February 9, 2007
Today's ponder is from Dave Burchett's Daily Blog. www.daveburchett.com
Nice guys finish....first
Leo Durocher allegedly said that “nice guys finish last”. When you look at the most successful coaches of recent years you would not generally use “nice” as the first descriptive word.
Indianapolis Colts Coach Tony Dungy is one of the nicest, most admired men in professional sports. He has the respect of his team and those who follow the sport. One year ago he dealt with the tragic death of his son James with dignity and strength. Last Sunday he coached his team to a win in the Super Bowl. And now he has created controversy with this statement made to CBS sportscaster Jim Nantz after the game.
Jim Nantz of CBS Sports: This is one of those moments, Tony, where there is also social significance in this victory, and to have your hands on the Vince Lombardi Trophy. Tell me what this means to you right now.
Tony Dungy: I'll tell you what. I'm proud to be representing African-American coaches, to be the first African-American to win this. It means an awful lot to our country. But again, more than anything, I've said it before, Lovie Smith and I, not only the first two African-Americans, but Christian coaches showing that you can win doing it the Lord's way. And we're more proud of that.
The blogosphere lit up with analysis of Dungy’s comments. LA Daily News Columnist Kevin Modesti wrote a piece that praised Dungy’s character while still asking a few questions…
Does Dungy really think "showing that you can win doing it the Lord's way" has more social significance than breaking the Al Campanis generation's stereotypes about blacks in sports management positions?
No. I think he was saying that the individual viewer and the country would decide the social significance. Nance asked him what the accomplishment meant to him. Tony Dungy was speaking for himself and for his good friend Lovie Smith. They believed that winning while living by their faith and principles meant more to them than the race issue. Dungy answered the question honestly
Should other winning football coaches take offense from the implication that they've been doing it the morally corrupt way?
No. But I suspect that at least a couple of coaches are looking to adopt the “Lord’s Game Plan” before training camp starts. West Coast offense. 3– 4 defense. Lord’s way. Whatever it takes to win.
Should believers of other religions take offense from any or all of this?
Why should they? Tony Dungy has earned the platform to speak by consistently living his faith through adversity and heart wrenching tragedy. Dungy was saying that he had stayed true to his values and that he was successful with those values. Dungy doesn’t curse. He never raises his voice. He doesn’t demean his opponents or his players.
Are those exclusively Christian values?
Of course not. An agnostic could be just as nice and soft spoken and civil. But for Tony Dungy it was his faith in Christ that was the foundation for his values and approach. Christianity worked for him. He earned the right to speak and he spoke. Good for him. And I have to tell you it is really nice to see a nice guy finish first.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
February 8, 2007
The Coal Basket
The story is told of an old man who lived on a farm in the mountains of Kentucky with his young grandson. Each morning, Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading from his old worn out Bible.
His grandson who wanted to be just like him tried to imitate him in any way he could.
One day the grandson asked, "Papa, I try to read the Bible just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Bible do?"
The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and said, "Take this coal basket down to the river and bring back a basket of water"
The boy did as he was told, even though all the water leaked out before he could get back to the house.
The grandfather laughed and said, "You will have to move a little faster next time," and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again. This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before he returned home.
Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was "impossible to carry water in a basket," and he went to get a bucket instead. The old man said, "I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You can
do this. You're just not trying hard enough," and he went out the door to watch the boy try again.
At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got very far. The boy scooped the water and ran hard,
but when he reached his grandfather the basket was again empty.
Out of breath, he said, "See Papa, it's useless!"
"So you think it is useless?" The old man said, "Look at the basket."
The boy looked at the basket and for the first time he realized that the basket looked different. Instead of a dirty old coal basket, it was clean.
"Son, that's what happens when you read the Bible. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, it will change you from the inside out."
That is the work of God in our lives. It will change us from the inside out and to slowly transform us into the image of His son.
Take time to read a portion of God's word each day.
"Live Simply, Love Generously,
Care Deeply, Speak Kindly,
Leave The Rest To God"
The Coal Basket
The story is told of an old man who lived on a farm in the mountains of Kentucky with his young grandson. Each morning, Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading from his old worn out Bible.
His grandson who wanted to be just like him tried to imitate him in any way he could.
One day the grandson asked, "Papa, I try to read the Bible just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Bible do?"
The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and said, "Take this coal basket down to the river and bring back a basket of water"
The boy did as he was told, even though all the water leaked out before he could get back to the house.
The grandfather laughed and said, "You will have to move a little faster next time," and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again. This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before he returned home.
Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was "impossible to carry water in a basket," and he went to get a bucket instead. The old man said, "I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You can
do this. You're just not trying hard enough," and he went out the door to watch the boy try again.
At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got very far. The boy scooped the water and ran hard,
but when he reached his grandfather the basket was again empty.
Out of breath, he said, "See Papa, it's useless!"
"So you think it is useless?" The old man said, "Look at the basket."
The boy looked at the basket and for the first time he realized that the basket looked different. Instead of a dirty old coal basket, it was clean.
"Son, that's what happens when you read the Bible. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, it will change you from the inside out."
That is the work of God in our lives. It will change us from the inside out and to slowly transform us into the image of His son.
Take time to read a portion of God's word each day.
"Live Simply, Love Generously,
Care Deeply, Speak Kindly,
Leave The Rest To God"
Monday, February 05, 2007
February 5, 2007
Control, fear, doubt and anger; these are the real deadly killers of the human race. We hurt ourselves by feeling these emotions and we hurt others by directing these emotions at them.
But what if we could direct unconditional love to whomever we meet? What then? Could we help the world be a better place? Maybe, maybe not but we'd certainly help ourselves. Why do we let other people hurt us? Because we put expectations on them, expectations that we ourselves have failed to live up to with others.
If you love someone you feel it and that feeling is yours. Look at children. We still love our children when they disappoint us why not our workmates, teachers, friends and most of all partners? It's because we put conditions on what we give out.
Who hasn't bought a present or done a job around the house expecting something in return - why? If you want to help someone or give something you choose to do it because you want to, not for "Brownie Points". No other reason than just because you want to - that is showing love.
You can help an old lady with her groceries and it feels good so why not with everything else?
When you learn that giving love without expectation is the purest of all faith, then and only then, will you be on the road to really knowing yourself.
Control, fear, doubt and anger; these are the real deadly killers of the human race. We hurt ourselves by feeling these emotions and we hurt others by directing these emotions at them.
But what if we could direct unconditional love to whomever we meet? What then? Could we help the world be a better place? Maybe, maybe not but we'd certainly help ourselves. Why do we let other people hurt us? Because we put expectations on them, expectations that we ourselves have failed to live up to with others.
If you love someone you feel it and that feeling is yours. Look at children. We still love our children when they disappoint us why not our workmates, teachers, friends and most of all partners? It's because we put conditions on what we give out.
Who hasn't bought a present or done a job around the house expecting something in return - why? If you want to help someone or give something you choose to do it because you want to, not for "Brownie Points". No other reason than just because you want to - that is showing love.
You can help an old lady with her groceries and it feels good so why not with everything else?
When you learn that giving love without expectation is the purest of all faith, then and only then, will you be on the road to really knowing yourself.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
February 1, 2007
Getting to the Core of the matter…
A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night's dinner. In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of apples.
Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly missed boarding.
ALL BUT ONE !!!
He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings, and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned. He told his buddies to go on without him, waved goodbye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor.
He was glad he did.
The 16 year old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her, no one stopping and no one to care for her plight.
The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket.
When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, "Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are you okay?" She nodded through her tears. He continued on with, "I hope we didn't spoil your day too badly."
As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him, "Mister." He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes. She continued, "Are you Jesus?"
He stopped in midst, and he wondered. Then slowly he made his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his soul: "Are you Jesus?"
Do people mistake you for Jesus? That's our destiny, is it not? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world that is blind to His love, life and grace.
If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would.
Getting to the Core of the matter…
A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night's dinner. In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these salesmen inadvertently kicked over a table which held a display of apples.
Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly missed boarding.
ALL BUT ONE !!!
He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings, and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple stand had been overturned. He told his buddies to go on without him, waved goodbye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor.
He was glad he did.
The 16 year old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her, no one stopping and no one to care for her plight.
The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket.
When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, "Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are you okay?" She nodded through her tears. He continued on with, "I hope we didn't spoil your day too badly."
As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him, "Mister." He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes. She continued, "Are you Jesus?"
He stopped in midst, and he wondered. Then slowly he made his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his soul: "Are you Jesus?"
Do people mistake you for Jesus? That's our destiny, is it not? To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world that is blind to His love, life and grace.
If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
January 30, 2007
WET PANTS
Come with me to a third grade classroom.....
There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet.
He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it.
When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.
The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now!
Five minutes from now I'm dead meat."
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.
As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!" Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You've done enough, you klutz!"
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."
May God help us see the opportunities that are always around us to do good. Remember.....Just going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.
Each and everyone one of us are going through tough times right now, but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. Keep the faith.
WET PANTS
Come with me to a third grade classroom.....
There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet.
He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it.
When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.
The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now!
Five minutes from now I'm dead meat."
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.
As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!" Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You've done enough, you klutz!"
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."
May God help us see the opportunities that are always around us to do good. Remember.....Just going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.
Each and everyone one of us are going through tough times right now, but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. Keep the faith.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
January 24, 2007
New Pair of Shoes
Author Unknown
When I got sober my sponsor told me that I had to be willing to change everything about my life -- everything. So, I wore bluejeans and switched to slacks. I wore western shirts and switched to T-shirts. But the one thing I just couldn't give up was my cowboy boots.
I went to my sponsor and said, "Surely I won't get drunk over a silly pair of cowboy boots. I'm willing to change a lot of things, and if needed I could even give up those boots, but it seems so silly." My sponsor said, "I don't know how silly it is, or if you'll get drunk over those cowboy boots, but I can tell that you are not 'entirely' willing, though."
"Okay, okay," I said. "I'll prove it to you. I'll give up the boots for 30 days just to demonstrate my willingness to God." So, I bought a pair of tennis shoes, and after 30 days of not wearing my cowboy boots, wearing tennis shoes instead, the strangest thing happened -- my feet stopped hurting. That's how it was getting sober and giving up the high life. I never stopped to think that the boots were causing my feet to hurt, or the booze was causing my life to hurt. I got willing to give up the stuff, one day at a time, for 30 days, then 60 days, then 90 days ... and my life stopped hurting.
And everyday I do something different, some change in some small way. Maybe I just put my socks on different, or drive to work a new way. Everyday, I try to do Little Things in a Big Way so that when Big Things happen I can handle them in a Little Way.
New Pair of Shoes
Author Unknown
When I got sober my sponsor told me that I had to be willing to change everything about my life -- everything. So, I wore bluejeans and switched to slacks. I wore western shirts and switched to T-shirts. But the one thing I just couldn't give up was my cowboy boots.
I went to my sponsor and said, "Surely I won't get drunk over a silly pair of cowboy boots. I'm willing to change a lot of things, and if needed I could even give up those boots, but it seems so silly." My sponsor said, "I don't know how silly it is, or if you'll get drunk over those cowboy boots, but I can tell that you are not 'entirely' willing, though."
"Okay, okay," I said. "I'll prove it to you. I'll give up the boots for 30 days just to demonstrate my willingness to God." So, I bought a pair of tennis shoes, and after 30 days of not wearing my cowboy boots, wearing tennis shoes instead, the strangest thing happened -- my feet stopped hurting. That's how it was getting sober and giving up the high life. I never stopped to think that the boots were causing my feet to hurt, or the booze was causing my life to hurt. I got willing to give up the stuff, one day at a time, for 30 days, then 60 days, then 90 days ... and my life stopped hurting.
And everyday I do something different, some change in some small way. Maybe I just put my socks on different, or drive to work a new way. Everyday, I try to do Little Things in a Big Way so that when Big Things happen I can handle them in a Little Way.
Monday, January 22, 2007
January 22, 2007
The American Dollar Bill
Author Unknown
Take out an old one dollar bill and look at it. The old dollar bills, before the redesign in the late 90s, first came off the presses in 1957. This so-called paper money is in fact a cotton and linen blend, with minute red and blue silk fibers running through it. It is actually a fabric material. We've all washed one without it falling apart. A special blend of ink is used, the contents of which we will never know. It's overprinted with symbols and then it is starched to make it water resistant and pressed to give it that nice crisp look and feel.
Look on the front of the old dollar bill. You will see the United States Treasury Seal. On the top you will see the scales for the balance - a balanced budget. In the center there's a carpenter's T-square, a tool used for an even cut (not to mention for Masonic emblems, such as the all-seeing eye). Underneath is the Key to the United States Treasury. That's all pretty easy to figure out, but what is on the back of the old dollar bill is something we should all know. If you turn the bill over, you will see two circles. Both circles, together, comprise the Great Seal of the United States. The First Continental Congress requested that Benjamin Franklin and a group of men come up with a Seal. It took them four years to accomplish this task and another two years to get it approved.
If you look at the left hand circle, you will see a Pyramid. Notice the face is lighted and the western side is dark. This country was just beginning. We had not begun to explore the West or decided what we could do for Western Civilization. The Pyramid is uncapped, again signifying that we were not even close to being finished. Inside the capstone you have the all-seeing eye, and ancient symbol for divinity. It was Franklin's belief that one man couldn't do it alone, but a group of men, with the help of God, could do anything.
"IN GOD WE TRUST" is on this currency because our 16th President, Abraham Lincoln, wanted it that way. The Latin above the pyramid, ANNUIT COEPTIS, means "God has favored our undertaking." The Latin below the pyramid, NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM, means "a new order has begun." At the base of the pyramid is the Roman Numeral for 1776. If you look at the right-hand circle, and check it carefully, you will learn that it is on every National Cemetery in the United States. It is also on the Parade of Flags Walkway at the Bushnell, Florida, National Cemetery and is the centerpiece of most hero's monuments. Slightly modified, it is the seal of the President of the United States and it is always visible whenever he speaks, yet no one knows what the symbols mean.
The bald eagle was selected as a symbol for victory for two reasons: first, he is not afraid of a storm; he is strong and smart enough to soar above it. Second, he wears no material crown. We had just broken from the King of England. Also, notice that the shield is unsupported. This country can now stand on its own. The white bar at the top of the shield signifies congress, a unifying factor. We were coming together as one nation. In the eagle's beak you will read, "E PLURIBUS UNUM", meaning "one nation from many people." Above the eagle you have thirteen stars representing the thirteen original colonies, and any clouds of misunderstanding rolling away. Again, we were coming together as one. Notice what the eagle holds in his talons. He holds an olive branch and arrows. This country wants peace, but we will never be afraid to fight to preserve peace. The eagle always wants to face the olive branch, but in time of war, his gaze turns toward the arrows.
There is a superstition that the number 13 is unlucky. This is almost a worldwide belief. You will usually not see a room numbered 13, or any hotels or motels with a 13th floor. But think about this: 13 original colonies, 13 signers of the Declaration of Independence, 13 stripes on our flag, 13 steps on the Pyramid, 13 letters in the Latin above, 13 letters in "E Pluribus Unum", 13 stars above the Eagle, 13 plumes of feathers on each span of the agle's wing, 13 bars on that shield, 13 leaves on the olive branch, 13 fruits, and if you look closely, 13 arrows. And for minorities: the 13th Amendment.
I always ask people, "Why don't you know this?" Your children don't know this and their history teachers don't know it, either. Too many Americans have given up too much to ever let the meaning fade. Many veterans remember coming home to an America that didn't care. Too many veterans never came home at all. Tell everyone you know what is on the back of the one dollar bill and what it stands for, because nobody else will. It is valuable information, for all Americans, to better understand and appreciate the vision and ideals of our forefathers. Help keep their vision and memory alive.
The American Dollar Bill
Author Unknown
Take out an old one dollar bill and look at it. The old dollar bills, before the redesign in the late 90s, first came off the presses in 1957. This so-called paper money is in fact a cotton and linen blend, with minute red and blue silk fibers running through it. It is actually a fabric material. We've all washed one without it falling apart. A special blend of ink is used, the contents of which we will never know. It's overprinted with symbols and then it is starched to make it water resistant and pressed to give it that nice crisp look and feel.
Look on the front of the old dollar bill. You will see the United States Treasury Seal. On the top you will see the scales for the balance - a balanced budget. In the center there's a carpenter's T-square, a tool used for an even cut (not to mention for Masonic emblems, such as the all-seeing eye). Underneath is the Key to the United States Treasury. That's all pretty easy to figure out, but what is on the back of the old dollar bill is something we should all know. If you turn the bill over, you will see two circles. Both circles, together, comprise the Great Seal of the United States. The First Continental Congress requested that Benjamin Franklin and a group of men come up with a Seal. It took them four years to accomplish this task and another two years to get it approved.
If you look at the left hand circle, you will see a Pyramid. Notice the face is lighted and the western side is dark. This country was just beginning. We had not begun to explore the West or decided what we could do for Western Civilization. The Pyramid is uncapped, again signifying that we were not even close to being finished. Inside the capstone you have the all-seeing eye, and ancient symbol for divinity. It was Franklin's belief that one man couldn't do it alone, but a group of men, with the help of God, could do anything.
"IN GOD WE TRUST" is on this currency because our 16th President, Abraham Lincoln, wanted it that way. The Latin above the pyramid, ANNUIT COEPTIS, means "God has favored our undertaking." The Latin below the pyramid, NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM, means "a new order has begun." At the base of the pyramid is the Roman Numeral for 1776. If you look at the right-hand circle, and check it carefully, you will learn that it is on every National Cemetery in the United States. It is also on the Parade of Flags Walkway at the Bushnell, Florida, National Cemetery and is the centerpiece of most hero's monuments. Slightly modified, it is the seal of the President of the United States and it is always visible whenever he speaks, yet no one knows what the symbols mean.
The bald eagle was selected as a symbol for victory for two reasons: first, he is not afraid of a storm; he is strong and smart enough to soar above it. Second, he wears no material crown. We had just broken from the King of England. Also, notice that the shield is unsupported. This country can now stand on its own. The white bar at the top of the shield signifies congress, a unifying factor. We were coming together as one nation. In the eagle's beak you will read, "E PLURIBUS UNUM", meaning "one nation from many people." Above the eagle you have thirteen stars representing the thirteen original colonies, and any clouds of misunderstanding rolling away. Again, we were coming together as one. Notice what the eagle holds in his talons. He holds an olive branch and arrows. This country wants peace, but we will never be afraid to fight to preserve peace. The eagle always wants to face the olive branch, but in time of war, his gaze turns toward the arrows.
There is a superstition that the number 13 is unlucky. This is almost a worldwide belief. You will usually not see a room numbered 13, or any hotels or motels with a 13th floor. But think about this: 13 original colonies, 13 signers of the Declaration of Independence, 13 stripes on our flag, 13 steps on the Pyramid, 13 letters in the Latin above, 13 letters in "E Pluribus Unum", 13 stars above the Eagle, 13 plumes of feathers on each span of the agle's wing, 13 bars on that shield, 13 leaves on the olive branch, 13 fruits, and if you look closely, 13 arrows. And for minorities: the 13th Amendment.
I always ask people, "Why don't you know this?" Your children don't know this and their history teachers don't know it, either. Too many Americans have given up too much to ever let the meaning fade. Many veterans remember coming home to an America that didn't care. Too many veterans never came home at all. Tell everyone you know what is on the back of the one dollar bill and what it stands for, because nobody else will. It is valuable information, for all Americans, to better understand and appreciate the vision and ideals of our forefathers. Help keep their vision and memory alive.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
January 18, 2007
The Mountain Climber
Author Unknown
They tell the story of a mountain climber who, desperate to conquer the Aconcagua, initiated his climb after years of preparation. But he wanted the glory to himself, therefore, he went up alone. He started climbing and it was becoming later, and later. He did not prepare for camping, but decided to keep on going. Soon it got dark. Night fell with heaviness at a very high altitude. Visibility was zero. Everything was black. There was no moon, and the stars were covered by clouds.As he was climbing a ridge at about 100 meters from the top, he slipped and fell.
Falling rapidly he could only see blotches of darkness that passed. He felt a terrible sensation of being sucked in by gravity. He kept falling... and in those anguishing moments good and bad memories passed through his mind. He thought certainly he would die.But then he felt a jolt that almost tore him in half. Yes! Like any good mountain climber he had staked himself with a long rope tied to his waist. In those moments of stillness, suspended in the air he had no other choice but to shout: "HELP ME GOD. HELP ME!"
All of a sudden he heard a deep voice from heaven... "What do you want me to do?" "SAVE ME.""Do you REALLY think that I can save you?" "OF COURSE, MY GOD.""Then cut the rope that is holding you up."There was another moment of silence and stillness. The man just held tighter to the rope. The rescue team says that the next day they found a frozen mountain climber hanging strongly to a rope... TWO FEET OFF THE GROUND. ------------
How about you? How trusting are you in that rope? Why don't you let it go? I tell you, God has great and marvelous things planned for you.
CUT THE ROPE AND SIMPLY TRUST IN HIM.
The Mountain Climber
Author Unknown
They tell the story of a mountain climber who, desperate to conquer the Aconcagua, initiated his climb after years of preparation. But he wanted the glory to himself, therefore, he went up alone. He started climbing and it was becoming later, and later. He did not prepare for camping, but decided to keep on going. Soon it got dark. Night fell with heaviness at a very high altitude. Visibility was zero. Everything was black. There was no moon, and the stars were covered by clouds.As he was climbing a ridge at about 100 meters from the top, he slipped and fell.
Falling rapidly he could only see blotches of darkness that passed. He felt a terrible sensation of being sucked in by gravity. He kept falling... and in those anguishing moments good and bad memories passed through his mind. He thought certainly he would die.But then he felt a jolt that almost tore him in half. Yes! Like any good mountain climber he had staked himself with a long rope tied to his waist. In those moments of stillness, suspended in the air he had no other choice but to shout: "HELP ME GOD. HELP ME!"
All of a sudden he heard a deep voice from heaven... "What do you want me to do?" "SAVE ME.""Do you REALLY think that I can save you?" "OF COURSE, MY GOD.""Then cut the rope that is holding you up."There was another moment of silence and stillness. The man just held tighter to the rope. The rescue team says that the next day they found a frozen mountain climber hanging strongly to a rope... TWO FEET OFF THE GROUND. ------------
How about you? How trusting are you in that rope? Why don't you let it go? I tell you, God has great and marvelous things planned for you.
CUT THE ROPE AND SIMPLY TRUST IN HIM.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
January 17, 2007
KEEPERS
Author Unknown
I grew up in the 40s/50s with practical parents. A mother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a Name for it... A father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now... Dad, in trousers, tee shirt and a hat, mowing the lawn or checking the oil in the car -- Mom, in a house dress, with a child's spelling list in one hand and a cooking spoon in the other.
It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we kept.It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating leftovers, reusing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.But then my mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away... never to return. So, while we have it... it's best we love it... and care for it... and fix it when it's broken... and heal it when it's sick.This is true for marriage... and old cars... and children with bad report cards... and dogs with bad hips... and aging parents... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.
There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special... and so, we keep them close!
KEEPERS
Author Unknown
I grew up in the 40s/50s with practical parents. A mother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a Name for it... A father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now... Dad, in trousers, tee shirt and a hat, mowing the lawn or checking the oil in the car -- Mom, in a house dress, with a child's spelling list in one hand and a cooking spoon in the other.
It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we kept.It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating leftovers, reusing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.But then my mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away... never to return. So, while we have it... it's best we love it... and care for it... and fix it when it's broken... and heal it when it's sick.This is true for marriage... and old cars... and children with bad report cards... and dogs with bad hips... and aging parents... and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.
There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special... and so, we keep them close!
Monday, January 15, 2007
January 15, 2007
A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience, raised aglass of water and asked, "How heavy is this glass of water?"Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g.The lecturer replied, "The absolute weight doesn't matter.It depends on how long you try to hold it.If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem.If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm.If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance.In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes."He continued, "
And that's the way it is with stress management.If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later,as the burden becomes increasingly heavy,we won't be able to carry on.""As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again.When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.""
So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down.Don 't carry it home.You can pick it up tomorrow.Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can.Relax; pick them up later after you've rested.
Life is short. Enjoy it!"
A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience, raised aglass of water and asked, "How heavy is this glass of water?"Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g.The lecturer replied, "The absolute weight doesn't matter.It depends on how long you try to hold it.If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem.If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm.If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance.In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes."He continued, "
And that's the way it is with stress management.If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later,as the burden becomes increasingly heavy,we won't be able to carry on.""As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again.When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.""
So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down.Don 't carry it home.You can pick it up tomorrow.Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can.Relax; pick them up later after you've rested.
Life is short. Enjoy it!"
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
January 9, 2007
Don't Worry--
Author Unknown
Years ago, I was enthralled as I listened to a pastor who for several years had faithfully served the church. His executive responsibilities had taken him all over this country. As he concluded his message, he told of one of the most frightening, yet thought-provoking, experiences of his life.He had been on a long flight from one place to another. The first warning of the approaching problems came when the sign on the airplane flashed on: Fasten your seat belts. Then, after a while, a calm voice said, "We shall not be serving the beverages at this time as we are expecting a little turbulence. Please be sure your seat belt is fastened."
As he looked around the aircraft, it became obvious that many of the passengers were becoming apprehensive. Later, the voice of the announcer said, "We are so sorry that we are unable to serve the meal at this time. The turbulence is still ahead of us."Then the storm broke. The ominous cracks of thunder could be heard even above the roar of the engines. Lightening lit up the darkening skies, and within moments that great plane was like a cork tossed around on a celestial ocean. One moment the airplane was lifted on terrific currents of air; the next, it dropped as if it were about to crash.The pastor confessed that he shared the discomfort and fear of those around him.
He said, "As I looked around the plane, I could see that nearly all the passengers were upset and alarmed. Some were praying. The future seemed ominous and many were wondering if they would make it through the storm.Then, I suddenly saw a little girl. Apparently the storm meant nothing to her. She had tucked her feet beneath her as she sat on her seat; she was reading a book and every thing within her small world was calm and orderly. Sometimes she closed her eyes, then she would read again; then she would straighten her legs, but worry and fear were not in her world. When the plane was being buffeted by the terrible storm when it lurched this way and that, as it rose and fell with frightening severity,when all the adults were scared half to death, that marvelous child was completely composed and unafraid."
The minister could hardly believe his eyes.It was not surprising therefore, that when the plane finally reached its destination and all the passengers were hurrying to disembark,our pastor lingered to speak to the girl whom he had watched for such a long time. Having commented about the storm and behavior of the plane, he asked why she had not been afraid.The child replied, "'Cause my Daddy's the pilot, and he's taking me home."
There are many kinds of storms that buffet us:• Physical,• Mental,• Financial,• Domestic, and...Many other storms can easily and quickly darken our skies and throw our plane into apparently uncontrollable movement. We have all known such times, and let us be honest and confess, it is much easier to be at rest when our feet are on the ground than when we are being tossed about a darkened sky.Let us remember... Our Father is the Pilot. He is in control and taking us home... so Don't Worry.
Don't Worry--
Author Unknown
Years ago, I was enthralled as I listened to a pastor who for several years had faithfully served the church. His executive responsibilities had taken him all over this country. As he concluded his message, he told of one of the most frightening, yet thought-provoking, experiences of his life.He had been on a long flight from one place to another. The first warning of the approaching problems came when the sign on the airplane flashed on: Fasten your seat belts. Then, after a while, a calm voice said, "We shall not be serving the beverages at this time as we are expecting a little turbulence. Please be sure your seat belt is fastened."
As he looked around the aircraft, it became obvious that many of the passengers were becoming apprehensive. Later, the voice of the announcer said, "We are so sorry that we are unable to serve the meal at this time. The turbulence is still ahead of us."Then the storm broke. The ominous cracks of thunder could be heard even above the roar of the engines. Lightening lit up the darkening skies, and within moments that great plane was like a cork tossed around on a celestial ocean. One moment the airplane was lifted on terrific currents of air; the next, it dropped as if it were about to crash.The pastor confessed that he shared the discomfort and fear of those around him.
He said, "As I looked around the plane, I could see that nearly all the passengers were upset and alarmed. Some were praying. The future seemed ominous and many were wondering if they would make it through the storm.Then, I suddenly saw a little girl. Apparently the storm meant nothing to her. She had tucked her feet beneath her as she sat on her seat; she was reading a book and every thing within her small world was calm and orderly. Sometimes she closed her eyes, then she would read again; then she would straighten her legs, but worry and fear were not in her world. When the plane was being buffeted by the terrible storm when it lurched this way and that, as it rose and fell with frightening severity,when all the adults were scared half to death, that marvelous child was completely composed and unafraid."
The minister could hardly believe his eyes.It was not surprising therefore, that when the plane finally reached its destination and all the passengers were hurrying to disembark,our pastor lingered to speak to the girl whom he had watched for such a long time. Having commented about the storm and behavior of the plane, he asked why she had not been afraid.The child replied, "'Cause my Daddy's the pilot, and he's taking me home."
There are many kinds of storms that buffet us:• Physical,• Mental,• Financial,• Domestic, and...Many other storms can easily and quickly darken our skies and throw our plane into apparently uncontrollable movement. We have all known such times, and let us be honest and confess, it is much easier to be at rest when our feet are on the ground than when we are being tossed about a darkened sky.Let us remember... Our Father is the Pilot. He is in control and taking us home... so Don't Worry.
Monday, January 08, 2007
January 8, 2007
The Brick
Author Unknown
A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar.He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door!He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown.
The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?"The young boy was apologetic."Please, mister... please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do," He pleaded. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop... " With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car."It's my brother," he said. "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts.A quick look told him everything was going to be okay."Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger.Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.
It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar.The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message."Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!"God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts.
Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice to listen or not.
The Brick
Author Unknown
A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar.He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door!He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown.
The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?"The young boy was apologetic."Please, mister... please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do," He pleaded. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop... " With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car."It's my brother," he said. "He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts.A quick look told him everything was going to be okay."Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger.Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.
It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar.The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message."Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!"God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts.
Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice to listen or not.
Friday, January 05, 2007
January 5, 2007
The geneticist and his clone
A geneticist and his assistant had been working on 30 years on a cloning project. Finally the day come when the assistant said, "It's been great, but I think it's time for me to retire." The geneticist told him, "But we're almost finished with this experiment, could you wait another year?""No sir, my mind's made up. It's been good working with you," came the reply, as the assistant began packing his things.
The geneticst grew frantic. "But I can't complete my work without you! Could you at least stay until I have made a clone of you?"The assistant pondered on this for a few moments, and then agreed. It wasn't very long before the geneticst was able to successfully create an identical clone of the assistant. His assistant left as scheduled, and the clone took over the duties.
All was good, except for one minor flaw: the clone swore worse than a drunken sailor. Time and time again, the geneticst tried to reprimand the clone on his behavior, but it was no use. The more reprimands the clone recieved, the more foul his language would become.Finally, the geneticst got an idea. "Come with me...we'll go out to my cabin in the woods, and we can spend a weekend to just get away from it all."
A few days later, they set off on their trip, with no sign of civilization for miles around.The geneticst had hoped to use the peace and beauty of nature to snap the clone out of his language problems. But the plan failed. On one of their hikes, as they were nearing the mountain top, the clone started to spew forth insults so severe that even the most weathered sailor would have blushed. The geneticst had enough and yelled at the clone, "What am I going to do with you?! You can't go on like this, with your constant flow of insults! Stop it NOW!"
The clone was startled, because in all this time, the geneticst had never once raised his voice. So startled, in fact, that he lost his grip and fell down...down...down the mountainside.The geneticst felt badly, and started the climb down the slope, hoping that things wouldn't be too bad. But it was worse than he feared. Several rangers had seen the man fall, and there was no hope for the clone. He had suffered fatal injuries, and was pronounced dead at the scene.
The geneticst was eventually found guilty of making an obscene clone fall.
The geneticist and his clone
A geneticist and his assistant had been working on 30 years on a cloning project. Finally the day come when the assistant said, "It's been great, but I think it's time for me to retire." The geneticist told him, "But we're almost finished with this experiment, could you wait another year?""No sir, my mind's made up. It's been good working with you," came the reply, as the assistant began packing his things.
The geneticst grew frantic. "But I can't complete my work without you! Could you at least stay until I have made a clone of you?"The assistant pondered on this for a few moments, and then agreed. It wasn't very long before the geneticst was able to successfully create an identical clone of the assistant. His assistant left as scheduled, and the clone took over the duties.
All was good, except for one minor flaw: the clone swore worse than a drunken sailor. Time and time again, the geneticst tried to reprimand the clone on his behavior, but it was no use. The more reprimands the clone recieved, the more foul his language would become.Finally, the geneticst got an idea. "Come with me...we'll go out to my cabin in the woods, and we can spend a weekend to just get away from it all."
A few days later, they set off on their trip, with no sign of civilization for miles around.The geneticst had hoped to use the peace and beauty of nature to snap the clone out of his language problems. But the plan failed. On one of their hikes, as they were nearing the mountain top, the clone started to spew forth insults so severe that even the most weathered sailor would have blushed. The geneticst had enough and yelled at the clone, "What am I going to do with you?! You can't go on like this, with your constant flow of insults! Stop it NOW!"
The clone was startled, because in all this time, the geneticst had never once raised his voice. So startled, in fact, that he lost his grip and fell down...down...down the mountainside.The geneticst felt badly, and started the climb down the slope, hoping that things wouldn't be too bad. But it was worse than he feared. Several rangers had seen the man fall, and there was no hope for the clone. He had suffered fatal injuries, and was pronounced dead at the scene.
The geneticst was eventually found guilty of making an obscene clone fall.
Pick of the Week - Failure List of the Famous
Einstein was 4 years old before he could speak.
Iassc Newton did poorly in grade school and was considered "unpromising."
When Thomas Edison was a youngster, his teacher told him he was too stupid to learn anything. He was counseled to go into a field where he might succeed by virtue of his pleasant personality.
F.W. Woolworth got a job in a dry goods store when he was 21, but his boss would not permit him to wait on customers because he "didn't have enough sense to close a sale."
Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. Bob Cousy suffered the same fate, but he too is a Hall of Famer.
A newspaper editor fired Walt Disney because he "lacked imagination and had no original ideas."
Winston Churchill failed the 6th grade and had to repeat it because he did not complete the tests that were required for promotion.
Babe Ruth struck out 1,300 times, a major league record.
A person may make mistakes, but is not a failure until he or she starts blaming someone else. We must believe in ourselves, and somewhere along the road of life we will meet someone who sees greatness in us and lets us know it.
Einstein was 4 years old before he could speak.
Iassc Newton did poorly in grade school and was considered "unpromising."
When Thomas Edison was a youngster, his teacher told him he was too stupid to learn anything. He was counseled to go into a field where he might succeed by virtue of his pleasant personality.
F.W. Woolworth got a job in a dry goods store when he was 21, but his boss would not permit him to wait on customers because he "didn't have enough sense to close a sale."
Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team. Bob Cousy suffered the same fate, but he too is a Hall of Famer.
A newspaper editor fired Walt Disney because he "lacked imagination and had no original ideas."
Winston Churchill failed the 6th grade and had to repeat it because he did not complete the tests that were required for promotion.
Babe Ruth struck out 1,300 times, a major league record.
A person may make mistakes, but is not a failure until he or she starts blaming someone else. We must believe in ourselves, and somewhere along the road of life we will meet someone who sees greatness in us and lets us know it.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
January 4, 2007
In God We Trust-- Lincoln Speaks to America
By Hong Min Zou
My fellow countrymen, what has happened to our great nation since my death? My heart is heavy over what I see. What has happened to the presence of God, to the sanctity of life, the family, equality of man, the values that our fellow countrymen died for so gloriously on the field of battle? America, you have turned your back on God the Almighty, the Creator. The nation has replaced their dependence upon God and His holy principles with an independent spirit that portrays man as sufficient unto himself. Any nation that is not Godly is by nature ungodly and shall be punished. You have become a nation that does not obey the voice of the Lord. The nation has become like faithless Israel in the days of the prophet Jeremiah.
The last Congressional act I signed was to have the words "In God We Trust" inscribed on all of our national currency to remind our fellow countrymen of the blessing the merciful Father has showered upon this nation. More than 10,000 books have been written about me. I understand that I am the most quoted American in history and that I used more scriptural references in my speeches than any other U.S. President. Yet, I was but a humble instrument in the hands of our Heavenly Father, as we all are, trying to work out His great purposes. I have desired that all my works and acts be done according to His will. It is fitting and proper that you now heed my word.
Much debate and volumes of material have been written about my religious convictions. I considered myself a Godly man. I read the Bible and lived by the Ten Commandments. Although I did all those things, I did not have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ until November 19, 1863, after my Gettysburg Address. I once was asked, " Do you love Jesus?" by a minister from Illinois just a few short months before my death. I solemnly replied, "When I left Springfield, I asked the people to pray for me. I was not a Christian. When I buried my son, the severest trial of my life, I was not a Christian. But, when I went to Gettysburg, and saw the graves of thousands of our soldiers, I then and there consecrated my life to Christ. Yes, I do love Jesus."
I recall another conversation I had at the White house with a lady who was a member of the Christian Commission. I asked her to give me, in brief, her idea of what constitutes a true religious experience. The lady stated that, in her judgement, "it consisted of a conviction of one's own sinfulness and weakness, and a personal need of the Saviour for strength and support; a feeling of the need of divine help, and a seeking of the aid of the Holy Spirit for strength and guidance; that these were a satisfactory evidence of having been born again." I was silent and thoughtful. After a few moments, I said, very earnestly: "If what you have told me is really a correct view of this great subject, I think I can say with sincerity that I hope I am a Christian. I had lived until my boy, Willie, died without realizing fully these things. That blow overwhelmed me. It showed me my weakness as I had never felt it before, and if I can take what you have stated as a test, I think I can safely say that I know something of that change of which you speak; and I will further add, that it has been my intention for some time, at a suitable opportunity, to make a public religious profession."
Do you understand, America, that "In God We Trust" was so important to me as your Country's leader, I declared July 7, 1864 to be a National Day of Prayer. You see, "I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My wisdom and that of those all around me seemed insufficient for that day."I trusted the Lord to answer my prayers and those of my countrymen. He mercifully did! So, on October 20, 1864, I declared that the last Thursday in November be a National Day of Thanksgiving. "It is the duty of nations as well as of men to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God... and to recognize the sublime truth announced in the Holy Scriptures and proved by all history, that those nations only are blest whose God is the Lord."
I am reminded in 2 Chronicles 7:14 which says: "If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray, and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."My fellow countrymen, the "judgements of the Lord are true and righteous." We should obey and not oppose God's will. Let us as a nation humble ourselves in the dust, and ask forgiveness for the sinful ways of this once great nation. Ask Jesus the Saviour for wisdom and repent, for we have nowhere else to go. Let us again place our trust in God.
In God We Trust-- Lincoln Speaks to America
By Hong Min Zou
My fellow countrymen, what has happened to our great nation since my death? My heart is heavy over what I see. What has happened to the presence of God, to the sanctity of life, the family, equality of man, the values that our fellow countrymen died for so gloriously on the field of battle? America, you have turned your back on God the Almighty, the Creator. The nation has replaced their dependence upon God and His holy principles with an independent spirit that portrays man as sufficient unto himself. Any nation that is not Godly is by nature ungodly and shall be punished. You have become a nation that does not obey the voice of the Lord. The nation has become like faithless Israel in the days of the prophet Jeremiah.
The last Congressional act I signed was to have the words "In God We Trust" inscribed on all of our national currency to remind our fellow countrymen of the blessing the merciful Father has showered upon this nation. More than 10,000 books have been written about me. I understand that I am the most quoted American in history and that I used more scriptural references in my speeches than any other U.S. President. Yet, I was but a humble instrument in the hands of our Heavenly Father, as we all are, trying to work out His great purposes. I have desired that all my works and acts be done according to His will. It is fitting and proper that you now heed my word.
Much debate and volumes of material have been written about my religious convictions. I considered myself a Godly man. I read the Bible and lived by the Ten Commandments. Although I did all those things, I did not have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ until November 19, 1863, after my Gettysburg Address. I once was asked, " Do you love Jesus?" by a minister from Illinois just a few short months before my death. I solemnly replied, "When I left Springfield, I asked the people to pray for me. I was not a Christian. When I buried my son, the severest trial of my life, I was not a Christian. But, when I went to Gettysburg, and saw the graves of thousands of our soldiers, I then and there consecrated my life to Christ. Yes, I do love Jesus."
I recall another conversation I had at the White house with a lady who was a member of the Christian Commission. I asked her to give me, in brief, her idea of what constitutes a true religious experience. The lady stated that, in her judgement, "it consisted of a conviction of one's own sinfulness and weakness, and a personal need of the Saviour for strength and support; a feeling of the need of divine help, and a seeking of the aid of the Holy Spirit for strength and guidance; that these were a satisfactory evidence of having been born again." I was silent and thoughtful. After a few moments, I said, very earnestly: "If what you have told me is really a correct view of this great subject, I think I can say with sincerity that I hope I am a Christian. I had lived until my boy, Willie, died without realizing fully these things. That blow overwhelmed me. It showed me my weakness as I had never felt it before, and if I can take what you have stated as a test, I think I can safely say that I know something of that change of which you speak; and I will further add, that it has been my intention for some time, at a suitable opportunity, to make a public religious profession."
Do you understand, America, that "In God We Trust" was so important to me as your Country's leader, I declared July 7, 1864 to be a National Day of Prayer. You see, "I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My wisdom and that of those all around me seemed insufficient for that day."I trusted the Lord to answer my prayers and those of my countrymen. He mercifully did! So, on October 20, 1864, I declared that the last Thursday in November be a National Day of Thanksgiving. "It is the duty of nations as well as of men to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God... and to recognize the sublime truth announced in the Holy Scriptures and proved by all history, that those nations only are blest whose God is the Lord."
I am reminded in 2 Chronicles 7:14 which says: "If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray, and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."My fellow countrymen, the "judgements of the Lord are true and righteous." We should obey and not oppose God's will. Let us as a nation humble ourselves in the dust, and ask forgiveness for the sinful ways of this once great nation. Ask Jesus the Saviour for wisdom and repent, for we have nowhere else to go. Let us again place our trust in God.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
December 20, 2006
Here's the poem you heard from Bryan Duncan on the morning show today.......
Here’s a little note to leave for your someone special, along with some marshmallows……
We’ve heard that you’ve been naughty
So listen, here’s the scoop.
We’re running short on coal this year,
So you get Snowman Poop!
From
Santa
Here's the poem you heard from Bryan Duncan on the morning show today.......
Here’s a little note to leave for your someone special, along with some marshmallows……
We’ve heard that you’ve been naughty
So listen, here’s the scoop.
We’re running short on coal this year,
So you get Snowman Poop!
From
Santa
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
December 19, 2006
Dear Children, It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was some of your predecessors who decided to celebrate My birthday on what was actually a time of pagan festival. Although, I do appreciate being remembered anytime. How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth just, GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
Now, having said that let Me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town. Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching, explaining who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks were. If you have forgotten that one, look up John 15: 1 - 8.
If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it:
1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.
2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.
3. Instead of writing George complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.
4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the Story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.
5. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.
6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile it could make the difference.
7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families.
8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love and Good News to those who have never heard My name.
9. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Salvation Army or some other charity which believes in Me and they will make the delivery for you.
10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine. Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court.
And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love and remember me"
I LOVE YOU,
JESUS
Dear Children, It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was some of your predecessors who decided to celebrate My birthday on what was actually a time of pagan festival. Although, I do appreciate being remembered anytime. How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth just, GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
Now, having said that let Me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town. Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching, explaining who I am in relation to you and what each of our tasks were. If you have forgotten that one, look up John 15: 1 - 8.
If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it:
1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.
2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.
3. Instead of writing George complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.
4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the Story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.
5. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.
6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile it could make the difference.
7. Instead of nit picking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a "Merry Christmas" that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families.
8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love and Good News to those who have never heard My name.
9. Here's a good one. There are individuals and whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them, buy some food and a few gifts and give them to the Salvation Army or some other charity which believes in Me and they will make the delivery for you.
10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine. Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me and do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above and get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court.
And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love and remember me"
I LOVE YOU,
JESUS
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
December 13, 2006 - Story of Rudolph
On a December night in Chicago, a little girl climbed onto her father's lap and asked a question. It was a simple question, asked in children's curiosity, yet it had a heart-rending effect on Robert May. "Daddy," four-year old Barbara asked, "Why isn't my Mommy just like everybody else's mommy?" Bob May stole a glance across his shabby two room apartment. On a couch lay his young wife, Evelyn, racked with cancer. For two years she had been bedridden; for two years, all Bob's income and smaller savings had gone to pay for treatments and medicines.
The terrible ordeal already had shattered two adult lives. Now Bob suddenly realized the happiness of his growing daughter was also in jeopardy.
As he ran his fingers through Barbara's hair, he prayed for some satisfactory answer to her question. Bob May knew only too well what it meant to be "different." As a child he had been weak and delicate. With the innocent cruelty of children, his playmates had continually goaded the stunted, skinny lad to tears. Later at Dartmouth, from which he was graduated in 1926, Bob May was so small that he was always being mistaken for someone's little brother.
Nor was his adult life much happier. Unlike many of his classmates who floated from college into plush jobs, Bob became a lowly copy writer for Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. Now at 33, Bob was deep in debt, depressed and sad.
Although Bob did not know it at the time, the answer he gave the tousled haired child on his lap was to bring him to fame and fortune. It was also to bring joy to countless thousands of children like his own Barbara. On that December night in the shabby Chicago apartment, Bob cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began to tell a story.
"Once upon a time there was a reindeer named Rudolph, the only reindeer in the world that had a big red nose. Naturally people called him Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." As Bob went on to tell about Rudolph, he tried desperately to communicate to Barbara the knowledge that, even though some creatures of God are strange and different, they often enjoy the miraculous power to make others happy. Rudolph, Bob explained, was terribly embarrassed by his unique nose. Other reindeer laughed at him; his mother and father and sister were mortified too.
Even Rudolph wallowed in self pity.
"Well," continued Bob, "one Christmas Eve, Santa Claus got his team of husky reindeer -Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixon ready for their yearly trip around the world. The entire reindeer community assembled to cheer these great heroes on their way. But a terrible fog engulfed the earth that evening, and Santa knew that the mist was so thick he wouldn't be able to find any chimney. Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever. Santa sensed at once that here was the answer to his perplexing problem. He led Rudolph to the front of the sleigh, fastened the harness and climbed in.
They were off! Rudolph guided Santa safely to every chimney that night. Rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph, for his bright nose penetrated the mist like a beacon.
And so it was that Rudolph became the most famous and beloved of all the reindeer. The huge red nose he once hid in shame was now the envy of every buck and doe in the reindeer world. Santa Claus told everyone that Rudolph had saved the day and from that Christmas, Rudolph has been living serenely and happy."
Little Barbara laughed with glee when her father finished. Every night she begged him to repeat the tale until finally Bob could rattle it off in his sleep. Then, at Christmas time he decided to make the story into a poem like "The Night Before Christmas" and prepare it in bookish form illustrated with pictures, for Barbara's personal gift. Night after night, Bob worked on the verses after Barbara had gone to bed for he was determined his daughter should have a worthwhile gift, even though he could not afford to buy one...
Then as Bob was about to put the finishing touches on Rudolph, tragedy struck.
Evelyn May died. Bob, his hopes crushed, turned to Barbara as chief comfort. Yet, despite his grief, he sat at his desk in the quiet, now lonely apartment, and worked on "Rudolph" with tears in his eyes. Shortly after Barbara had cried with joy over his handmade gift on Christmas morning, Bob was asked to an employee's holiday party at Montgomery Wards. He didn't want to go, but his office associates insisted. When Bob finally agreed, he took with him the poem and read it to the crowd. First the noisy throng listened in laughter and gaiety. Then they became silent, and at the end, broke into spontaneous applause.
That was in 1938.
By Christmas of 1947, some 6 million copies of the booklet had been given away or sold, making Rudolph one of the most widely distributed books in the world. The demand for Rudolph sponsored products, increased so much in variety and number that educators and historians predicted Rudolph would come to occupy a permanent place in the Christmas legend.
On a December night in Chicago, a little girl climbed onto her father's lap and asked a question. It was a simple question, asked in children's curiosity, yet it had a heart-rending effect on Robert May. "Daddy," four-year old Barbara asked, "Why isn't my Mommy just like everybody else's mommy?" Bob May stole a glance across his shabby two room apartment. On a couch lay his young wife, Evelyn, racked with cancer. For two years she had been bedridden; for two years, all Bob's income and smaller savings had gone to pay for treatments and medicines.
The terrible ordeal already had shattered two adult lives. Now Bob suddenly realized the happiness of his growing daughter was also in jeopardy.
As he ran his fingers through Barbara's hair, he prayed for some satisfactory answer to her question. Bob May knew only too well what it meant to be "different." As a child he had been weak and delicate. With the innocent cruelty of children, his playmates had continually goaded the stunted, skinny lad to tears. Later at Dartmouth, from which he was graduated in 1926, Bob May was so small that he was always being mistaken for someone's little brother.
Nor was his adult life much happier. Unlike many of his classmates who floated from college into plush jobs, Bob became a lowly copy writer for Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. Now at 33, Bob was deep in debt, depressed and sad.
Although Bob did not know it at the time, the answer he gave the tousled haired child on his lap was to bring him to fame and fortune. It was also to bring joy to countless thousands of children like his own Barbara. On that December night in the shabby Chicago apartment, Bob cradled his little girl's head against his shoulder and began to tell a story.
"Once upon a time there was a reindeer named Rudolph, the only reindeer in the world that had a big red nose. Naturally people called him Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." As Bob went on to tell about Rudolph, he tried desperately to communicate to Barbara the knowledge that, even though some creatures of God are strange and different, they often enjoy the miraculous power to make others happy. Rudolph, Bob explained, was terribly embarrassed by his unique nose. Other reindeer laughed at him; his mother and father and sister were mortified too.
Even Rudolph wallowed in self pity.
"Well," continued Bob, "one Christmas Eve, Santa Claus got his team of husky reindeer -Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and Vixon ready for their yearly trip around the world. The entire reindeer community assembled to cheer these great heroes on their way. But a terrible fog engulfed the earth that evening, and Santa knew that the mist was so thick he wouldn't be able to find any chimney. Suddenly Rudolph appeared, his red nose glowing brighter than ever. Santa sensed at once that here was the answer to his perplexing problem. He led Rudolph to the front of the sleigh, fastened the harness and climbed in.
They were off! Rudolph guided Santa safely to every chimney that night. Rain and fog, snow and sleet; nothing bothered Rudolph, for his bright nose penetrated the mist like a beacon.
And so it was that Rudolph became the most famous and beloved of all the reindeer. The huge red nose he once hid in shame was now the envy of every buck and doe in the reindeer world. Santa Claus told everyone that Rudolph had saved the day and from that Christmas, Rudolph has been living serenely and happy."
Little Barbara laughed with glee when her father finished. Every night she begged him to repeat the tale until finally Bob could rattle it off in his sleep. Then, at Christmas time he decided to make the story into a poem like "The Night Before Christmas" and prepare it in bookish form illustrated with pictures, for Barbara's personal gift. Night after night, Bob worked on the verses after Barbara had gone to bed for he was determined his daughter should have a worthwhile gift, even though he could not afford to buy one...
Then as Bob was about to put the finishing touches on Rudolph, tragedy struck.
Evelyn May died. Bob, his hopes crushed, turned to Barbara as chief comfort. Yet, despite his grief, he sat at his desk in the quiet, now lonely apartment, and worked on "Rudolph" with tears in his eyes. Shortly after Barbara had cried with joy over his handmade gift on Christmas morning, Bob was asked to an employee's holiday party at Montgomery Wards. He didn't want to go, but his office associates insisted. When Bob finally agreed, he took with him the poem and read it to the crowd. First the noisy throng listened in laughter and gaiety. Then they became silent, and at the end, broke into spontaneous applause.
That was in 1938.
By Christmas of 1947, some 6 million copies of the booklet had been given away or sold, making Rudolph one of the most widely distributed books in the world. The demand for Rudolph sponsored products, increased so much in variety and number that educators and historians predicted Rudolph would come to occupy a permanent place in the Christmas legend.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
December 11, 2006 - The White Envelope
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of ourChristmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It haspeeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get atie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin,who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters,dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys intheir spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team waswrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.
Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weightclass. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have alot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse.
That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more.Each of our children, unbeknown to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always. God Bless! -- and may you find a white envelope on your tree this year!
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of ourChristmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It haspeeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get atie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin,who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters,dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys intheir spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team waswrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.
Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weightclass. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have alot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse.
That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more.Each of our children, unbeknown to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always. God Bless! -- and may you find a white envelope on your tree this year!
Friday, December 01, 2006
December 1, 2006
Forrest Gump's Entrance Exam-- Author Unknown
Forrest Gump dies and goes to Heaven, where he is met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter himself. The gates are closed, however, and Forrest approaches the gatekeeper. St. Peter says "Well, Forrest, it's certainly good to see you. We've heard so many good things about you. I must inform you, though, the place is filling up fast, and we've been giving an entrance exam to everyone. The quiz is short, but you need to pass it before you can get into Heaven.
Forrest responds, "It shore is good to be here, St. Peter. I was looking forward to this. But, nobody ever told me about any entrance exam. Sure hope the test ain't too hard; Life was a big enough test as it was." St. Peter goes on... "I know, Forrest, but the test is only three questions and you can have the night to think about it. So, here it is:1. What days of the week begin with the letter T? 2. How many seconds are there in a year? ... and...3. What is God's first name?"Forrest goes away to think the questions over.
He returns the next day and goes up to St. Peter to try to answer all three questions. St. Peter waves him up and says, "Now that you've had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers."Forrest says, "Well, the first one, how many days of the week begin with the letter T? Shucks, that one's easy. That'd be Today and Tomorrow."The Saint's eyes open wide and he exclaims "Forrest! That's not what I was thinking... but, you do have a point though, and I guess I didn't specify, so I'll give you credit for that answer. How about the next one? How many seconds are in a year?"
"Now, that one's harder" says Forrest, "but I thought and thought about that, and I guess the only answer can be twelve."Astounded, St. Peter says "Twelve! Twelve!? Forrest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?"Forest says, "Aw, come on, St. Peter, there's gotta be twelve. January second, and February second, and March second...""Hold it" interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you're going, and I guess I see your point, but that wasn't what I had in mind. But, I'll give you credit for that one, too.
Now, let's go on with the final question. Can you tell me God's first name?"Forrest quickly replied, "Andy."Again, St. Peter asked, "How in the world did you come up with Andy?" Forrest smiled and said, "You know, St. Peter, from that song we all sing in church...
"Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me."
Forrest Gump's Entrance Exam-- Author Unknown
Forrest Gump dies and goes to Heaven, where he is met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter himself. The gates are closed, however, and Forrest approaches the gatekeeper. St. Peter says "Well, Forrest, it's certainly good to see you. We've heard so many good things about you. I must inform you, though, the place is filling up fast, and we've been giving an entrance exam to everyone. The quiz is short, but you need to pass it before you can get into Heaven.
Forrest responds, "It shore is good to be here, St. Peter. I was looking forward to this. But, nobody ever told me about any entrance exam. Sure hope the test ain't too hard; Life was a big enough test as it was." St. Peter goes on... "I know, Forrest, but the test is only three questions and you can have the night to think about it. So, here it is:1. What days of the week begin with the letter T? 2. How many seconds are there in a year? ... and...3. What is God's first name?"Forrest goes away to think the questions over.
He returns the next day and goes up to St. Peter to try to answer all three questions. St. Peter waves him up and says, "Now that you've had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers."Forrest says, "Well, the first one, how many days of the week begin with the letter T? Shucks, that one's easy. That'd be Today and Tomorrow."The Saint's eyes open wide and he exclaims "Forrest! That's not what I was thinking... but, you do have a point though, and I guess I didn't specify, so I'll give you credit for that answer. How about the next one? How many seconds are in a year?"
"Now, that one's harder" says Forrest, "but I thought and thought about that, and I guess the only answer can be twelve."Astounded, St. Peter says "Twelve! Twelve!? Forrest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?"Forest says, "Aw, come on, St. Peter, there's gotta be twelve. January second, and February second, and March second...""Hold it" interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you're going, and I guess I see your point, but that wasn't what I had in mind. But, I'll give you credit for that one, too.
Now, let's go on with the final question. Can you tell me God's first name?"Forrest quickly replied, "Andy."Again, St. Peter asked, "How in the world did you come up with Andy?" Forrest smiled and said, "You know, St. Peter, from that song we all sing in church...
"Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me."
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