where we develop and grow...
....and get ready for life
born again. huh, how about that!
My dad comes in my office this morning filled with frustration over the problems of the world, the lack of compassion, the hunger, the death, the cruelty, the government. I tried my best to use good Christian reasoning... that this life is just a drop in the bucket, that eternity is what its all about. Well he got frustrated and said that from that perspective this world is nothing but an incubator, and if that's all it is that cheapens this life too much.
At first I got frustrated, but after I started thinking about it, I love the analogy, and not just because my wife is pregnant.
an incubator, something that warms the baby chicks until they are ready to emerge to life.
an incubator. a womb.
a womb is dark…it's cramped.
in a womb you depend on an umbilical cord for nourishment, and you can't control how much or what you get
your body is very fragile and has extreme limitations
you don't understand what's going on
you think you are completely alone
you can hear, but don't know what is being said
all you know is this strange confined world you live in
you don't know why the world keeps rolling over in the middle of the night and spinning you over,
why you keep getting poked, but for the most part you are comfortable and happy with your existence.
but then your short time in the incubator comes to a horrific end
birth is as a traumatic and painful experience as it gets for both mother and child.
the pain, the crying, the goo, the screaming
you are squeezed out of everything you knew and ripped from what gave you life.
your nourishment is cut off.
but then...
then what comes next is beyond your wildest imagination!
you find out you weren't alone
you see the light
you understand the voices
you are brought to life!
and through all this the dad looks on proudly.
you see he picked the mom... the deliverer, if you will
and along with that mom he made you.
so this life is an incubator
where we develop and grow...
....and get ready for life
born again. huh, how about that!
Friday, October 13, 2006
October 12, 2006
A Story of Two Seas
by: S. Wasserman, Jewish Magazine
Visited Israel? If you did, then you know that Israel has two lakes. The one up in the North is the Kinneret, also known as the sea of Galilee, because it is up in the area called the Galilee. From this lake comes most of the water in the tiny state. The ancient city of Tiberias, located on its shores, is today a flourishing city. Here the delicious St. Peter's fish is caught by the local fishermen and prized as a delicacy.
From the Kinneret, the water is purified and pumped into large pipelines that bring the life-giving water to the towns and cities all over the country. From the Kinneret, the Jordan river winds it's way down to the Dead Sea. It is much smaller now than in the times of the Bible, but still enough to give life and green to the plants all along it's path.
The second of Israel's lakes is the Dead Sea. The dead sea is an area of desolation. Even though the sweet waters of the Jordan flow into it, yet the salty mineral water is too heavy to be diluted. No plants grow around the banks of the dead sea, and no fish or plant life exist in the heavily salty waters. The salt concentrate is not like that of the average oceans of the world. It is so great that when a bather walks into the water, at a point approximately at his chest, the dense water lifts him up and he will float. Indeed no one is able to swim in the water. The salt and mineral content is so great that it burns the eyes and any open wound. After being in the water, a bather must wash to cleanse himself from the salt and mineral residue.
What a contrast! Compare the life-giving water of the Kinneret in the North to the deathly parched area around the Dead Sea.
Yet we are told that this is similar to two basic types of people: There is the giver, the person who gives generously whether of his time or his money. And there is the taker, the person who only takes, and any giving on his part is only in his own self interest, to promote more taking. The giver, gives, and life grows around him. The taker only takes and death is around him, nothing sprouts.
Yes, there are contributory rivers that flow into the Kinneret, but their waters are not kept there, but distributed to other needy sources. The giver is the sustainer of life.
The Dead Sea is located in the lowest part of Israel and one of the lowest parts of the world. The Dead Sea keeps all of it's water to itself. Similarly, the taker, only takes and keeps it only for himself. No one else benefits from him. Nothing is lower that this.
Even from the geography of the Holy Land of Israel, we learn deep lessons on how to conduct our lives. Let's be a giver. Let's concern ourselves with the other person. Remember, even smiling at the next person is an act of giving. Let's go beyond our needs and see what we can do to help the next person.
A Story of Two Seas
by: S. Wasserman, Jewish Magazine
Visited Israel? If you did, then you know that Israel has two lakes. The one up in the North is the Kinneret, also known as the sea of Galilee, because it is up in the area called the Galilee. From this lake comes most of the water in the tiny state. The ancient city of Tiberias, located on its shores, is today a flourishing city. Here the delicious St. Peter's fish is caught by the local fishermen and prized as a delicacy.
From the Kinneret, the water is purified and pumped into large pipelines that bring the life-giving water to the towns and cities all over the country. From the Kinneret, the Jordan river winds it's way down to the Dead Sea. It is much smaller now than in the times of the Bible, but still enough to give life and green to the plants all along it's path.
The second of Israel's lakes is the Dead Sea. The dead sea is an area of desolation. Even though the sweet waters of the Jordan flow into it, yet the salty mineral water is too heavy to be diluted. No plants grow around the banks of the dead sea, and no fish or plant life exist in the heavily salty waters. The salt concentrate is not like that of the average oceans of the world. It is so great that when a bather walks into the water, at a point approximately at his chest, the dense water lifts him up and he will float. Indeed no one is able to swim in the water. The salt and mineral content is so great that it burns the eyes and any open wound. After being in the water, a bather must wash to cleanse himself from the salt and mineral residue.
What a contrast! Compare the life-giving water of the Kinneret in the North to the deathly parched area around the Dead Sea.
Yet we are told that this is similar to two basic types of people: There is the giver, the person who gives generously whether of his time or his money. And there is the taker, the person who only takes, and any giving on his part is only in his own self interest, to promote more taking. The giver, gives, and life grows around him. The taker only takes and death is around him, nothing sprouts.
Yes, there are contributory rivers that flow into the Kinneret, but their waters are not kept there, but distributed to other needy sources. The giver is the sustainer of life.
The Dead Sea is located in the lowest part of Israel and one of the lowest parts of the world. The Dead Sea keeps all of it's water to itself. Similarly, the taker, only takes and keeps it only for himself. No one else benefits from him. Nothing is lower that this.
Even from the geography of the Holy Land of Israel, we learn deep lessons on how to conduct our lives. Let's be a giver. Let's concern ourselves with the other person. Remember, even smiling at the next person is an act of giving. Let's go beyond our needs and see what we can do to help the next person.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
October 11, 2006
I have been humbled and even a bit shamed by the amazing grace of the Amish victims in Pennsylvania. The actions of the Amish faithful this weekend again caused me to stop and examine my own commitment to Christ. Here is an excerpt from a column written by Brian Dickerson in the Detroit Free Press.
"Charles Roberts IV, who killed himself after shooting 10 helpless schoolgirls, wasn't Amish himself. But his milk delivery route included the farms of many Amish families, including that of 13-year-old Marian Fisher, one of those killed in Roberts' rampage. So when the Fisher family made plans for Marian's funeral, they naturally invited her killer's widow and children. It wasn't an impulsive invitation, issued in a moment of vengeful anger -- Come see what that monster did! -- but a reflexive recognition that Roberts' survivors, too, were part of a community in need of healing. Two days later, when the shooter's body was laid to rest, the mourners included dozens of Amish."
I know some dismiss the Amish response as weakness. I think you could not be more wrong. Their actions reflect a strength that is incomprehensible. It takes no strength to hate. It takes incredible strength to forgive. The Amish have made a choice. They made a choice to totally commit to Christ and to one another. They made a choice to not let hate and bitterness consume them. They made a choice to reach out and show a doubting world what the love of Jesus looks like. I am ashamed when I examine my life by comparison. No more jokes about the Amish from me. The Amish may feel free to make jokes about me. I have a lot to learn about what it really means to follow Jesus.
My final question for you to "Ponder" is for self-examination.
Jesus, am I really willing and ready to follow You?
I have been humbled and even a bit shamed by the amazing grace of the Amish victims in Pennsylvania. The actions of the Amish faithful this weekend again caused me to stop and examine my own commitment to Christ. Here is an excerpt from a column written by Brian Dickerson in the Detroit Free Press.
"Charles Roberts IV, who killed himself after shooting 10 helpless schoolgirls, wasn't Amish himself. But his milk delivery route included the farms of many Amish families, including that of 13-year-old Marian Fisher, one of those killed in Roberts' rampage. So when the Fisher family made plans for Marian's funeral, they naturally invited her killer's widow and children. It wasn't an impulsive invitation, issued in a moment of vengeful anger -- Come see what that monster did! -- but a reflexive recognition that Roberts' survivors, too, were part of a community in need of healing. Two days later, when the shooter's body was laid to rest, the mourners included dozens of Amish."
I know some dismiss the Amish response as weakness. I think you could not be more wrong. Their actions reflect a strength that is incomprehensible. It takes no strength to hate. It takes incredible strength to forgive. The Amish have made a choice. They made a choice to totally commit to Christ and to one another. They made a choice to not let hate and bitterness consume them. They made a choice to reach out and show a doubting world what the love of Jesus looks like. I am ashamed when I examine my life by comparison. No more jokes about the Amish from me. The Amish may feel free to make jokes about me. I have a lot to learn about what it really means to follow Jesus.
My final question for you to "Ponder" is for self-examination.
Jesus, am I really willing and ready to follow You?
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
October 10, 2006
What Are You Doing God?
When I was little, my mother used to sew a great deal. I would sit at her knee and look up from the floor and ask what she was doing. She informed me that she was embroidering. As from the underside I watched her work within the boundaries of the little round hoop that she held in her hand. I complained to her that it sure looked messy from where I sat.
She would smile at me, look down and gently say, "Son, you go about your playing for a while, and when I am finished with my embroidering, I will put you on my knee and let you see it from my side.
I would wonder why she was using some dark thread along with the bright ones and why they seemed so jumbled from my view. A few minutes would pass and then I would hear Mother's voice say, "Son, come and sit on my knee."
Then Mother would say to me, "My son, from underneath it did look messy and jumbled, but you did not realize that there was a plan on the top. It was a design. I was only following it. Now look at it from my side and you will see what I was doing."
Many times through the years I have looked up to heaven and said, "Father, what are You doing?" He has answered, "I am embroidering your life."
I say, "But it looks like a mess to me. It seems so jumbled. The threads seem so dark. Why can't they all be bright?"
The Father seems to tell me, "My child, you go about your business of doing My business, and one day I will bring you to Heaven and put you on My knee and you will see the plan from My side.
What Are You Doing God?
When I was little, my mother used to sew a great deal. I would sit at her knee and look up from the floor and ask what she was doing. She informed me that she was embroidering. As from the underside I watched her work within the boundaries of the little round hoop that she held in her hand. I complained to her that it sure looked messy from where I sat.
She would smile at me, look down and gently say, "Son, you go about your playing for a while, and when I am finished with my embroidering, I will put you on my knee and let you see it from my side.
I would wonder why she was using some dark thread along with the bright ones and why they seemed so jumbled from my view. A few minutes would pass and then I would hear Mother's voice say, "Son, come and sit on my knee."
Then Mother would say to me, "My son, from underneath it did look messy and jumbled, but you did not realize that there was a plan on the top. It was a design. I was only following it. Now look at it from my side and you will see what I was doing."
Many times through the years I have looked up to heaven and said, "Father, what are You doing?" He has answered, "I am embroidering your life."
I say, "But it looks like a mess to me. It seems so jumbled. The threads seem so dark. Why can't they all be bright?"
The Father seems to tell me, "My child, you go about your business of doing My business, and one day I will bring you to Heaven and put you on My knee and you will see the plan from My side.
Monday, October 09, 2006
October 9, 2006
Mikey's Goal
by: Kim Kane, A 6th Bowl of the Chicken Soup for the Soul
Last night was the last game for my eight-year-old son's soccer team. It was the final quarter. The score was two to one, my son's team in the lead. Parents encircled the field, offering encouragement.
With less than ten seconds remaining, the ball rolled in front of my son's teammate, one Mikey O'Donnel. With shouts of "Kick it!" echoing across the field, Mikey reared back and gave it everything he had. All round me the crowd erupted. O'Donnel had scored!
Then there was silence. Mikey had scored all right, but in the wrong goal, ending the game in a tie. For a moment there was total hush. You see, Mikey has Down's syndrome and for him there is no such thing as a wrong goal. All goals were celebrated by a joyous hug from Mikey. He had even been known to hug the opposing players when they scored.
The silence was finally broken when Mikey, his face filled with joy, grabbed my son, hugged him and yelled, "I scored! I scored. Everybody won! Everybody won!" For a moment I held my breath, not sure how my son would react. I need not have worried. I watched, through tears, as my son threw up his hand in the classic high-five salute and started chanting, "Way to go Mikey! Way to go Mikey!" Within moments both teams surrounded Mikey, joining in the chant and congratulating him on his goal.
Later that night, when my daughter asked who had won, I smiled as I replied, "It was a tie. Everybody won."
Mikey's Goal
by: Kim Kane, A 6th Bowl of the Chicken Soup for the Soul
Last night was the last game for my eight-year-old son's soccer team. It was the final quarter. The score was two to one, my son's team in the lead. Parents encircled the field, offering encouragement.
With less than ten seconds remaining, the ball rolled in front of my son's teammate, one Mikey O'Donnel. With shouts of "Kick it!" echoing across the field, Mikey reared back and gave it everything he had. All round me the crowd erupted. O'Donnel had scored!
Then there was silence. Mikey had scored all right, but in the wrong goal, ending the game in a tie. For a moment there was total hush. You see, Mikey has Down's syndrome and for him there is no such thing as a wrong goal. All goals were celebrated by a joyous hug from Mikey. He had even been known to hug the opposing players when they scored.
The silence was finally broken when Mikey, his face filled with joy, grabbed my son, hugged him and yelled, "I scored! I scored. Everybody won! Everybody won!" For a moment I held my breath, not sure how my son would react. I need not have worried. I watched, through tears, as my son threw up his hand in the classic high-five salute and started chanting, "Way to go Mikey! Way to go Mikey!" Within moments both teams surrounded Mikey, joining in the chant and congratulating him on his goal.
Later that night, when my daughter asked who had won, I smiled as I replied, "It was a tie. Everybody won."
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
September 27, 2006
“Facing the Giants”
Last night I had the pleasure of viewing a brand new movie entitled “Facing the Giants.” I can honestly say that I walked out of that theater differently than when I went it. Upon leaving I overheard one teenager say rather sadly…”there wasn’t as much football as I thought..” and his mom said the same thing but more so in a shocked tone. You see every thing that we face in life…..we go at it with a pre-conceived notion of what it will be like.
See if these ring a bell with you…….” I’m running so late, why do I always get caught in the traffic jam?” try asking that to the person in traffic and late for work on September 11th. or how bout this one….” At the age of 35, going from a high school teacher to major league pitcher? Sound impossible? Ask Jimmy Morris who had his remarkable life story made into a movie by Disney called “The Rookie.” Speaking of the impossible, May 12th this year we started the final days of our share-a-thon so far from our goal that it seemed impossible to reach.
You see, we often look at the Giants in our life as unbeatable….but God tells us in Matthew 19:26 “But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, with men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible." What Giant is troubling you today? Unemployment, Financial troubles, Pregnancy, your marriage, co-worker or Boss, school?? Let me offer a quote from Facing the Giants that really resonated with me……”When we win….we Praise Him, and when we lose…..we Praise Him.” If we give God our best and do what’s pleasing and honoring to Him, what’s impossible?
No matter how big the giant you are facing, remember: Nothing is too difficult for God. “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”
“Facing the Giants”
Last night I had the pleasure of viewing a brand new movie entitled “Facing the Giants.” I can honestly say that I walked out of that theater differently than when I went it. Upon leaving I overheard one teenager say rather sadly…”there wasn’t as much football as I thought..” and his mom said the same thing but more so in a shocked tone. You see every thing that we face in life…..we go at it with a pre-conceived notion of what it will be like.
See if these ring a bell with you…….” I’m running so late, why do I always get caught in the traffic jam?” try asking that to the person in traffic and late for work on September 11th. or how bout this one….” At the age of 35, going from a high school teacher to major league pitcher? Sound impossible? Ask Jimmy Morris who had his remarkable life story made into a movie by Disney called “The Rookie.” Speaking of the impossible, May 12th this year we started the final days of our share-a-thon so far from our goal that it seemed impossible to reach.
You see, we often look at the Giants in our life as unbeatable….but God tells us in Matthew 19:26 “But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, with men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible." What Giant is troubling you today? Unemployment, Financial troubles, Pregnancy, your marriage, co-worker or Boss, school?? Let me offer a quote from Facing the Giants that really resonated with me……”When we win….we Praise Him, and when we lose…..we Praise Him.” If we give God our best and do what’s pleasing and honoring to Him, what’s impossible?
No matter how big the giant you are facing, remember: Nothing is too difficult for God. “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”
Monday, September 25, 2006
September 25, 2006
Kay Poe and Esther Kim have been best friends since they were seven years old. Among other things they have in common, the two young ladies from Houston both compete at the highest levels in taekwondo. How good are they? Esther and Kay advanced to the finals in the Women's Olympic Flyweight division at the 2000 U.S. Olympic Team Trials on May 20 in Colorado Springs.
"I don't think of her as just a friend. I think of her more as a sister," Kay says. "We've grown up together, and we always push each other and help each other out the best we can training wise." What a story was unfolding! Reporters and photographers were poised to record the outcome of so intense a competition between two girls who have been close for so long. But a sports story would soon be overshadowed by a far more important friendship story.
Kay had dislocated her left kneecap in her semi-final match of the round robin tournament. Though ranked number one in the world at her sport, it was questionable that she could compete against her best friend. She could barely stand, so it was a foregone conclusion that Esther would win, travel to the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney, and represent the United States in the international competition these two had trained and worked toward for so long.
On the day of the match, Esther Kim shocked the crowd by forfeiting rather than defeat her friend in an unfair competition. In allowing the better taekwondo fighter to represent the United States in Sydney, she won a personal battle over ego and selfishness. Amidst frequent stories of cheating and taking unfair advantage in order to win at any price, Esther showed how to win by losing.
"Even though I didn't have the gold medal around me," said Esther, "for the first time in my life, I felt like a real champion." Her generosity of spirit was honored with the Citizenship Through Sports Award and with an all-expenses-paid trip to the 2000 Olympic Games from the International Olympic Committee.
In the Bible, Paul wrote about giving up certain "rights" for the sake of people he loved (see 1 Corinthians 9:1-15). Parents do it all the time for their children. And occasionally friends make magnanimous gestures like Esther's.
The next time you are inclined to bemoan the selfishness of the masses, recall this story of a twenty-year-old athlete's largess. The next time you have the chance to show magnanimity, let it inspire you to rise to the level of her example.
Kay Poe and Esther Kim have been best friends since they were seven years old. Among other things they have in common, the two young ladies from Houston both compete at the highest levels in taekwondo. How good are they? Esther and Kay advanced to the finals in the Women's Olympic Flyweight division at the 2000 U.S. Olympic Team Trials on May 20 in Colorado Springs.
"I don't think of her as just a friend. I think of her more as a sister," Kay says. "We've grown up together, and we always push each other and help each other out the best we can training wise." What a story was unfolding! Reporters and photographers were poised to record the outcome of so intense a competition between two girls who have been close for so long. But a sports story would soon be overshadowed by a far more important friendship story.
Kay had dislocated her left kneecap in her semi-final match of the round robin tournament. Though ranked number one in the world at her sport, it was questionable that she could compete against her best friend. She could barely stand, so it was a foregone conclusion that Esther would win, travel to the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney, and represent the United States in the international competition these two had trained and worked toward for so long.
On the day of the match, Esther Kim shocked the crowd by forfeiting rather than defeat her friend in an unfair competition. In allowing the better taekwondo fighter to represent the United States in Sydney, she won a personal battle over ego and selfishness. Amidst frequent stories of cheating and taking unfair advantage in order to win at any price, Esther showed how to win by losing.
"Even though I didn't have the gold medal around me," said Esther, "for the first time in my life, I felt like a real champion." Her generosity of spirit was honored with the Citizenship Through Sports Award and with an all-expenses-paid trip to the 2000 Olympic Games from the International Olympic Committee.
In the Bible, Paul wrote about giving up certain "rights" for the sake of people he loved (see 1 Corinthians 9:1-15). Parents do it all the time for their children. And occasionally friends make magnanimous gestures like Esther's.
The next time you are inclined to bemoan the selfishness of the masses, recall this story of a twenty-year-old athlete's largess. The next time you have the chance to show magnanimity, let it inspire you to rise to the level of her example.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
September 21, 2006
Every Woman is Beautiful
A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?" "Because I'm a woman", she told him. "I don't understand", he said. His mum just hugged him and said, "And you never will"..
Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?" "All women cry for no reason" was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God; when God got on the phone, the man said, "God, why women cry so easily?"
God said, "When I made women she had to be special. I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world; yet, gentle enough to give comfort.
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times come from her children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt them very badly.
This same sensitivity helps her make a child's boo boo feel better and shares in their teenagers' anxieties and fears.
I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly.
And finally I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed. The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides."
Every woman is beautiful.
Every Woman is Beautiful
A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?" "Because I'm a woman", she told him. "I don't understand", he said. His mum just hugged him and said, "And you never will"..
Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?" "All women cry for no reason" was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God; when God got on the phone, the man said, "God, why women cry so easily?"
God said, "When I made women she had to be special. I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world; yet, gentle enough to give comfort.
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times come from her children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt them very badly.
This same sensitivity helps her make a child's boo boo feel better and shares in their teenagers' anxieties and fears.
I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly.
And finally I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed. The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides."
Every woman is beautiful.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
September 20, 2006
Alone
by: Dr. James L. Wilson
I love the solitude of a Trout stream or a good book, and every now and then, when life gets hectic, I'll say, 'I just wish everyone will leave me alone.
A few years ago I was isolated from people after drinking radioactive iodine as a treatment for papillary cancer. I wasn't allowed any visitors, not even the doctor, instead, he stood behind a lead screen at the door to talk to me. The first few hours was wonderful, but after that, I needed human contact. Though periods of solitude are a welcome respite from 'busyness,' the truth is, I hate being alone.
It's not just me either, something happens to people when they are isolated.
Every now and then, a television reporter will put a microphone into the face of a serial killer's neighbor and ask for a description of the criminal. Inevitably, the same term will surface, 'He was a 'loner,'' they'll say, 'He kinda kept to himself.'
The FBI describes Eric Rudolph, the suspected bomber of Centennial Olympic Park during the 1996 Olympic Games, as a 'loner.' You'll remember that reporters used the same term to describe the convicted Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, when he was arrested near Lincoln, Montana in May of 1996.
God said, 'It is not good that man should be alone,' (Gen. 2:18) so He created Eve as a wife for Adam. When Jesus sent his disciples on a mission trip, He sent them out in pairs. Yet, many Christians find themselves in spiritual isolation. They minister alone, study alone and live their Christian life alone. Though times of solitude are helpful to everyone, there is something unhealthy about being a 'Lone Ranger' Christian.
After all, even the Lone Ranger had Tonto.
Alone
by: Dr. James L. Wilson
I love the solitude of a Trout stream or a good book, and every now and then, when life gets hectic, I'll say, 'I just wish everyone will leave me alone.
A few years ago I was isolated from people after drinking radioactive iodine as a treatment for papillary cancer. I wasn't allowed any visitors, not even the doctor, instead, he stood behind a lead screen at the door to talk to me. The first few hours was wonderful, but after that, I needed human contact. Though periods of solitude are a welcome respite from 'busyness,' the truth is, I hate being alone.
It's not just me either, something happens to people when they are isolated.
Every now and then, a television reporter will put a microphone into the face of a serial killer's neighbor and ask for a description of the criminal. Inevitably, the same term will surface, 'He was a 'loner,'' they'll say, 'He kinda kept to himself.'
The FBI describes Eric Rudolph, the suspected bomber of Centennial Olympic Park during the 1996 Olympic Games, as a 'loner.' You'll remember that reporters used the same term to describe the convicted Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, when he was arrested near Lincoln, Montana in May of 1996.
God said, 'It is not good that man should be alone,' (Gen. 2:18) so He created Eve as a wife for Adam. When Jesus sent his disciples on a mission trip, He sent them out in pairs. Yet, many Christians find themselves in spiritual isolation. They minister alone, study alone and live their Christian life alone. Though times of solitude are helpful to everyone, there is something unhealthy about being a 'Lone Ranger' Christian.
After all, even the Lone Ranger had Tonto.
September 18, 2006
Children Are Like Kites
You spend years trying to get them off the ground.
You run with them until you are both breathless. They crash ... they hit the roof ... you patch, comfort and assure them that someday they will fly.
Finally, they are airborne.
They need more string, and you keep letting it out.
They tug, and with each twist of the twine, there is sadness that goes with joy.
The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you together and will soar as meant to soar ... free and alone.
Only then do you know that you have done your job.
Children Are Like Kites
You spend years trying to get them off the ground.
You run with them until you are both breathless. They crash ... they hit the roof ... you patch, comfort and assure them that someday they will fly.
Finally, they are airborne.
They need more string, and you keep letting it out.
They tug, and with each twist of the twine, there is sadness that goes with joy.
The kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you together and will soar as meant to soar ... free and alone.
Only then do you know that you have done your job.
Friday, September 15, 2006
September 15, 2006
THE POTATO
Well, girl potato and boy potato had eyes for each other, and finally they got married and had a little sweet potato which they called YAM. Of course, they wanted the best for YAM. When it was time, they told her about the facts of life.
They warned her about going out and getting half-baked, so she wouldn’t get accidentally mashed and get a bad name for herself like Hot Potato, and end up with a bunch of Tater Tots. YAM said not to worry, no Spud would get her into the sack and make a rotten potato out of her! But on the other hand she wouldn’t stay home and become a couch potato either.
She would exercise so not to be too skinny like her shoestring cousins. When she went to Europe, Mr. & Mrs. Potato told YAM to watch out for he hard boiled guys from Ireland and the greasy guys from France called he French Fries. When she went out west, to watch out for the Indians so she wouldn’t get scalloped. YAM said she would stay on the straight and narrow and wouldn’t associate with those high class Yukon Golds, or the ones from the other side of the tracks who advertise their trade on all the trucks that say Frito Lay.
Mr. & Mrs. Potato sent YAM to Idaho P.U. (that’s Potato University) so that when she graduated she’d really be in the chips. But in spite of all they did for her, one day YAM came home and announced that she was going to marry Tom Brokaw. Mr. & Mrs. Potato were very upset. They told YAM she couldn’t marry Tom Brokaw because he’s just…….
A Common Tater
THE POTATO
Well, girl potato and boy potato had eyes for each other, and finally they got married and had a little sweet potato which they called YAM. Of course, they wanted the best for YAM. When it was time, they told her about the facts of life.
They warned her about going out and getting half-baked, so she wouldn’t get accidentally mashed and get a bad name for herself like Hot Potato, and end up with a bunch of Tater Tots. YAM said not to worry, no Spud would get her into the sack and make a rotten potato out of her! But on the other hand she wouldn’t stay home and become a couch potato either.
She would exercise so not to be too skinny like her shoestring cousins. When she went to Europe, Mr. & Mrs. Potato told YAM to watch out for he hard boiled guys from Ireland and the greasy guys from France called he French Fries. When she went out west, to watch out for the Indians so she wouldn’t get scalloped. YAM said she would stay on the straight and narrow and wouldn’t associate with those high class Yukon Golds, or the ones from the other side of the tracks who advertise their trade on all the trucks that say Frito Lay.
Mr. & Mrs. Potato sent YAM to Idaho P.U. (that’s Potato University) so that when she graduated she’d really be in the chips. But in spite of all they did for her, one day YAM came home and announced that she was going to marry Tom Brokaw. Mr. & Mrs. Potato were very upset. They told YAM she couldn’t marry Tom Brokaw because he’s just…….
A Common Tater
Thursday, September 14, 2006
September 14, 2006
Have you Got a minute?
This beautiful story comes from Sherman Rogers' old book, FOREMEN: LEADERS OR DRIVERS? In his true-life story, Rogers illustrates the importance of effective relationships.
During his college years, Rogers spent a summer in an Idaho logging camp. When the superintendent had to leave for a few days, he put Rogers in charge.
"What if the men refuse to follow my orders?" Rogers asked. He thought of Tony, an immigrant worker who grumbled and growled all day, giving the other men a hard time.
"Fire them," the superintendent said. Then, as if reading Rogers' mind, he added, "I suppose you think you are going to fire Tony if you get the chance. I'd feel badly about that. I have been logging for 40 years. Tony is the most reliable worker I've ever had. I know he is a grouch and that he hates everybody and everything. But he comes in first and leaves last. There has not been an accident for eight years on the hill where he works."
Rogers took over the next day. He went to Tony and spoke to him. "Tony, do you know I'm in charge here today?" Tony grunted. "I was going to fire you the first time we tangled, but I want you to know I'm not," he told Tony, adding what the superintendent had said.
When he finished, Tony dropped the shovelful of sand he had held and tears streamed down his face. "Why he no tell me dat eight years ago?"
That day Tony worked harder than ever before -- and he smiled! He later said to Rogers, "I told Maria you first foreman in deese country who ever say, 'Good work, Tony,' and it make Maria feel like Christmas."
Rogers went back to school after that summer. Twelve years later he met Tony again. He was superintendent for railroad construction for one of the largest logging companies in the West. Rogers asked him how he came to California and happened to have such success.
Tony replied, "If it not be for the one minute you talk to me back in Idaho, I keel somebody someday. One minute, she change my whole life."
Effective managers know the importance of taking a moment to point out what a worker is doing well. But what a difference a minute of affirmation can make in any relationship!
So "Ponder" this.....Have you got a minute?
Have you Got a minute?
This beautiful story comes from Sherman Rogers' old book, FOREMEN: LEADERS OR DRIVERS? In his true-life story, Rogers illustrates the importance of effective relationships.
During his college years, Rogers spent a summer in an Idaho logging camp. When the superintendent had to leave for a few days, he put Rogers in charge.
"What if the men refuse to follow my orders?" Rogers asked. He thought of Tony, an immigrant worker who grumbled and growled all day, giving the other men a hard time.
"Fire them," the superintendent said. Then, as if reading Rogers' mind, he added, "I suppose you think you are going to fire Tony if you get the chance. I'd feel badly about that. I have been logging for 40 years. Tony is the most reliable worker I've ever had. I know he is a grouch and that he hates everybody and everything. But he comes in first and leaves last. There has not been an accident for eight years on the hill where he works."
Rogers took over the next day. He went to Tony and spoke to him. "Tony, do you know I'm in charge here today?" Tony grunted. "I was going to fire you the first time we tangled, but I want you to know I'm not," he told Tony, adding what the superintendent had said.
When he finished, Tony dropped the shovelful of sand he had held and tears streamed down his face. "Why he no tell me dat eight years ago?"
That day Tony worked harder than ever before -- and he smiled! He later said to Rogers, "I told Maria you first foreman in deese country who ever say, 'Good work, Tony,' and it make Maria feel like Christmas."
Rogers went back to school after that summer. Twelve years later he met Tony again. He was superintendent for railroad construction for one of the largest logging companies in the West. Rogers asked him how he came to California and happened to have such success.
Tony replied, "If it not be for the one minute you talk to me back in Idaho, I keel somebody someday. One minute, she change my whole life."
Effective managers know the importance of taking a moment to point out what a worker is doing well. But what a difference a minute of affirmation can make in any relationship!
So "Ponder" this.....Have you got a minute?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
September 13, 2006
A Tragedy or a Blessing?
Years ago in Scotland, the Clark family had a dream. Clark and his wife worked and saved, making plans for their nine children and themselves to travel to the United States. It had taken years, but they had finally saved enough money and had gotten passports and reservations for the whole family on a new liner to the United States.
The entire family was filled with anticipation and excitement about their new life. However, seven days before their departure, the youngest son was bitten by a dog. The doctor sewed up the boy but hung a yellow sheet on the Clarks' front door. Because of the possibility of rabies, they were being quarantined for fourteen days.
The family's dreams were dashed. They would not be able to make the trip to America as they had planned. The father, filled with disappointment and anger, stomped to the dock to watch the ship leave - without the Clark family. The father shed tears of disappointment and cursed both his son and God for their misfortune.
Five days later, the tragic news spread throughout Scotland - the mighty Tittanic had sunk. The unsinkable ship had sunk, taking hundreds of lives with it. The Clark family was to have been on that ship, but because the son had been bitten by a dog, they were left behind in Scotland.
When Mr. Clark heard the news, he hugged his son and thanked him for saving the family. He thanked God for saving their lives and turning what he had felt was a tragedy into a blessing.
Although we may not always understand, all things happen for a reason.
A Tragedy or a Blessing?
Years ago in Scotland, the Clark family had a dream. Clark and his wife worked and saved, making plans for their nine children and themselves to travel to the United States. It had taken years, but they had finally saved enough money and had gotten passports and reservations for the whole family on a new liner to the United States.
The entire family was filled with anticipation and excitement about their new life. However, seven days before their departure, the youngest son was bitten by a dog. The doctor sewed up the boy but hung a yellow sheet on the Clarks' front door. Because of the possibility of rabies, they were being quarantined for fourteen days.
The family's dreams were dashed. They would not be able to make the trip to America as they had planned. The father, filled with disappointment and anger, stomped to the dock to watch the ship leave - without the Clark family. The father shed tears of disappointment and cursed both his son and God for their misfortune.
Five days later, the tragic news spread throughout Scotland - the mighty Tittanic had sunk. The unsinkable ship had sunk, taking hundreds of lives with it. The Clark family was to have been on that ship, but because the son had been bitten by a dog, they were left behind in Scotland.
When Mr. Clark heard the news, he hugged his son and thanked him for saving the family. He thanked God for saving their lives and turning what he had felt was a tragedy into a blessing.
Although we may not always understand, all things happen for a reason.
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