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.
Monday, August 06, 2007
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.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
June 6, 2007
The Choice
He placed one scoop of clay upon another until a form lay lifeless on the ground.
All of the Garden's inhabitants paused to witness the event. Hawks hovered. Giraffes stretched. Trees bowed. Butterflies paused on petals and watched.
"You will love me, nature," God said. "I made you that way. You will obey me, universe. For you were designed to do so. You will reflect my glory, skies, for that is how you were created. But this one will be like me. This one will be able to choose."
All were silent as the Creator reached into himself and removed something yet unseen. A seed. "It's called 'choice.' The seed of choice."
Creation stood in silence and gazed upon the lifeless form.
An angel spoke, "But what if he..."
"What if he chooses not to love?" the Creator finished. "Come, I will show you." Unbound by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow. "There, see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and the bitter."
The angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion. Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters.
He saw the food and the burdens shared. He absorbed the kindness and marveled at the warmth.
"Heaven has never seen such beauty, my Lord. Truly, this is your greatest creation."
"Ah, but you've only seen the sweet. Now witness the bitter." A stench enveloped the pair. The angel turned in horror and proclaimed,
"What is it?"
The Creator spoke only one word: "Selfishness."
The angel stood speechless as they passed through centuries of repugnance. Never had he seen such filth. Rotten hearts. Ruptured promises. Forgotten loyalties. Children of the creation wandering blindly in lonely labyrinths.
"This is the result of choice? the angel asked.
"Yes."
"They will forget you?"
"Yes."
"They will reject you?"
"Yes."
They will never come back?
"Some will. Most won't."
"What will it take to make them listen?"
The Creator walked on in time, further and further into the future, until he stood by a tree. A tree that would be fashioned into a cradle. Even then he could smell the hay that would surround him.
With another step into the future, he paused before another tree. It stood alone, a stubborn ruler on a bald hill. The trunk was thick, and the wood was strong. Soon it would be cut. Soon it would be trimmed. Soon it would be mounted on the stony brow of another hill. And soon he would be hung on it.
He felt the wood rub against a back he did not yet wear.
"Will you go down there?" the angel asked.
"I will."
"Is there no other way?"
"There is not."
"Wouldn't it be easier to not plant the seed? Wouldn't it be easier to not give the choice?"
"It would," the Creator spoke slowly. "But to remove the choice is to remove the love."
He look around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind. Men clad in soldier's garb sat on the ground near the trio. They played games in the dirt and laughed.
Men clad in religion stood off to one side. They smiled. Arrogant, cocky. They had protected God, they thought by killing this false one.
Women clad in sorrow huddled at the foot of the hill. Speechless. Faces tear streaked. Eyes downward. One put her arm around another and tried to lead her away. She wouldn't leave. "I will stay," she said softly, "I will stay."
All heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poised to protect. But the Creator gave no command.
"It must be done...," he said, and withdrew.
But as he stepped in time, he heard the cry that he would someday scream: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He wrenched at tomorrow's agony.
The angel spoke again. "It would be less painful........"
The Creator interrupted softly. "But it wouldn't be love."
They stepped into the Garden again. The Maker looked earnestly at the clay creation. A monsoon of love swelled up within him. He had died for the creation before he had made him. God's form bent over the sculptured face and breathed. Dust stirred on the lips of the new one. The chest rose, cracking the red mud. The cheeks fleshened. A finger moved. And an eye opened.
But more incredible than the moving of the flesh was the stirring of the spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped. Perhaps it was the wind that said it first. Perhaps what the star saw that moment is what has made it blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper it:
"It looks like ... it appears to so much like ... it is him!"
The angel wasn't speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was looking inside - at the soul.
"It's eternal!" gasped another.
Within the man, God has placed a divine seed. A seed of his self (A seed of choice). The God of might had created earth's mightiest... And the One who had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.
Now it's our choice.
The Choice
He placed one scoop of clay upon another until a form lay lifeless on the ground.
All of the Garden's inhabitants paused to witness the event. Hawks hovered. Giraffes stretched. Trees bowed. Butterflies paused on petals and watched.
"You will love me, nature," God said. "I made you that way. You will obey me, universe. For you were designed to do so. You will reflect my glory, skies, for that is how you were created. But this one will be like me. This one will be able to choose."
All were silent as the Creator reached into himself and removed something yet unseen. A seed. "It's called 'choice.' The seed of choice."
Creation stood in silence and gazed upon the lifeless form.
An angel spoke, "But what if he..."
"What if he chooses not to love?" the Creator finished. "Come, I will show you." Unbound by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow. "There, see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and the bitter."
The angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion. Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters.
He saw the food and the burdens shared. He absorbed the kindness and marveled at the warmth.
"Heaven has never seen such beauty, my Lord. Truly, this is your greatest creation."
"Ah, but you've only seen the sweet. Now witness the bitter." A stench enveloped the pair. The angel turned in horror and proclaimed,
"What is it?"
The Creator spoke only one word: "Selfishness."
The angel stood speechless as they passed through centuries of repugnance. Never had he seen such filth. Rotten hearts. Ruptured promises. Forgotten loyalties. Children of the creation wandering blindly in lonely labyrinths.
"This is the result of choice? the angel asked.
"Yes."
"They will forget you?"
"Yes."
"They will reject you?"
"Yes."
They will never come back?
"Some will. Most won't."
"What will it take to make them listen?"
The Creator walked on in time, further and further into the future, until he stood by a tree. A tree that would be fashioned into a cradle. Even then he could smell the hay that would surround him.
With another step into the future, he paused before another tree. It stood alone, a stubborn ruler on a bald hill. The trunk was thick, and the wood was strong. Soon it would be cut. Soon it would be trimmed. Soon it would be mounted on the stony brow of another hill. And soon he would be hung on it.
He felt the wood rub against a back he did not yet wear.
"Will you go down there?" the angel asked.
"I will."
"Is there no other way?"
"There is not."
"Wouldn't it be easier to not plant the seed? Wouldn't it be easier to not give the choice?"
"It would," the Creator spoke slowly. "But to remove the choice is to remove the love."
He look around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind. Men clad in soldier's garb sat on the ground near the trio. They played games in the dirt and laughed.
Men clad in religion stood off to one side. They smiled. Arrogant, cocky. They had protected God, they thought by killing this false one.
Women clad in sorrow huddled at the foot of the hill. Speechless. Faces tear streaked. Eyes downward. One put her arm around another and tried to lead her away. She wouldn't leave. "I will stay," she said softly, "I will stay."
All heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poised to protect. But the Creator gave no command.
"It must be done...," he said, and withdrew.
But as he stepped in time, he heard the cry that he would someday scream: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He wrenched at tomorrow's agony.
The angel spoke again. "It would be less painful........"
The Creator interrupted softly. "But it wouldn't be love."
They stepped into the Garden again. The Maker looked earnestly at the clay creation. A monsoon of love swelled up within him. He had died for the creation before he had made him. God's form bent over the sculptured face and breathed. Dust stirred on the lips of the new one. The chest rose, cracking the red mud. The cheeks fleshened. A finger moved. And an eye opened.
But more incredible than the moving of the flesh was the stirring of the spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped. Perhaps it was the wind that said it first. Perhaps what the star saw that moment is what has made it blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper it:
"It looks like ... it appears to so much like ... it is him!"
The angel wasn't speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was looking inside - at the soul.
"It's eternal!" gasped another.
Within the man, God has placed a divine seed. A seed of his self (A seed of choice). The God of might had created earth's mightiest... And the One who had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.
Now it's our choice.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
June 5, 2007
Request For Transfer
TO: Commander-in-Chief Spiritual Armed Forces, Jesus Christ
Dear Lord:
I am writing this to You to request a transfer to a desk job. I herewith present my reasons: I began my career as a private, but because of the intensity of the battle You have quickly moved me up in the ranks. You have made me an officer and given me a tremendous amount of responsibility. There are many soldiers and recruits under my charge. I am constantly being called upon to dispense wisdom, make judgments, and find solutions to complex problems. You have placed me in a position to function as an officer, when in my heart I know I have only the skills of a private.
I realize that You have promised to supply all I would need for the battle. But Sir, I must present You a realistic picture of my situation. My uniform, once so crisp and starched, is now stained with tears and blood of those I have tried to assist. The soles of my boots are cracked and worn from the miles I have walked trying to enlist, encourage, and instruct the troops. My weapons are marred, tarnished and chipped from constant battle against the enemy. Even the Book of Regulations I was issued has been torn and tattered from endless use. The words are now smeared.
You have promised You would be with me throughout, but when the noise of the battle is so loud and the confusion is so great, I can neither see nor hear You. I feel so alone. I'm tired. I'm discouraged. I have Battle Fatigue. I would never ask You for a discharge. I love being in Your service. But I humbly request a demotion and transfer. I'll file papers or clean latrines. Just get me out of the battle -- please, Sir.
Your Faithful, but tired, Warrior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TO: Faithful, but tired, Soldier, Spiritual Armed Forces
LOCATION: The Battlefield
SUBJECT: Transfer
Dear Soldier:
Your request for transfer has been denied. I herewith present My reasons: You are needed in this battle. I have selected you, and I will keep My Word to supply your needs. You do not need a demotion and transfer. Besides, you'd never cut it on latrine duty anyway. You need a period of "R & R" (Renewal and Rekindling). I am setting aside a place on the battlefield that is insulated and fully protected from the enemy. I will meet you there and I will give you rest. I will remove your old equipment and "make all things new."
You have been wounded in the battle, My soldier. Your wounds are not visible, but you have received grave internal injuries. You need to be healed. I will heal you. Also, you have been weakened in the battle. You need to be strengthened. I will strengthen you and be your strength. I will instill in you confidence and ability. My Words will be rekindled within you, giving you renewed love, zeal and enthusiasm. Report to Me tattered and empty. I will replenish you.
Compassionately,
Your Commander-in-Chief, Jesus Christ
Request For Transfer
TO: Commander-in-Chief Spiritual Armed Forces, Jesus Christ
Dear Lord:
I am writing this to You to request a transfer to a desk job. I herewith present my reasons: I began my career as a private, but because of the intensity of the battle You have quickly moved me up in the ranks. You have made me an officer and given me a tremendous amount of responsibility. There are many soldiers and recruits under my charge. I am constantly being called upon to dispense wisdom, make judgments, and find solutions to complex problems. You have placed me in a position to function as an officer, when in my heart I know I have only the skills of a private.
I realize that You have promised to supply all I would need for the battle. But Sir, I must present You a realistic picture of my situation. My uniform, once so crisp and starched, is now stained with tears and blood of those I have tried to assist. The soles of my boots are cracked and worn from the miles I have walked trying to enlist, encourage, and instruct the troops. My weapons are marred, tarnished and chipped from constant battle against the enemy. Even the Book of Regulations I was issued has been torn and tattered from endless use. The words are now smeared.
You have promised You would be with me throughout, but when the noise of the battle is so loud and the confusion is so great, I can neither see nor hear You. I feel so alone. I'm tired. I'm discouraged. I have Battle Fatigue. I would never ask You for a discharge. I love being in Your service. But I humbly request a demotion and transfer. I'll file papers or clean latrines. Just get me out of the battle -- please, Sir.
Your Faithful, but tired, Warrior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TO: Faithful, but tired, Soldier, Spiritual Armed Forces
LOCATION: The Battlefield
SUBJECT: Transfer
Dear Soldier:
Your request for transfer has been denied. I herewith present My reasons: You are needed in this battle. I have selected you, and I will keep My Word to supply your needs. You do not need a demotion and transfer. Besides, you'd never cut it on latrine duty anyway. You need a period of "R & R" (Renewal and Rekindling). I am setting aside a place on the battlefield that is insulated and fully protected from the enemy. I will meet you there and I will give you rest. I will remove your old equipment and "make all things new."
You have been wounded in the battle, My soldier. Your wounds are not visible, but you have received grave internal injuries. You need to be healed. I will heal you. Also, you have been weakened in the battle. You need to be strengthened. I will strengthen you and be your strength. I will instill in you confidence and ability. My Words will be rekindled within you, giving you renewed love, zeal and enthusiasm. Report to Me tattered and empty. I will replenish you.
Compassionately,
Your Commander-in-Chief, Jesus Christ
Monday, June 04, 2007
June 7th 2007
Three Kernels of Corn Parable
Three young men were once given three kernels of corn apiece by a wise old sage, who admonished them to go out into the world, and use the corn to bring themselves good fortune.
The first young man put his three kernels of corn into a bowl of hot broth and ate them. The second thought, I can do better than that, and he planted his three kernels of corn. Within a few months, he had three stalks of corn. He took the ears of corn from the stalks, boiled them, and had enough corn for three meals.
The third man said to himself, I can do better than that! He also planted his three kernels of corn, but when his three stalks of corn produced, he stripped one of the stalks and replanted all of the seeds in it, gave the second stalk of corn to a sweet maiden, and ate the third. His one full stalk's worth of replanted corn kernels gave him 200 stalks of corn! And the kernels of these he continued to replant, setting aside only a bare minimum to eat. He eventually planted a hundred acres of corn. With his fortune, he not only won the hand of the sweet maiden but purchased the land owned by the sweet maiden's father. And he never hungered again.
The more you give, the more you get. However, that should NOT be the reason for your giving.
Proverbs 11:24 NLT
It is possible to give freely and become more wealthy, but those who are stingy will lose everything.
Proverbs 11:25 NLT
The generous prosper and are satisfied; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed.
Three Kernels of Corn Parable
Three young men were once given three kernels of corn apiece by a wise old sage, who admonished them to go out into the world, and use the corn to bring themselves good fortune.
The first young man put his three kernels of corn into a bowl of hot broth and ate them. The second thought, I can do better than that, and he planted his three kernels of corn. Within a few months, he had three stalks of corn. He took the ears of corn from the stalks, boiled them, and had enough corn for three meals.
The third man said to himself, I can do better than that! He also planted his three kernels of corn, but when his three stalks of corn produced, he stripped one of the stalks and replanted all of the seeds in it, gave the second stalk of corn to a sweet maiden, and ate the third. His one full stalk's worth of replanted corn kernels gave him 200 stalks of corn! And the kernels of these he continued to replant, setting aside only a bare minimum to eat. He eventually planted a hundred acres of corn. With his fortune, he not only won the hand of the sweet maiden but purchased the land owned by the sweet maiden's father. And he never hungered again.
The more you give, the more you get. However, that should NOT be the reason for your giving.
Proverbs 11:24 NLT
It is possible to give freely and become more wealthy, but those who are stingy will lose everything.
Proverbs 11:25 NLT
The generous prosper and are satisfied; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Friday June 1st, 2007
For Lexophiles (lovers of words)
1. Time flies like an arrow -- Fruit flies like a banana.
2. A bicycle can't stand alone because it is two-tired.
3. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.
4. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.
5. The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered.
6. You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.
7. He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key.
8. A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
9. The short fortuneteller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.
10. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
For Lexophiles (lovers of words)
1. Time flies like an arrow -- Fruit flies like a banana.
2. A bicycle can't stand alone because it is two-tired.
3. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.
4. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.
5. The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered.
6. You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.
7. He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key.
8. A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
9. The short fortuneteller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.
10. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
Friday, May 25, 2007
May 23, 2007
From Dave Burchette's Confessions of a Bad Christian
www.daveburchett.com
Barry Bonds reflects our culture so why do we dislike him so much?
There will soon be a history making moment in Major League Baseball. The long revered home run record of Henry Aaron will be broken by Barry Bonds. America was swept up in euphoria when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa shattered Babe Ruth’s single season record. The excitement helped save a game badly damaged by petty labor disputes.
Now an accomplishment of much greater magnitude is approaching and America is apathetic or even hostile toward Barry Bonds. The reason? There is considerable reason to suspect that he enhanced his strength and performance with steroids. Here is the problem with being a Barry-hatah on that basis alone. MLB did not ban steroids until a couple of years ago. So Bonds did not violate any “rules” of Major League Baseball. He lived in a free floating world of situational ethics and he decided the greater good was to get stronger.
Barry Bonds was certainly not alone in artificially building his body. And it is naive to believe that only hitters used steroids. More than a handful of pitchers suddenly developed more speed on their fastball at a point in their careers where that usually doesn’t occur.
In Proverbs you will find this timeless wisdom.
Truth stands the test of time; lies are soon exposed. Deceit fills hearts that are plotting evil; joy fills hearts that are planning peace! Proverbs 12 NLT
Back to the Barry Bonds saga. I wish that Barry Bonds were not breaking Hank Aaron’s record but I don’t hate him for doing it. Here is my fantasy if I could control how this event plays out. I would get every pitcher in baseball to commit to a plan. When Bonds is one home run away from tying the mark MLB pitchers would intentionally walk him 44 consecutive times at bat. That is Hank Aaron’s uniform number that he wore with dignity for over two decades.
That would show the respect we have for Hammerin’ Hank and his unsullied record. Is that going to happen? Of course not. But how cool would that be to see the walks mount…40…41…42…43…44. We love you Hank! OK, Barry, now you can break the record. Have at it.
The situational ethics of the home run pursuit has application for followers of Jesus and the message seems clear. We are held to a higher standard than technically fitting inside the rules.
When I am tempted to bend a rule or slide by on a technicality I must not do it. Everyday I am representing Jesus in the marketplace. I pray I will always take that seriously.
From Dave Burchette's Confessions of a Bad Christian
www.daveburchett.com
Barry Bonds reflects our culture so why do we dislike him so much?
There will soon be a history making moment in Major League Baseball. The long revered home run record of Henry Aaron will be broken by Barry Bonds. America was swept up in euphoria when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa shattered Babe Ruth’s single season record. The excitement helped save a game badly damaged by petty labor disputes.
Now an accomplishment of much greater magnitude is approaching and America is apathetic or even hostile toward Barry Bonds. The reason? There is considerable reason to suspect that he enhanced his strength and performance with steroids. Here is the problem with being a Barry-hatah on that basis alone. MLB did not ban steroids until a couple of years ago. So Bonds did not violate any “rules” of Major League Baseball. He lived in a free floating world of situational ethics and he decided the greater good was to get stronger.
Barry Bonds was certainly not alone in artificially building his body. And it is naive to believe that only hitters used steroids. More than a handful of pitchers suddenly developed more speed on their fastball at a point in their careers where that usually doesn’t occur.
In Proverbs you will find this timeless wisdom.
Truth stands the test of time; lies are soon exposed. Deceit fills hearts that are plotting evil; joy fills hearts that are planning peace! Proverbs 12 NLT
Back to the Barry Bonds saga. I wish that Barry Bonds were not breaking Hank Aaron’s record but I don’t hate him for doing it. Here is my fantasy if I could control how this event plays out. I would get every pitcher in baseball to commit to a plan. When Bonds is one home run away from tying the mark MLB pitchers would intentionally walk him 44 consecutive times at bat. That is Hank Aaron’s uniform number that he wore with dignity for over two decades.
That would show the respect we have for Hammerin’ Hank and his unsullied record. Is that going to happen? Of course not. But how cool would that be to see the walks mount…40…41…42…43…44. We love you Hank! OK, Barry, now you can break the record. Have at it.
The situational ethics of the home run pursuit has application for followers of Jesus and the message seems clear. We are held to a higher standard than technically fitting inside the rules.
When I am tempted to bend a rule or slide by on a technicality I must not do it. Everyday I am representing Jesus in the marketplace. I pray I will always take that seriously.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
May 22, 2007
Teachers
After being interviewed by the school administration, the eager teaching prospect said:
"Let me see if I've got this right. You want me to go into that room with all those kids and fill their every waking moment with a love for learning. And I'm supposed to instill a sense of pride in their ethnicity, modify their disruptive behavior, observe them for signs of abuse and even censor their T shirt messages and dress habits.
You want me to wage a war on drugs, check their backpacks for weapons of mass destruction, and raise their self esteem. You want me to teach them patriotism, good citizenship, sportsmanship, and fair play, how and where to register to vote, how to balance a checkbook, and how to apply for a job. I am to check their heads for lice, maintain a safe environment, recognize signs of antisocial behavior, offer advice, write letters of recommendation for student employment and scholarships, encourage respect for the cultural diversity of others, and, oh yeah, always make sure that I give the girls in my class 50 percent of my attention.
My contract requires me to work on my own time after school and evenings grading papers. Also, I must spend my summer vacation at my own expense, working toward advance certification and a Master's degree. And on my own time you want me to attend committee and faculty meetings, PTA meetings, and participate in staff development training. I am to be a paragon of virtue, larger than life, such that my very presence will awe my students into being obedient and respectful of authority. And I am to pledge allegiance to family values and this current administration.
You want me to incorporate technology into the learning experience, monitor web sites, and relate personally with each student. That includes deciding who might be potentially dangerous and/or liable to commit a crime in school. I am to make sure all students pass the state mandatory exams, even those who don't come to school regularly or complete any of their assignments. Plus, I am to make sure that all of the students with handicaps get an equal education regardless of the extent of their mental or physical handicap. And I am to communicate regularly with the parents by letter, telephone, newsletter, and report card.
All of this I am to do with just a piece of chalk, a computer, a few books, a bulletin board, and a big smile AND on a starting salary that qualifies my family for food stamps!
You want me to do all of this, and you expect me NOT TO PRAY?"
Teachers
After being interviewed by the school administration, the eager teaching prospect said:
"Let me see if I've got this right. You want me to go into that room with all those kids and fill their every waking moment with a love for learning. And I'm supposed to instill a sense of pride in their ethnicity, modify their disruptive behavior, observe them for signs of abuse and even censor their T shirt messages and dress habits.
You want me to wage a war on drugs, check their backpacks for weapons of mass destruction, and raise their self esteem. You want me to teach them patriotism, good citizenship, sportsmanship, and fair play, how and where to register to vote, how to balance a checkbook, and how to apply for a job. I am to check their heads for lice, maintain a safe environment, recognize signs of antisocial behavior, offer advice, write letters of recommendation for student employment and scholarships, encourage respect for the cultural diversity of others, and, oh yeah, always make sure that I give the girls in my class 50 percent of my attention.
My contract requires me to work on my own time after school and evenings grading papers. Also, I must spend my summer vacation at my own expense, working toward advance certification and a Master's degree. And on my own time you want me to attend committee and faculty meetings, PTA meetings, and participate in staff development training. I am to be a paragon of virtue, larger than life, such that my very presence will awe my students into being obedient and respectful of authority. And I am to pledge allegiance to family values and this current administration.
You want me to incorporate technology into the learning experience, monitor web sites, and relate personally with each student. That includes deciding who might be potentially dangerous and/or liable to commit a crime in school. I am to make sure all students pass the state mandatory exams, even those who don't come to school regularly or complete any of their assignments. Plus, I am to make sure that all of the students with handicaps get an equal education regardless of the extent of their mental or physical handicap. And I am to communicate regularly with the parents by letter, telephone, newsletter, and report card.
All of this I am to do with just a piece of chalk, a computer, a few books, a bulletin board, and a big smile AND on a starting salary that qualifies my family for food stamps!
You want me to do all of this, and you expect me NOT TO PRAY?"
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Ponder of the week for week of May 14th
Next Season on Survivor!
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one
car and 3 kids each for six weeks. Each kid will play
two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his
assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete
science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of
"pretend" bills with not enough money. In addition,
each man will have to budget in money for groceries
each week. Each man must remember the birthdays of all their
friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's
appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut
appointment. He must make one unscheduled and
inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care
(weekend, evening, on a holiday or right when
they're about to leave for vacation.)
He must make cookies or cupcakes for a social
function. Each man will be responsible for decorating
his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and
keeping it presentable at all times. The men will only
have access to television when the kids are asleep and
all chores are done.
There is only one TV between them, and a remote with
dead batteries. Each father will be required to know all of the words
to every stupid song that comes on TV and the name of
each and every character on cartoons.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily,
which they will apply to themselves either while
driving or making three lunches.
Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with
six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4
year old to eat a serving of peas.
Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear
uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep his nails
polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try to get
through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on
their clothing.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to
endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have
extreme, unexplained mood but never once complain or
slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least
once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
Each will need to read a book and then pray with the
children each night without falling asleep, and then
feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb
their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave
the home with no food on their face or clothes.
They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m.
and then spend the remainder of the day tending to
that child and waiting on them hand and foot until
they are better.
They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to,
"You're not the boss of me".
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and
each father will be required to know all of the
following information: each child's birthday, height,
weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name.
Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of
birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite
color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song,
favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and
what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on
performance. If the last man does win, he can play the game over
and over and over again for the next 18-25 years...
eventually earning the right to be called Mother!
Next Season on Survivor!
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one
car and 3 kids each for six weeks. Each kid will play
two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 3 kids; keep his
assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete
science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of
"pretend" bills with not enough money. In addition,
each man will have to budget in money for groceries
each week. Each man must remember the birthdays of all their
friends and relatives, and send cards out on time.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's
appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut
appointment. He must make one unscheduled and
inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care
(weekend, evening, on a holiday or right when
they're about to leave for vacation.)
He must make cookies or cupcakes for a social
function. Each man will be responsible for decorating
his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and
keeping it presentable at all times. The men will only
have access to television when the kids are asleep and
all chores are done.
There is only one TV between them, and a remote with
dead batteries. Each father will be required to know all of the words
to every stupid song that comes on TV and the name of
each and every character on cartoons.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily,
which they will apply to themselves either while
driving or making three lunches.
Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with
six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4
year old to eat a serving of peas.
Each man must adorn himself with jewelry, wear
uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep his nails
polished and eyebrows groomed. The men must try to get
through each day without snot, spit-up or barf on
their clothing.
During one of the six weeks, the men will have to
endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have
extreme, unexplained mood but never once complain or
slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, church, and find time at least
once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
Each will need to read a book and then pray with the
children each night without falling asleep, and then
feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb
their hair each morning by 7:00. They must leave
the home with no food on their face or clothes.
They must clean up after their sick children at 2:00 a.m.
and then spend the remainder of the day tending to
that child and waiting on them hand and foot until
they are better.
They must have a loving, age appropriate reply to,
"You're not the boss of me".
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and
each father will be required to know all of the
following information: each child's birthday, height,
weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name.
Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of
birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite
color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song,
favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and
what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on
performance. If the last man does win, he can play the game over
and over and over again for the next 18-25 years...
eventually earning the right to be called Mother!
Friday, May 04, 2007
May 4, 2007
What Would Jesus Say?
by Dave Burchett
A local church is doing a sermon series involving what Jesus would say to various celebrities. The signboard asks the question, What would Jesus say to….
Alec Baldwin. Tom Cruise. Rosie O’Donnell. Bono.
I wondered what I would say to each of those famous or infamous people. In my fantasy world I would say something like this…
Alec Baldwin – Don’t misplace your anger.
Tom Cruise – You might want to rethink the medication thing.
Rosie O’Donnell – Remember when you were funny?
Bono – You rock.
In the real world I would likely not say any of those things except maybe the “you rock” to Bono. But I was wondering if what Jesus would say to a celebrity is the right question to ask? I am pretty good at figuring out what Jesus would say to others. I have an amazing ability to hear a sermon and wonder if Congregant A is hearing this? Or to shake my head and think, “Man, does Congregant B need to hear that!”
But the question I need to be asking is what Jesus would say to Dave? That is where I get less comfortable and a bit more reserved. My fantasy conversation with Jesus happens (surprise) at Starbucks. The first question would be WWJO. What would Jesus order? After we answered that I imagined the conversation would go something like this…
Jesus: I have missed spending time with you recently.
Dave: I have been really busy with work and traveling.
Jesus: I understand. But you know the Shepherd knows when his sheep wander off for awhile.
Dave: Yeah. Sorry.
Jesus: I was glad you came to me with your fear and hurt about Joni’s cancer.
Dave: I don’t know how I could have handled that without you.
Jesus: I am there for you. But you know I am also there when there is not a crisis.
Dave: I know. I forget that sometimes. I get so busy with stupid stuff that I forget to pray and spend time with you.
Jesus: I was just wondering something.
Dave: What?
Jesus: Did you find time to spend with your fantasy baseball team roster today?
Dave: Do you need a refill? Pastry?
Jesus: Nice try. You make time for what is important to you. I want to be as important to you as you are to me.
Dave: Why do you put up with me?
Jesus: Because I love you. And I always will.
So maybe my imaginary conversation with Jesus would not go quite like that. I think that conversation would change how I go about my daily routines. I believe that conversation would alter how I view others. And I believe my talk with Jesus would energize my walk with Him.
So the next question is simple. Why isn’t that already happening on a consistent basis? I have His words and teachings to study. I have the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. I have other followers of Jesus to share the journey with each day.
So what would Jesus say to me? I think He would say something very simple and yet profound enough to challenge me for the rest of my days. Here is a little medley of the message I think He would have for me (and you).
"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." Matt 4:19
But Jesus told him, "Follow me…. Matt 8:22
"Follow me," he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. Matt 9:9
"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. Matt 16:24
Then come, follow me." Matt 19:21
Finding Philip, he said to him, "Follow me." John 1:43
Whoever serves me must follow me; John 12:26
Jesus answered, "If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me." John 21:22
In the immortal words of Forrest Gump…”I’m not a smart man”. But like Forrest I have a keen sense of the obvious. I have surmised (brilliantly) that Jesus would say to follow Him. The rest of it we will figure out together.
What Would Jesus Say?
by Dave Burchett
A local church is doing a sermon series involving what Jesus would say to various celebrities. The signboard asks the question, What would Jesus say to….
Alec Baldwin. Tom Cruise. Rosie O’Donnell. Bono.
I wondered what I would say to each of those famous or infamous people. In my fantasy world I would say something like this…
Alec Baldwin – Don’t misplace your anger.
Tom Cruise – You might want to rethink the medication thing.
Rosie O’Donnell – Remember when you were funny?
Bono – You rock.
In the real world I would likely not say any of those things except maybe the “you rock” to Bono. But I was wondering if what Jesus would say to a celebrity is the right question to ask? I am pretty good at figuring out what Jesus would say to others. I have an amazing ability to hear a sermon and wonder if Congregant A is hearing this? Or to shake my head and think, “Man, does Congregant B need to hear that!”
But the question I need to be asking is what Jesus would say to Dave? That is where I get less comfortable and a bit more reserved. My fantasy conversation with Jesus happens (surprise) at Starbucks. The first question would be WWJO. What would Jesus order? After we answered that I imagined the conversation would go something like this…
Jesus: I have missed spending time with you recently.
Dave: I have been really busy with work and traveling.
Jesus: I understand. But you know the Shepherd knows when his sheep wander off for awhile.
Dave: Yeah. Sorry.
Jesus: I was glad you came to me with your fear and hurt about Joni’s cancer.
Dave: I don’t know how I could have handled that without you.
Jesus: I am there for you. But you know I am also there when there is not a crisis.
Dave: I know. I forget that sometimes. I get so busy with stupid stuff that I forget to pray and spend time with you.
Jesus: I was just wondering something.
Dave: What?
Jesus: Did you find time to spend with your fantasy baseball team roster today?
Dave: Do you need a refill? Pastry?
Jesus: Nice try. You make time for what is important to you. I want to be as important to you as you are to me.
Dave: Why do you put up with me?
Jesus: Because I love you. And I always will.
So maybe my imaginary conversation with Jesus would not go quite like that. I think that conversation would change how I go about my daily routines. I believe that conversation would alter how I view others. And I believe my talk with Jesus would energize my walk with Him.
So the next question is simple. Why isn’t that already happening on a consistent basis? I have His words and teachings to study. I have the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life. I have other followers of Jesus to share the journey with each day.
So what would Jesus say to me? I think He would say something very simple and yet profound enough to challenge me for the rest of my days. Here is a little medley of the message I think He would have for me (and you).
"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." Matt 4:19
But Jesus told him, "Follow me…. Matt 8:22
"Follow me," he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. Matt 9:9
"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. Matt 16:24
Then come, follow me." Matt 19:21
Finding Philip, he said to him, "Follow me." John 1:43
Whoever serves me must follow me; John 12:26
Jesus answered, "If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me." John 21:22
In the immortal words of Forrest Gump…”I’m not a smart man”. But like Forrest I have a keen sense of the obvious. I have surmised (brilliantly) that Jesus would say to follow Him. The rest of it we will figure out together.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
May 3, 2007
This Is Good
An old story is told of a king in Africa who had a close friend with whom he grew up. The friend had a habit of looking at every situation that ever occurred in his life (positive or negative) and remarking, "This is good!"
One day the king and his friend were out on a hunting expedition. The friend would load and prepare the guns for the king. The friend had apparently done something wrong in preparing one of the guns, for after taking the gun from his friend, the king fired it and his thumb was blown off. Examining the situation the friend remarked as usual, "This is good!" To which the king replied, "No, this is NOT good!" and proceeded to send his friend to jail.
About a year later, the king was hunting in an area that he should have known to stay clear of. Cannibals captured him and took him to their village. They tied his hands, stacked some wood, set up a stake and bound him to the stake.
As they came near to set fire to the wood, they noticed that the king was missing a thumb. Being superstitious, they never ate anyone that was less than whole. So untying the king, they sent him on his way. As he returned home, he was reminded of the event that had taken his thumb and felt remorse for his treatment of his friend. He went immediately to the jail to speak with his friend. "You were right," he said, "it was good that my thumb was blown off." And he proceeded to tell the friend all that had just happened. "And so I am very sorry for sending you to jail for so long. It was bad for me to do this."
"No," his friend replied, "This is good!"
"What do you mean,'This is good'? How could it be good that I sent my friend to jail for a year?"
"If I had NOT been in jail, I would have been with you." "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." (Rom. 8:28)
Situations may not always seem pleasant while we are in them, but the promise of God is clear. If we love Him and live our lives according to His precepts, even that which seems to be bleak and hopeless will be turned by God for His glory and our benefit.
Hold on, God is faithful! May God bless you this week as you seek His will in every situation.
This Is Good
An old story is told of a king in Africa who had a close friend with whom he grew up. The friend had a habit of looking at every situation that ever occurred in his life (positive or negative) and remarking, "This is good!"
One day the king and his friend were out on a hunting expedition. The friend would load and prepare the guns for the king. The friend had apparently done something wrong in preparing one of the guns, for after taking the gun from his friend, the king fired it and his thumb was blown off. Examining the situation the friend remarked as usual, "This is good!" To which the king replied, "No, this is NOT good!" and proceeded to send his friend to jail.
About a year later, the king was hunting in an area that he should have known to stay clear of. Cannibals captured him and took him to their village. They tied his hands, stacked some wood, set up a stake and bound him to the stake.
As they came near to set fire to the wood, they noticed that the king was missing a thumb. Being superstitious, they never ate anyone that was less than whole. So untying the king, they sent him on his way. As he returned home, he was reminded of the event that had taken his thumb and felt remorse for his treatment of his friend. He went immediately to the jail to speak with his friend. "You were right," he said, "it was good that my thumb was blown off." And he proceeded to tell the friend all that had just happened. "And so I am very sorry for sending you to jail for so long. It was bad for me to do this."
"No," his friend replied, "This is good!"
"What do you mean,'This is good'? How could it be good that I sent my friend to jail for a year?"
"If I had NOT been in jail, I would have been with you." "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." (Rom. 8:28)
Situations may not always seem pleasant while we are in them, but the promise of God is clear. If we love Him and live our lives according to His precepts, even that which seems to be bleak and hopeless will be turned by God for His glory and our benefit.
Hold on, God is faithful! May God bless you this week as you seek His will in every situation.
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