Updated: September 25/2008
I always know God won't give me more than I can handle, but there are times I wish He didn't trust me quite so much.
Take Note Stories posted here are not meant to break any copyrights but rather to be shared. If your story appears here and you would like it removed, please email me at boubou358@hotmail.com
It's powerful! Click on the link below and put your speakers on. "New" George Jones song. Click here >> 50,000 or here: http://mywebpages.comcast.net:80/singingman7/TNOTW.htm
You gotta drive that train-beautiful http://www.allright.com/Poems/TOLRailway/TOL.htm
TOGETHER we can make a world of difference ...
http://www.blueribbonmovie.com/
www.BlueRibbonMovie.com
Patient Heart
http://www.poetrybyken.com/lpoems31/Patient%20Heart.html
The Counsel Of The Lord
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/counselofthelord.html
Click on "train ride". This is quite beautiful.
Sit back, relax, turn up
your speakers and click on the link below.
Click here:
http://www.MakeADifference.com/U/?10711
A SONG FROM A SOLDIER IN IRAQ. This loads fast, so watch and listen. This guy could probably land a recording contract when he comes home! http://www.flashdemo.net/gallery/wake/index.htm
The Finding Joy Movie - http://www.thejoymovie.com/
Click Here to view the movie - http://www.excellencemovie.com/
http://www.secretsofadulthood.com/
http://www.theyearsareshort.com/
What would you say if giving your last lecture? Listen to this valuable lesson… http://conservablogs.com/dpgi/?p=170
Just click on the link below and...enjoy! Click Here - http://theblueskymovie.com/?SRC=MIAM080812
Index
A Coke and a Smile May 23/06
A father is... June 11/07
A Father's Greatest Goal Sept 14/07
a Friend does most or all of these
A GIFT GIVEN IS A GIFT RECEIVED Dec 10/07
A House Is A House Until... July 21/07
A KEEPER Dec 29/07
A KIND OF DEVOTION YOU'LL NEVER REGRET May 17/07
A Promise of Tomorrow April 25/08
A Smile Will Do March 12/08
Abundance Nov 3/07
ABC's of Christmas December 16/06
ABC's of a purposeful life July 22/08
Act and See What Happens November 28/06
(An) Act of Kindness April 24/07
ACTING THANKFUL April 4/07
Advice to Daughter June 5/07
Ah, There You Are November 20
ALL HE EVER WANTED June 14/07
All he had to Offer June 22/07
ALL HER CHILDREN March 19/08
All just part of my job! April 15/08
All Your Strength May 16/06
Always believe in MIRACLES December 15/06
ALWAYS GRATEFUL May 3/07
Always have hope Oct 26/07
Always here, but never been before! April 17/06
Amazing Pictures Sept 26/07
Amen Crackers Juluy 22/08
An Adventure with Grandma December 14/06
Anchors Away! November 17/06
And its winter before we know it.... Nov 6/07
Angel at Midnight Nov 17/07
ANGEL IN AN INFERNO Oct 30/07
Angel of Roses Oct 12/07
Angels on Earth Sept 25/06
Angels, Once in a While December 7/06
Animals that Grow from Sponges March 4/08
Anne Graham's Interview April 9/06
ANNIVERSARY PRESENT Nov 1/07
Another Day Gone July 17/08
Anonymous Flowers Never Fail July 6/07
(The) Ant and the Contact Lens
APPLES Dec 3/07
Appreciate What You Have October 25/06
appreciating what we have May 25/07
APRIL LOVE April 7/08
Aprons December 13/06
Are there Angels April 27/06
Are You a Bucket-Filler or a Dipper Aug 7/08
Are You A Rock August 7/07
Are Your Blessings Visible April 30/07
AREN'T WE LUCKY August 18/07
Arms of a Mother July 22/08
A.S.A.P. March 19/07
As Old as I Used to Be August 18/06
Attitude Dec 12/07
Attitude is Everything! July 10/06
(The) Autograph July 30/08
Autumn Leaves Sept 11/06
(The) Awakening Sept 22/07
(The) Baby May 16/08
Baby, I’m Back: True Tales of Near-Death Experiences Oct 3/07
BABY BOOMER DREAMS April 14/07
Back Before Automatic Dryers July 17/08
BACK FROM DESPAIR Aug 21/08
BAD MAN March 19/08
Bag of Kindness March 10/08
Baggy Yellow Shirt April 7/08
BALANCE OF LIFE March 24/07
Be Still With God July 30/08
Bologna Sandwiches April 15/08
(The) Bamboo Tree November 9/06
Bands of Love July 30/08
Barefoot Angel Feb 8/07
Barnyard Duck June 18/07
BATTING MY EYELASHES May 16/08
Be Careful What You Wish For Feb 7/08
Be Realistic: Create a Miracle! October 18/06
Be Thankful Feb 22/07
Be Thankful Everyday May 1/07
Be The Fire, Not The Moth Jan 7/2007
"BEARLY" MANAGING August 9/07
BEAUTIFUL HEART Dec 10/07
Beautiful Soul March 10/08
Beautiful World June 6/06
Beauty & Love March 25/08
Because the sun was shining Aug 25/10
Becca's Lesson Dec 7/07
Becoming As Little Children August 29/07
Before I was a Mom... May 14/07
BEING A MOTHER Feb 20/07
BEING DAD, AND BEING THERE June 14/08
Before I was a MOM April 9/06
Begetting Change August 13/07
Beggar At The Door August 18/07
Behind The Door -- A Memoir March 12/08
Being dad and being there July 22/08
Best Things in Life Dec 10/07
Believe In Your Heart May 15/06
Bend, But Don't Break May 8/08
(The) best day of my life August 23/06
The Best Day of My Life .... so far! Feb 11/08
(The) best kind of friend Jan 12/07
(The) best Memory system June 11/07
Best Time of My Life June 1/07
BET YOUR BOOTS December 7/06
(A) BETTER LIFE April 4/07
BETTER PRAYER Oct 23/07
(The) Big Adventure April 10/08
Big and Small Sept 2/08
Big Brown July 8/08
Big Mud Puddles and Sunny Yellow Dandelions July 11/07
(The) Big Wheel November 4
(The) Birdies October 12
Blackie July 30/08
(The) Blades Aug 1/08
BLESSINGS WE LEAST EXPECT sept 20/08
Blessed by Simplicity Sept 14/07
Blessed vs. Shameful Giving April 7/08
(A) Blessing For You July 18/06
(The) Blood May 3/07
Blue Ribbon of Difference July 9/07
BOBBY'S NEW SHOES Nov 30/07
Bookends of Life March 19/07
Bopsy May 19/07
BOUND TO FORGIVE July 12/08
Breakfast at McDonalds Jan 18/07
(The) Brick August 2/07
Brick Wall Nov 6/07
(The) Bricks of Life Feb 12/07
Bringing Up Children June 19/07
British newspaper salutes Canada April 14/07
Broken Eggs and Shattered Glass Aug 26/08
(My) Brother's Letter August 9/07
BROWNIES WITH ICING June 30/08
BUTTERFLY AND THE FLOWER Jan 22/08
BUY ME A ROSE Feb 5/08
(THE) BUZZARD, THE BAT AND THE BUMBLEBEE Sept 13/06
(The) Cake - A True Tale June 14/08
(The) Call April 7/08
Call That Changed Everything Dec 3/07
CALLING ALL ANGELS Sept 2/06
CALMING THE STORM March 6/08
Can I Borrow $25 June 30/08
Can you sleep while the wind blows Jan 7/2007
(The) Canoe June 17/08
Careful What You Plant April 8/06
CaringBridge: Helping Patients Find Hope Nov 17/07
Carl’s Garden May 20/08
(The) Carpenter's House August 20/07
(A) Carrot, An Egg and A Coffee Bean
(The) Castaway and the Fire October 2/06
Celebrating You Oct 23/07
Chain of Love March 31/06
Change Of Season October 21/06
Change the World April 12/06
Changed Lives Sept 2/06
Changing Lives Aug 18/08
CHANGED MY LIFE January 3/07
CHANGING THE WORLD Feb 3/07
CHANGING WITH KINDNESS January 10/07
Charlie April 23/07
(The) Charm Feb 3/08
Checking In With Your Heart October 4/06
Chickens cant fly Nov 13/07
(THE) CHILD AND THE ANGEL Jan 18/08
Child of God Oct 5/07
(The) Child Within May 3/08
Childhood doesn't wait April 10/08
Childhood Wisdom Aug 29/08
Child's Advice to His Parents July 11/07
(A) Child’s Angel Jan 4/2007
Child's Ten Commandments to Parents June 6/07
Children Learn What They Live June 14/06
Children Watch and Listen June 28
Christians December 7/06
Christmas Fruitcake Story Dec 10/07
Christmas Gifts Dec 12/07
Christmas in July Nov 28/07
Christmas is a Time for Love December 16/06
Christmas Is for Love December 13/06
Christmas Love Nov 26/07
CHRISTMAS MIRACLE OF THE RUBY Dec 21/07
Christmas Prayer December 16/06
Christmas Spirit Dec 7/07
(A) Christmas Story December 7/06
Christmas Traditions-The Voice of Christmas Dec 7/07
(The) Christmas Voice November 28/06
Christmas Warrior Nov 28/07
Church Dog August 10/06
Church Size Aug 7/08
Circus June 19/08
CLOTHESLINE MEMORIES July 20/06
(The) Club 99 May 22/06 How many of us fit in there, I wonder?
Color of Friendship June 4/08
(The) Color of Love June 15/06
Colorful Shades of Gray October 2/06
(The) Comforter July 22/08
COMFORTING WITNESS Sept 22/07
Commitment July 25/07
Confessions of a father June 19/06
Conflicts of Loving July 8/08
CONSEQUENTLY BETTER April 21/08
(The) Cookie Thief! Feb 6/07
Coolest dad in the Universe June 14/07
(The) Cost Of Raising A Child March 22/07
Courage Of Your Convictions October 21/06
Courage vs. Strength December 7/06
Course in Miracles Revisited Nov 13/07
Coyote And The Hare Sept 27/06
Crabby Old Man Sept 11/07
(The) Cracked Pot April 4/06
Creed To Live By Jan 16/08
CROCUS RISING March 29/07
Crooked little smile June 2/06
(The) CROSS April 4/07
Cross on Interstate 40 Nov 28/07
(The) Crucial Word July 21/07
Cruise Control Aug 1/08
(A) CURIOUS HEARTWARMER'S ENCOUNTER July 27/07
Curtain Rods June 11/08
Cyber Stepmother August 8/06
Daddy's Day June 11/07
Daddy's Girl June 11/07
Dad's Boots Jan 20/07
Dad's Story Feb 20/08
Dance Of A Lifetime March 4/08
Dance With Me October 4/06
DANCES WITH HER HEART March 8/07
Dancing Lights of the Sky Dec 5/07
(The) Dancing Potato Chips November 13/06
Dancing with Friends Aug 26/08
Dancing With God April 25/08
Daniel's Story May 25/07
(The) Daughter of a Soldier July 26/06
DAUGHTER'S EYES May 17/07
Day at Work April 10/08
DAY THAT REALLY COUNTS July 22/08
(THE) DAY THE TV BROKE May 31/07
DEATH-a wonderful way to explain it Nov 15/07
Death of a Tree Aug 25/08
(The) DEBATE The Believer and the Infidel
Dedicate time June 3/06
Desiderata Jan 22/08
DIGGING UP BONES October 16/06
Dinner Out Sept 2/08
Diploma May 3/08
Dirt Roads Oct 3/07
(The) Disguised Blessings October 4/06
Do Dreams Count Feb 13/07
Do Not Forget To Hope Sept 4/06
Do you Believe in God Feb 20/07
Do You Feel There Is No Hope April 25/08
Do you have a second July 6/06
Do You Know What December 28/06
Do You Smell That? April 7
Does Anything Ever Turn Out Right March 16/07
Does God Smoke June 27/08
Does God still speak Feb 27/07
Dog And Cat October 2/06
Dog Named Lucky July 6/07
Dog Next Door March 1/08
(The( Dollmaker Nov 17/07
Don't Forget July 17/08
Don't Hope Friend...Decide April 12/06
DON'T MESS WITH MOM March 14/07
Don't Quit July 11/07
Don't We All June 13/06
Down Is The Best Place To Be June 11/08
(The) Downside of Getting Even April 19/07
(A) Dozen Christmas Roses November 29/06
DREAMS OF YESTERDAY Sept 11/07
Dream to Fly July 27/07
Drop a pebble in the water Feb 26/08
Drug Jan 16/07
Drummer Boy Dec 7/07
Each day is a special day April 25/08
Eagle Peak April 30/08
(The) Easter Bunny April 6/07
(THE) EASTER GIFT April 5/07
Easter will never be the same for Lydia March 12/08
EATING LEMONS WITH MOM May 8/08
Eating Well Sept 18/06
Educating for Life Sept 20/06
Eight Gifts That Don't Cost A Cent May 7/06
11th DAY of the 11th MONTH November 8/06
EMBRACING OUR DIFFERENCES Sept 20/08
Embroidering Your Life May 17/06
(The) Empty Easter Egg March 19/07
Encouragement August 11/07
Encouraging High Achievement Oct 23/07
Encouraging Kelly August 2/06
Encouraging Words December 7/06
Enjoy the Ride October 18/06
Entertaining Angels June 23/08
(THE) ERASER April 21/08
Escalator Angel Nov 6/07
ESPECIALLY FOR YOU March 1/08
Every Minute Is Special March 6/08
Every mother's prayer June 5/07
Everybody loves Santa Claus Dec 18/07
Everything is Connected Feb 9/07
EXERCISING YOUR JOY February 1/07
Explain God August 4/07
EXPLANATION OF GOD Jan 16/08
Every Woman should Have August 23/06
Every Woman Should Know... March 21/08
Everything Happens for a Reason
Everything Is Not What It Seems... April 24/07
Explain in God Feb 6/07
(The) Face In The Mirror March 14/07
Faith and Deeds April 23/07
FAITH AND LOSS Aug 25/08
Faithful Friends Feb 20/07
Fall of Life Nov 13/07
Family July 5/07
F A M I L Y Dec 10/07
FAMILY NIGHT Oct 11/07
FAMILY STRENGTH April 25/08
(The) Famous Paper Clips October 12/06
Father Dec 21/07
Father’s Advice to His Son July 11/07
(The) Father's Eyes December 14/06
(My) Father's Angels May 22/07
(My )Favorite Baseball Card June 6/06
(MY) FAVORITE VALENTINE Feb 7/08
Fax from GOD June 11/06
FEAR Jan 21/08
FEAR NOT April 7/08
FEARLESS LIVING Jan 25/08
FEELING LOVED December 3/06
FEELING MORE THANKFUL March 1/08
(A) few wrinkles add character Jan 20/07
15 Minutes Jan 22/07
57 Cents Feb 22/07
Find a penny August 21/06
Find Something Beautiful July 9/07
FINDING LIGHT IN DARK PLACES Feb 19/07
Finding the Light Feb 25/08
Finding Your Life's Purpose January 1/2008
FIRST CASUALTY OF WAR Feb 8/08
(My) First Christmas In Heaven December 12
Five year old Jacobs chocolate cookies July 21/07
Flag Waving Cowboys May 24/08
Flight Feb 7/08
FLIPPING June 4/08
Flowers On The Bus Jan 29/07
Flying August 29/06
Flying Above The Storm May 30/07
Flying Bird March 12/08
Foibles of Facial Folliclization Aug 15/08
FOLLOW YOUR SPIRIT ... WITHOUT HESITATION Jan 29/07
(The) Football November 7/06
FOOTPRINTS...A New Version March 7/07
For All of Us in a Hurry March 30/06
For my grandchildren April 7/08
For Remembrance day & Christmas December 7/06
For the courage of a child April 7/08
For the Man Who Hated Christmas Dec 10/07
For the Potholes on the Road in Life Oct 26/07
For The Times May 10/07
Forgiveness-breaking the cycle of resentment March 21/07
40 Left over carnations from graduation June 28/07
FRAIDY CAT Oct 23/07
Freckles April 18/06
FREE HUGS June 27/08
Freedom Isnt Free Oct 9/07
FREEDOM'S PRICE May 23/07
FRESH START Nov 13/07
FRIEND TO FRIEND Feb 15/08
Friends and Acquaintances Aug 15/08
Friendship greeting Nov 17/07
Friendship Seeds Sept 17/07
Garden of Friendship May 8/07
Gentle Beast Aug 7/08
GENUINE AND CARING LEADERSHIP April 10/08
Getting Older Jan 22/08
(The) Gift June 14/08
(The) Gift Of Forgiveness August 11/07
(The) Gifts Of The Little People July 20
Girl I used to be Aug 11/08
Give To Life August 9/07
Genie in the Lamp November 1/06
(The) Girl Used to Be April 27/07
Glow in the Dark June 14/08
Glowing and Growing with the Appreciation July 3/08
GOD AND SANTA Dec 7/07
God and the Geese July 14/06
God Can Speak Through an Electron Feb 16/07
God Didn't Make Perfect Mothers! May 8/07
God Gave Us Friends June 18/07
God has a positive answer April 19/06
God Is Always Near Sept 5/08
Good Life - Or Not March 10/08
God Lives Under the Bed June 20/06
God Loves Teachers July 9/07
God make you for a reason July 17/08
God Said... Aug 15/08
God Will Find You Feb 12/08
God's Amazing Serendipities May 23/06
God's Answer July 30/08
God's Boxes May 4/06
God's Caller ID Oct 30/07
God's Embroidery August 2/07
God's Kids April 19/07
God’s Mysterious Ways March 21/08
God's Perfection July 6/07
God's Time, Mans Time Aug 15/08
Going Beyond Oneself, Sept 26/06
Gold, Fur, and Common Sense Jan 28/08
(The) Gold & Ivory Tablecloth Dec 18/07
GOOD BLESSINGS August 2/07
Good Days, Bad Days June 6/06
Good Fruits or Sour Grapes November 16/06
GOOD NEIGHBORS July 30/08
(A) GOOD PLACE TO REST Aug 7/08
GONNA BE ALL RIGHT Nov 30/07
Grace for Mothers and Others Sept 13/06
Gracious, Abundant Rain June 19/06
GRAMMIES LEGACY OF LOVE May 10/07
Grandfathers Clock July 6/06
Grandfathers Table June 4/07
Grandma June 22/06
Grandma's hands May 25/07
Grandmas Last Halloween Oct 17/07
GRANDMA'S POT ROAST November 1/06
Grand-mothers July 14/07
GRANDPA'S BAD HABIT Nov 22/07
Grandpa's New Crop April 25/08
Grandpa's Pocketknife Sept 11/07
Grandpas Rootbeer Logic Sept 20/08
Grandpas Valentine Feb 2/07
GRATITUDE ATTITUDE March 25/08
Gratitude Sandwich July 18/07
Great day June 6/06
(The) Great Fire July 26/06
Great Links for more Inspirational Stories July 11/07 A Must Check out!!!!
Growing Up is Optional May 16/07
Guidelines From God April 30/08
(The) guy in the glass April 21/08
(A) Guy Named Bill Sept 21/06
Hand Me Downs Jan 18/08
Hand On My Shoulder August 14/06
(The) Handshake Jan 31/08
Hang On To One Another Sept 7/07
Happiness Is A Voyage Sept 7/07
Happiness Is The Way November 13/06
HAPPINESS...WHAT'S THE SECRET Dec 10/07
Happy Aug 25/08
HAPPY ENDINGS March 1/08
Harnessing the Best That is Within You Oct 29/07
Have Freedom, Will Travel. June 9/06
(The) Harvest April 4/06
Happy Labor Day August 31/07
(The) Happy Look May 31/06
Have Freedom, Will Travel. June 8/06
HE CALLS ME MAMA April 10/08
HE MAKES THEM SHIVER NOW October 25/06
HEALING POWER OF A THANKFUL HEART March 21/08
HEALING WATERS Feb 21/07
(THE) HEART OF FRIENDSHIP Sept 18/06
Heartprints May 3/08
Heartsong Dec 14/07
Heaven April 14/06
Heaven and Hell Nov 1/07
Heavenly Creatures July 30/08
HELP FROM ABOVE Sept 28/07
Help From An Unexpected Source May 18/06
HELP ME REPAY KINDNESS WHEN MALICE IS SHOWN ME July 30/08
HER EYES LOCKED ON THE WOODEN CHRISTMAS TREE ORNAMENT Dec 14/07
Her Little Boy November 9/06
Here's To Mom May 12/07
Hints for Life Jan 4/2007
His Angel May 25
His Autograph on My Life April 25/08
His Name Is John October 20
His Teachers Hand July 9/07
Hold her and love her Aug 1/08
Hold on Tightly May 20/08
Holding hands May 19/06
Hope April 14/07
(The) House Behind the Weeds Sept 22/07
HOW HARD IS THAT July 30/08
How many friends Sept 11/07
How Much Does a Prayer Weigh August 24/06
How Poor We Really Are April 19/07
HOW THE FEMALE EAGLE CHOOSES HER MATE August 3/06
How to be a friend August 29/07
HOW TO BE WEALTHY Aug 25/10
How to Dance in the Rain April 25/08
How To Install Love November 20/06
How To Plant Your Garden April 17/06
HOW TO STAY YOUNG July 20/06
Hugs (Healing benefits) June 15/06
Humility Feb 21/07
Hungry For Your Love August 3/06
Hurtling through space May 26/06
I BELIEVE March 19/07
I Believe (in pictures) Very beautiful June 6/08
(The) I CANT FUNERAL Sept 25/06
I Could Fly Away Feb 12/08
I could not find it June 16/06
I COULDN'T DO IT Feb 22/07
I Don't Want to Let Go March 1/08
I FOLLOWED HIS PATH July 22/08
I Found A Penny Nov 6/07
I Got Back on My Seat Oct 9/07
I Hope You Dance April 22/06
I know who she is Dec 3/07
I Know Why Jan 31/08
I PLOWED FORWARD Jan 9/08
I SEE GARBAGE TRUCKS Oct 9/07
I Stepped On A Lantern Oct 29/07
I Stood In The Rain Oct 19/07
I Want To Know April 17/06
I Will Be There May 18/06
Ice Cream June 18/07
Ice Cream for the Soul Nov 22/07
(The) Ice Cream Prayer August 4/07
IF and WHEN April 19/06
If I Could Live My Life Over Again Dec 3/07
If I should Never Wake Up Oct 29/07
If you could see August 7/07
If you could see for just one day Jan 17/07
If you have a dream July 12/08
IF YOU SEE MY SON March 30/08
I'M Lost Sept 20/08
In Clay Vessels July 3/08
In Honor Of The Women In My Life July 16/07
IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT WORLD Feb 19/08
In Your Eyes Jan 11/07
Information Please May 31/06
Inspiration June 10/06
Inspiration and Spirituality Links July 9/07
Integrity of Ugly July 12/07
Interesting Funeral July 30/08
INTERVIEW WITH GOD March 31/07
(The) Invisible Woman May 13/08
IRENA SENDLER July 30/08
Irish Blessings March 6/07
Is it Fate October 4
Is Packaging Important to You?
Is There Really a Prince Charming
IS YOUR HUT ON FIRE Oct 26/07
It seems so far! May 13/06
It Takes a Special Man June 14/07
It Takes Courage Oct 23/07
It Takes More Than Blood June 11/07
It's Good to be Loved May 17/06
It Was in the Cards April 21/08
Ivory and Gold Tablecloth Dec 3/07
Jesus and Santa Jan 14/08
JESUS IS THE REASON FOR THE SEASON Dec 7/07
Jessie's Glove August 23/06
JH-14 July 12/06
Journey of a Mother July 30/08
Joy in the Journey April 3/06
(A) Joyful Noise Nov 28/07
Juggling your life Sept 19/07
Jury Duty March 19/08
Just by being in it July 6/06
Just Do Your Best, and Everything Will Be All Right. May 23/07
Just Five More Minutes August 11/07
Just for Today July 10/06
Just Let Go December 3/06
Just One Wish November 28/06
Just Say No Nov 8/07
Just Send Me a Gift Card Oct 29/07
Just Stay May 10/07
Keep On Singing June 9/06
Keep Your Dream Jan 18/07
Keep Your Fork May 29/06
Keepers Oct 19/07
Keeper of the Spring April 7/08
Keeping The Holiday Spirit Alive Throughout the Year January 3/2007
KEEPING THE MOTOR IDLING April 15/08
Keeping Up With the Angels Nov 6/07
Kids Are Like Kites, October 5/06
Kids who see Spirits Aug 15/08
Kindness August 2/07
Kindness of Strangers June 11/08
Kitchen Windows march 1/08
LABOUR OF LOVE November 17/06
Lady at The Top of The Stairs Feb 25/08
(THE) LANGUAGE OF LOVE Feb 8/07
(The) Lassie Dog Jan 9/2007
(The) Last Straw May 16/06
Lasting Impression March 6/08
(A) Late Bloomer Jan 8/2007
Late For School October 17/06
LAUGHING ANGELS Jan 29/08
Laughing with Dad Feb 2/07
Learn to Speak Their Language Jan 29/08
LEARNING FROM MY TINY PATIENTS Feb 25/08
Learning to Listen April 10/06
LEAVE YOUR LIGHT ON July 16/07
LEGACY OF LOVE Dec 5/07
(A) Lesson I Learned From My Father November 15/06
Lessons God Taught Me Feb 7/08
Lessons My Father Taught Me June 11/07
lessons to make you think about the way we treat people. Dec 18/07
(The) Letters Feb 19/08
Let it Go Sept 22/06
Let the Expert Run the Show Jan 23/08
LET YOUR SOUL SING March 29/07
(A) Letter To Love Sept 9/08
LETTING GO October 18/06
Letting go of Mr. J. November 28/06
Liberating Work Dec 3/07
Life is a Bag of Frozen Peas Jan 25/08
Life Is A Journey Jan 14/08
Life is changing June 5/07
Life is good June 23/06
Life is Not a Race Nov 3/07
Life is Precious July 27/06
Life is the coffee December 26/06
LIFE QUIZ... Oct 5/07
Life's Detours Oct 19/07
Life's Echo June 5/07
Life's Scars November 1/06
Life's True Yardstick Sept 14/07
Life on the Streets April 25/08
(A) LIFE WELL LIVED April 30/07
Lions & Tigers! Dec 7/07
Links to great stories or videos Dec 10/07
(THE) LIPS OF GOD April 26/07
(The) List April 30/07
LISTEN WITH YOUR EYES March 22/07
(A) Little Bit of Kindness April 17/07
(My) Little Brother Feb 12/07
LITTLE COTTAGE BY THE LAKE Oct 19/07
(A) Little Encouragement Feb 20/08
Little Evidence for Gods Existence April 23/07
(The) lil girl in the park August 27/07
Listening to that inner voice Dec 5/07
(A) Little Girl's Prayer May 23/07
(THE) LITTLE GIRL WHO DARED TO WISH December 24/06
(A) Little House Cleaning Feb 12/07
(A) Little Bird Told Me May 30/08
Little Girl's Prayer Aug 1/08
Little Miracles Dec 29/07
Little moment of joy April 21/08
(A) Little Mouse Story June 4/08
Little Shay Jan 28/08
LITTLE SHOT OF APPRECIATION Sept 13/08
(The) L I T T L E Things Feb 19/08
Little Treasures May 31/06
LITTLE WHITE CHURCH May 3/08
Live the Answers April 17/07
Live Today April 10/08
Live your best life August 21/06
LIVING Feb 3/07
Living in Peace Sept 9/08
Look around you Jan 25/2007
Look For The Positive Jan 8/2007
Living with Ghosts May 3/08
Love and music in their hearts Jan 29/08
Love & Time November 28/06
LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING March 21/08
LOVE, LAUGH AND ENJOY Sept 7/07
Love Notes Sept 15/06
Love or Lust june 25/08
Lucky July 8/06
Lucky Frog Sept 5/08
Lucy Jan 16/08
Lunch With God Sept 27
LUNCHTIME WITH MY LADY Feb 16/07
(The) Magic Bat August 24/06
(THE) MAGIC LETTER Sept 27/6
Magic of Three Days June 28/07
MAGNOLIAS June 23/08
Malfunctions of Life Oct 30/07
Make music, make noise, be heard! May 25/06
Making Friends April 23/07
Making Pancakes Sept 28/07
Making Sandcastles August 20/07
MAKING SENSE OF LIFE Dec 7/07
MAKING THINGS RIGHT July 30/08
Making Time For God March 20/07
MAMA'S TREASURED RECIPES Nov 22/07
(The) Man Who Achieved Everything He Could September 4/07
(The) Man who kept Christmas December 20/06
The Mansion Over the Hilltop December 15/06
Mary Lou March 28/06
(A) MARY MOMENT Jan 1/2008
Masks August 2/07
May You Know Gods Love May 1/07
MAYBE . . . July 17/08
(The) Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee June 22
Mean Mom March 30/08
Mean Moms March 6/07
Meaning of Life August 7/07
Meanings April 11/06
Mears Family Store March 24/08
Memo From God August 4/07
Memo from Your Child July 18/07
Memory Lane Jan 30/07
MEMORY TREE Dec 21/07
Men vs. Women Sept 2/08
Met for the Second Time Aug 25/08
Michael Gartner's Parents March 14/07
(The) Miracle July 18/06
Miracle of love June 4/08
(A) Miracle of Tears June 1/06
MIRACLE OF THE FLIPPED SWITCHES July 12/08
Missing School Desks Nov 3/07
Mistake That Won’t Go Away March 14/08
(The) Mitzvah Feb 16/07
Moments for love June 8/06
Mom's Last Laugh April 26/07
Mommy Christmas Story Dec 17/07
Mommy Mediator May 22/07
(The) Monster May 8/08
(A) MONSTER TO HUG July 3/08
More Than a Friend March 23/07
Morning Coffee Sept 4/06
MORSEL OF HOPE May 7/08
(The) Most Beautiful Flower October 21
Most Beautiful Heart March 30/06
MOST BEAUTIFUL VOICE March 12/08
Most Beloved Flower August 15/07
(THE) MOST DIFFICULT INSTRUMENT TO PLAY Sept 15
(The) most important part April 7/08
(THE) MOST IMPORTANT TRAITS June 6/08
Mother November 30/06
Mother--Ken Pierpont May 11/07
(A) Mother Knows She Has Boys When... May 22/07
Motherhood-Blessed Gift From God May 8/07
Mothers May 9 /06
Mothers 2 Jan 9/08
Mother's cutoff period Oct 3/07
Mother's Day May 10/08
MOTHER'S DAY PRAYER May 12/07
MOTHER'S ETERNAL LOVE March 26/07
(A)
MOTHER'S LOVE May 5
-A
MUST READ
Mother's Path April 23/07
Mothers.....past & present Jan 30/07
MOUSETRAP July 9/07
(The) Mountain Climber October 24/06
(A) Mountain of Laundry Feb 28/07
(The) Mountain Story Jan 15/07
MOVING FORWARD BY LOOKING BACK June 23/08
Moving Rocks July 18/06
MRS. MITCHELL'S WARM THANKSGIVING Nov 15/07
Mums Love Feb 12/08
My child's hands July 4/06
MY DAD June 22/07
My Dad’s Hands June 14/07
My Dash May 11 -A
MUST READ
My Father June 11/07
My Friend Barry Aug 11/08
My Guardian Angel Story Feb 5/08
My Most Beautiful Diamonds May 10/08
My Mother's Memory Lane May 3/08
MY OLD CAR March 20/07
MY SONS March 19/07
My Ten Angels April 22/06
NAMASTE Nov 15/07
Natural Highs April 25/08
Natural, Organic, 100 Percent Wholesome Hugging Feb 23/08
Nature of Character July 30/08
Needing Neala July 12/08
Never Forget June 8/07
NEVER GROWING OLD Aug 11/08
Never Judge Jan 22/07
Never lose Christmas Dec 3/07
Never Too Late August 4/07
New Church Pastor March 14/08
(A) New Pair of Shoes May 1/07
(THE) NEW YEARS MIRROR December 31/06
Nicest Prayer Dec 10/07
(A) Nickel's Worth April 4/07
Night at the Border July 17/08
Nine Insights of a Wealthy Soul Jan 1/2008
No Charge for Love March 30/08
No Christmas Presents Dec 22/07
NO CRYSTAL BALL April 5/07
No Problem Jan 25/08
NO REGRETS June 14/08
No Room for Fences May 27/06
No Santa? December 12/06
No Time (also know as The Poem) June 8/07
NO WONDER OUR CHILDREN DO NOT CARE ANYMORE Feb 8/08
NOT FOR SALE Sept 14/07
Not Only Christmas Day December 16/06
NOT THE WAY GRANDMA DID IT Jan 18/08
NOTHING ALL THAT SPECIAL Jan 17/07
Nothing Beats Family October 31/06
Nothing Is More Important Nov 12/07
NOW THAT'S GOD July 8/08
OF SHOE LACES AND THINGS Feb 7/08
Ogre In The Pit May 23/07
(The) Old Fisherman May 8/06
OLD FRIENDS June 14/08
Old Man and the Dog Jan 22/08
Old Man Jack Nov 10/07
(The) Old Man, the Nurse, and the Marine March 19/08
(THE) OLD PHONE August 13/07
(The) Old Rocking Chair April 23/07
Old Seven Dollar Nov 30/07
Old West Justice May 19/07
ON SANTA'S TEAM December 12/06
ON SEEING OTHERS March 25/08
ON WINGS OF LOVE August 25/07
One day a mother died. April 7/08
ONE DAY AT A TIME Feb 19/07
ONE-EYED BERKINS Nov 21/07
One Flaw In Women (Newer version) Jan 17/07
One Moment in Time June 5/07
One Special Hour July 26/06
(The )One that Got Away March 31/06
ONE THING March 22/07
One Tree November 30/06
Only Sermon May 27/08
Open your eyes June 14/06
Open Your Eyes – Open Your Heart Oct 12/07
OPPORTUNITIES IN DISGUISE Sept 2/08
OUR GREATEST SONGS ARE STILL UNSUNG Sept 6/06
OUR TIME Dec 14/07
Our time in the sun June 29/06
Pancakes For God June 19/07
PACKING Sept 5/08
Paper clip hugs June 5/07
Parable of a child July 9/07
(The) Parable of the Rose May 3/06
(The) Paradoxical Commandments March 26/07
Parent's First Nov 1/07
Parent's Wish-(Good to be Loved)
PARENTAL ANGELS March 14/08
Paris At Night. Oct 11/07
Past Your Ego August 18/07
(THIS) PASTOR HAS GUTS August 13/07
(A) Patch of Quilt Jan 11/08
(THE) PATHWAY HOME Feb 19/07
Paying Someone Back May 30/06
PEACE Aug 25/08
PEACE IS THE ANSWER July 20/06
Pearls July 6/07
(The) Pebbles Jan 8/2007
Pennies Jan 14/08
Pennies from Heaven Nov 28/07
PEOPLE COME INTO YOUR LIFE FOR A REASON April 16/06
(The) Perfect Gift Jan 15/07
(The) Perfect Mistake Sept 26/06
Perky Game Feb 23/08
Perseverance is the Ability April 7/08
Piano Lessons August 9/07
(The) Piano Student Feb 20/08
(A) Picture Of Peace August 7/07
Pinewood Derby July 25/07
(The) Pink Dress June 3
PLANTING HAPPINESS July 21/07
Play With Me June 11/07
Playing Cupid December 13/06
Please Hear What Im Not Saying Feb 5/08
Please, Mommy Remember May 3/07
Ponderables... April 7/08
Pooch on the Premises Aug 25/08
Poor Mother Nature Aug 7/08
(THE) POSITIVE SIDE OF LIFE March 14/07
POSTAL SERVICE NO ONE HEARS ABOUT May 14/07
Pot of Panatunies Sept 13/08
Pots God Plants Us In July 11/07
(The) potato puppy March 22/07
(The) Power of Determination Sept 26/06
(The) Power of Encouragement June 14/06
(The) Power of Friendships April 17/06
(The) Power of Ice Cream December 7/06
Power of One Good Word Oct 22/07
(The) Power of PERHAPS October 18/06
(THE) POWER OF WORDS May 1/06
Power Of Your Actions Sept 14/07
Power of Keep Moving On Dec 5/07
(THE) POWERS OF LOVE August 16/06
Power of surrender April 7/08
Prayer Weight May 22/08
PRAYING FOR THOSE WHO DREAM Aug 1/08
Praying Hands Feb 27/07
Precious Lord Nov 30/07
Pretty One Nov 6/07
Pride Dec 5/07
(THE) PRIVILEGE AND BLESSING OF WORK aug 25/08
PRIZED POSSESSION Nov 8/07
Promise yourself…. Jan 1/2008
PROUDLY DISPLAYED Sept 5/08
Puppies For Sale April 21/08
Puppy Love July 18/07
Puppy Size March 29/07
PURELL AND VINEGAR RINSE June 22/08
Purple Glove Movement Sept 11/07
PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS July 3/08
Push June 23/08
Questions That Changed My Lie Oct 3/07
(A) Quiet Voice June 6/07
Quilt of Holes Feb 14/07
Rain Washed Jan 4/2007
RAINBOW BRIDGE GANG - BRIDGETTE March 26/08
Real Driver July 22/08
Real Mothers May 8/07
(The) Real Successes June 28/07
(A) REAL THANKSGIVING Nov 22/07
Recipe For A Miracle July 25/07
Red Geranium Aug 1/08
(The) Red Mahogany Piano June 1/07
Red Roses Nov 8/07
refiner and purifier of silver July 27/07
REFLECTION Nov 15/07
Reflections Sept 4/07
Reflections -a great story March 19/08
Reflections Of A Mother July 22/08
Reflections of Love Jan 31/08
Reflections on Married Love for Valentines Day Feb 19/08
Rekindled May 3/08
Relieve Life's Burdens Feb 21/07
REMEMBER July 12/06
REMEMBER IT IS BETTER TO GIVE THAN RECEIVE Dec 18/07
Remember these proverbs Nov 12/07
Remembering Sam Aug 1/08
Remembering the Feeling May 3/08
Remove The Stones August 2/07
Reputation and Character Feb 5/07
(The) Richest Man Feb 22/07
Right From Wrong June 17/08
RING THE BELL Sept 13/06
Ring the Bells of Christmas Nov 30/07
Ripplemaker June 25/08
(The) Risk of Love Feb 11/08
Road of Life May 7/08
Road To Success Aug 26/08
Robbie's Mission December 7/06
Robby March 9/07
Robby's Night June 8/07
Roger Maris and Me August 16/06
Ron June 14/07
Ronny's Book April 25/06
Room at the Inn Nov 28/07
Room at the Table May 3/07
Rules Of Life June 18/07
Run With Intent March 19/08
RUSHING OR LIVING March 1/08
Sam, I Am Nov 1/07
(The) Sandpiper March 30/06
Sands of Christmas Story Dec 18/07
Sands of Forgiveness March 1/08
Santa Claus-The true story December 14/06
SANTA DIDN'T FORGET November 29/06
Saturday Mornings Sept 13/06
Saving the Flag July 5/07
Saying Hello Nov 28/07
Scarecrow November 14/06
Scars of Love June 8/07
School Room March 26/08
Seal it with a kiss Feb 3/07
(The) Second Ten Commandments February 1/07
SECOND TO THE LAST PEW June 23/08
(The) Secret March 15/07
Secret Ears April 14/07
Secret of Happiness August 27/07
SECRET SANTA Dec 17/07
(The) Seed April 18/07
(The) Seed of Honesty November 6/06
Seeing Angels May 25/07
Seeing With The Heart August 7/07
Seize the Moment Dec 7/07
Send All the Bouquets Upstairs Feb 23/08
Sending Blessings Your way August 29/07
Sentry of the Homestead July 3/08
Serenity May 22/08
Seven Days Sept 11/06
(THE) SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD May 19/06
Shay, the Hero November 22/06
SHE TOOK HER PILL January 3/2007
SHINE BRIGHT April 15/08
Shipwreck July 4
(A) Shmily for you March 7/07
Shoes From God March 7/07
Shoulder to PRAY on June 23/08
(THE) SIGN Dec 7/07
silver-linings May 25/07
(A) SIMPLE GESTURE April 30/066
Size of your heart May 8/07
Slow down, God is still in Heaven June 5/07
Slow Down Therapy Jan 28/08
SLOW TO JUDGE PRAYER Oct 19/07
Small things can make a big difference October 21
(A) SMALL VICTORY November 15/06
Smell The Roses November 13/06
(THE) SMILING GAME December 14/06
(The) Sneezes August 29/07
(A) Snow Day Jan 16/07
So Little Time Apreil 10/08
Some Kind of Miracle October 17
Some time ago, at the Seattle Olympics Sept 7/07
SOMEDAY WHEN... June 11/06
Someone to Look After Jan 21/08
Something about Stevie August 7/06
Something for Stevie Feb 23/07
Sometimes April 25/08
Sometimes and Always April 3/06
Sometimes there is no more Jan 22/08
Sometimes you just have to cry June 5/07
(My) Son has grown so fast May 22/07
(The) song that silenced the cappuccino machine August 2/06
Special Days - Painful Memories Jan 29/08
(A) SPECIAL GROCERY LIST June 9/06
SPECIAL TIME May 31/07
(My) Special Valentine Feb 14/07
Spelling Lessons June 27/08
SPEND AN EXTRA MINUTE Oct 26/07
Spider teaches about the web of life Jan 20/07
Spiders Web July 12/07
SPILLED COAL March 22/07
(The) Spirit Lodge August 16/06
Splashes Of Life April 7/08
SPRING April 14/07
Spring Forever in my Heart June 7/06
Stampede April 7/08
Start Where You Stand Feb 5/08
Starting Over.......Again Nov 8/07
Steps to Happiness Sept 11/06
STILL HOLDING HANDS Feb 15/08
Still Valentines June 27/08
(The) Stone Cutter Sept 11/06
STOP & SMELL THE FLOWERS April 7/08
Stop waiting: May 4/06
(A) story to live By August 25/07
STORIES FROM A PORCH SWING July 27/07
(The) Story Behind The Dash June 27/08
Story of Christmas Stockings Dec 7/07
Story of Life August 21/06
Story of Sacrifice July 11/07
(A)
Story To Live By May 28/06 A must read!!
Strange Things People Say May 30/08
Strange World, Strange People June 6/08
(The) Strangest Secret Sept 5/08
Strength & Courage July 11/07
Strength of a Man July 11/07
Strength of women Feb 12/07
Stress Tests Coming Oct 5/07
Strive to be happy Jan 28/08
Stroke of Genius Dec 3/07
(A) Stroke of Good Fortune June 28/06
STRONG WOMAN March 4/08
STUFF WE'RE GLAD WE KNOW April 15/08
Stuffed Shirts May 16/08
suggestions for squeezing more fun out of life Sept 26/06
Sunday Stranger April 15/08
Sunrise in a Cemetery Oct 29/07
Sunrise Service March 25/08
Sweet Irony July 9/07
SWEET MEMORIES OF THE BICENTENNIAL June 28/07
(A) SWEET STORY April 5/07
TABLE FOR TWO Sept 11/08
(The) Tablecloth December 28/06
Taking Aim Sept 20/08
Take Mother to the Ball Game April 25/08
Take my Son March 14/07
Take the Plunge Feb 7/07
Take Your Cross and Follow Me July 17/08
tale of acceptance and diversity April 10/08
TALE OF THE RED SHIRT Jan 24/07
(A) Tale of Six Boys October 26/06
(The) Tale of Three Trees. May 24/06
Tantra Jan 29/08
Teach the Children Dec 3/07
Teacher and her student August 7/06
Teachers in Disguise Nov 10/07
TEACHING BY THE SWORD Feb 11/08
Tears of a Clown Oct 23/07
"Technical" Track Record Oct 26/07
Teddy October 10
TELL ME SOMETHING GOOD ABOUT AMERICA Nov 15/07
Ten Guidelines From God~ June 6/06 A must read!!
Ten Things God Wont Ask April 24/06
10 things to do today Feb 11/08
Test of Love May 15/06
THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME. Nov 30/07
Thankful Box Nov 6/07
THANKFUL THANKSGIVING Nov 22/07
THANKSGIVING MEMORY Nov 8/07
THAT IS GOD SAYING, I LOVE YOU April 21/08
THAT'S THE SPIRIT December 23/06
That's Why I Am Here August 18/06
THE GOOD LIFE – OR NOT Feb 8/08
THE LAST CHRISTMAS Dec 14/07
The one that got away July 12/06
THE PATIENT Oct 12/07
The Poem Feb 19/07
THE PRESENT May 12/06
The Race March 10/07
THE ROOM June 5/06
The Rope March 2/07
The Teacup April 7/08
THE U IN JESUS Oct 22/07
The way I see it May 30/06
THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE April 16/08
Their First Snowman March 12/08
THERE AIN'T NO SANTA CLAUS December 13/06
THEY CALLED IT ...PUPPY LOVE July 3/08
THINGS OF VALUE April 25/08
Things I've Learned August 20/07
Things that Make Me Thankful Oct 29/07
Things to Remember Feb 27/07
Think you cant remember April 20/07
3900 Marbles August 11/07
3900 Saturdays April 7/08
This Is Good July 10/06
Those Who Keep Us Safe August 25/07
Those who mocked God.... July 14/06
Thoughts to remember March 1/08
Thoughtful Teacher Nov 6/07
Thoughts to Remember May 31/06
(A) Thousand Marbles April 10/06
THREE ORPHANS Jan 29/08
Three Things Nov 21/07
THREE VOW WONDER WOMAN June 14/08
Through Tear Washed Eyes Dec 18/07
Time Together October 10/06
Tipping the Taxi Driver April 25/08
T. Js. STORY Aug 11/08
To My Child April 3/06
To Remember Me April 21/08
TO THOSE THAT COUNT August 18/07
Today June 19/06
Today has passed Feb 14/07
Today is a Good Day!: The Story of Sambo July 22/08
Today Is The Day May 8/07
(My) Toenails are Pink June 11/08
Tomatoes March 21/07
Tomorrow could be late Jan 22/07
Tomorrow Never Comes March 29/06
Too Busy for a Friend July 11/06
Too Late October 31/06
TOSS OF A COIN April 21/08
TOUCHING LIVES July 30/08
Trapped in Truty June 30/08
Travel April 3/06
Traveler and His Dog July 21/07
(A) TREASURE March 4/08
(The) Treasure July 23/07
(THE) TROUBLE TREE May 1/06
Trucker's Story Nov 19/07
TRUE BEAUTY April 16/08
True Christmas Joy December 7/06
True Meaning of Christmas Dec 3/07
(THE) TRUTH ABOUT MOTHERS May 8/08
Turning of the Seasons June 11/08
(The) Twelve Days of Christmas December 12
(My) 24 hours with Hope July 14/07
24 Things to Remember July 9/07
TWIRLING MEMORIES October 11/06
Two Days Not To Worry About June 10/06
TWO EYES; TWO HANDS October 14
Two Friends March 6/07
TWO GLASSES OF WINE April 25/08
Two Horses April 18/07
Two Men and their Military Manuals July 5/06
Two Sides of Christmas Dec 29/07
Two traveling angels Sept 2/06
Type ABO Man Oct 23/07
Ugly Feb 13/07
Unconditional Love July 5/07
UNDESIRABLE SOLDIER May 22/08
Unforgettable fishing Experience June 28/07
UNIQUE WORDS OF FORGIVENESS Nov 19/07
UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE July 12/07
UNREMEMBERED ACTS OF KINDNESS August 2.06
Un-Thanked People April 11.06
UNTOLD TREASURES Sept 20.06
(A) Valentine for Grandma Feb 14/07
(A) Valentine Prayer Jan 29/07
(The) Value of Time October 2/06
(The) Value of Time December 7/06
(The) Vase November 14/06
Veterans April 17/07
(The) View From My Kitchen Window Feb 3/08
Voice Of Compassion April 21/06
(THE) WAGER Aug 1/08
(A) Wake Up Call April 9/06
WALLETS AND CAR KEYS March 15/07
(The) Wanderings Of The Spider Clan August 3/06
Wanna Borrow a Jack March 16/07
War Ships. Man the Battle Stations May 30/08
WARM INSIDE March 21/08
Watching Me Go Oct 11/07
(The) Water June 22/06
Water the world June 13/06
Wealth, Success and Love Sept 7/07
We are Always valuable no matter what
We Are born to love Sept 11/07
WE FORGET Dec 12/07
We make a difference May 25/07
We Need a January Thaw Feb 13/07
We Pray for Children . . . July 11/07
Weakness Or Strength May 21/06
(A) wealthy woman June 1/06
WEARING 9/11 Sept 6/06
WHAT A WONDERFUL WAY TO EXPLAIN DEATH April 25/08
What are friends (with cute pictures of kids and their dogs) October 1/07
what comes around goes around Jan 18/07
What Do Our Dreams Mean March 12/08
What do you Make July 6/07
What Does Heaven Look Like June 4/08
WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND Dec 18/07
WHAT HAPPENED Jan 31/08
WHAT I DON'T UNDERSTAND ABOUT MARRIAGE July 11/07
What Is A Boy June 21/06
What Is A Dad June 11/07
WHAT IS A FRIEND Jan 9/08
What Is A Mother May 15/06
What is a Mother May 3/07
What is a Mother-poem May 12/07
WHAT IS LOVE Feb 16/07
What is the origin of the Easter Egg March 26/07
What Should I fear Jan 20/07
WHAT TEACHERS MAKE Feb 19/07
What Will it Matter March 6/07
WHAT WILL MATTER Jan 16/08
What You Thought... Feb 23/07
What's Most Important November 20/06
What's the miracle cost Sept 14/07
When God Made Fathers June 11/06
WHEN GOD SAYS NO Jan 17/07
When I am alone Oct 12/07
When I Whine August 31/07
WHEN ITS TIME Oct 5/07
WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU A KICK Sept 11/06
When Life Leaves You Dangling December 19/06
When Tomorrow Starts Without Me
When We Need a New Beginning Jan 8/2007
When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking November 8/06
Where are you now May 8
Where I Leave off And you Begin April 11
Where is God's Perfection July 11/07
Where Two Ways Met Dec 7/07
WHERE WAS GOD April 15/08
(The) Whipping Sept 26/07
Whistling Pete Sept 13/06
Whispers of a child's love May 27/08
(A) WHITE CHRISTMAS December 20/06
White Gardenia June 18/07
Who Are They April 25/08
(The) Whole Picture April 21/06
Whose list are you on May 5/06
Why God Made Mothers May 3/07
Why Mother's Cry May 10/07
Why Not For Man July 25/07
Why The Possums Tail Is Bare June 5/06
WHY WAIT TO FORGIVE June 14/08
Why Women Love Men! March 30/08
(The) Will To Win Feb 5/08
Windchimes of the Soul April 21/08
Window Salesman August 18/07
Windows of the Heart May 12/06
(The) Winds of the Universe Jan 20/07
wisdom to know the difference May 10/08
Wishes August 14/06
With Friends July 2/07
(THE) WOLVES WITHIN November 13
Woman Against Machines April 7/08
(A) WOMAN SHOULD HAVE Feb 13/07
(A) Woman's Worth May 14/06
(A) WONDERFUL GIFT April 18/07
Words of Wisdom June 15/06
Words to Live By...I Believe July 8/08
WORKERS PRIDE Aug 28/08
WORTH OF A WOMAN Sept 17/07
WORK OF OUR SOULS April 15/08
Working on Christmas Day December 21/06
Wrong funeral August 4/07
You and the Lord Jan 21/08
YOU ARE HERE April 21/08
You can find angels in the strangest places. Jan 30/07
You Can Do It! Aug 25/10
You can smile Jan 22/08
You CAN Take It With You May 3/08
You Can't Make Them Love You Jan 23/08
(The) Young Lion - Fable Dec 5/07
Young teachers April 22/06
Your Actions Do Count March 14/07
Your Life in Your Face Jan 7/2007
Your Mansion Aug 18/08
Your Mother is always with you. May 12/07
YOUR TURN July 17/08
You're a Keeper May 18/06
It had been raining during Friday night and I woke up early on Saturday morning, hoping for more rain so that I could wash my car. You see, I live in Melbourne, Victoria, a State in south eastern Australia where we have severe restrictions on water usage, so, I only wash my car when it is raining. I had a bucket, sponge, 'car soap' and umbrella at the ready. It had been quite a while since we had any rain and my car was extremely dirty and looked very neglected!
When I looked outside my window, the sun was shining and the rain had completely stopped. My hopes of washing my car in the rain were dashed. I stood outside, staring at my car and wondered what could have been. Then I noticed all the droplets of water on my car, shining in the radiant morning sunshine.
Right, there and then, it clicked - I could still wash my already wet car and then rinse it off with some rain water I had collected when it last rained!
So, time to get to work! The air was fresh, the sunshine was slightly warm and before I knew it, I had washed my car clean, all in the sunshine without an umbrella.
What's next, I thought? It is a sunny day, so, I had time to take my dog for a walk. He always loves to walk and enjoys the exercise and so do I. While walking, I said 'good morning' and smiled at a man who was mowing his lawn. I also said 'good morning' to another gentleman who was walking his dogs.
I could see my shadow and my dog's shadow on the ground, as the morning sun beamed upon us from behind.
I was totally oblivious to my so called 'dashed hopes' of washing my car in the rain. I kept patting my dog as we walked. He would look up at me and his eyes and face expressed his joy in being able to have an early morning walk in the sunshine.
Not an hour ago, I had woken up and felt overwhelmed with excitement to wash my car in the rain. Now, I was overwhelmed with gratitude at the priceless feeling of walking with my dog on a fresh sunny morning!
As I was walking back home, I saw a little puppy who stuck his nose out of the gate where he lived and wagged his tail at me. I gave him a pat on the nose. Then I saw my neighbour leaving home in his car. I waved at him and he gave me a wave back.
I got home and sat in the front porch soaking up the sun, whilst I reflected on the morning's events. I realised that, because the sun was shining:
• I washed my car without
an umbrella.
• I enjoyed the fresh air and the warmth of the early morning.
• I took my dog for a walk.
• I said 'good morning' and smiled at a man who was mowing his lawn.
• I said 'good morning' to another man, walking his dogs.
• I said hello and patted a happy little puppy.
• I waved at my neighbour as he left home.
While I was doing all of this, Bob Marley's classic . . . 'Sun is shining, the weather is sweet' kept ringing in my head. How appropriate, I thought! Had it still been raining, none of this would have been possible!
Had I been too hung up on the fact that the rain had cleared, it would have potentially set the tone for the rest of the day. Now, I had completely overlooked the fact that when I woke up, the rain had stopped, because all my energy and attention was centred on the joy I had experienced and the abundance of gratitude that I was feeling.
Clear blue skies, the sun shining just above the horizon, fresh air, a clean car, a happy dog and a grateful me - that was more than enough to send my spirits soaring to a much higher dimension!
Even on a grey day, it is important to remember that the sun is shining somewhere and it will shine on you in its own time. The key is to look for the best available opportunities, right there in front of you, and make the most out of them.
I had a great start to a great day, because the sun was shining!
Inspired by a sunny start to the day and written by Ron Prasad
Ron Prasad works as a Life Coach, when he is not washing his car
in the rain, walking his dog and enjoying life. You can find out more about Ron
at . . . 
Impetus
Success >>> or send him an e-mail of
appreciation for his story at . . . e-mail
Ron Prasad >>>
HOW TO BE WEALTHY
Friendships are priceless, time is invaluable,
health is wealth, and love is a treasure, so ...
Create a nest egg of
beautiful memories that you can
dip into from time to time to ease any sorrows.
Have the kind of
remembrances that raise you up with
their worth and keep you there with their wonder.
Always have a secret
supply of hopes on hand
to help you plan your tomorrows.
Remember that when you
invest in your dreams,
it is impossible to overpay.
Give away smiles and
watch them
come back to you a hundred times over.
Stuff your pockets with
kindness and optimism;
there is nothing more precious in the world.
I'm sharing this advice
with you today because
YOU are such a valued part of my life.
~ Author Unknown ~
A Version of This Story Originally Ran
as #370: 30 December 2002 -+
www.HeroicStories.com
"You Can Do It!" Story Editor:
by Ted Edinger Joyce
Schowalter
Louisiana,
USA
I grew up on a small
North Dakota
town back in the 50s and 60s. My
brother-in-law was a farmer, so we kids were taught at an early age to
drive tractors and other vehicles. I started driving tractor for my
brother-in-law during the summer of my 11th birthday.
One summer day near that time my dad's pickup needed to be moved, so he
told me to back it up. Unfortunately, I backed into our swing set,
bending the A-frame but not damaging the pickup. I was scared because I
wasn't sure how Dad would react. Dad wasn't mad, but came over and moved
the pickup himself.
Then as a teenager I worked for Jim Seitz during the summer on his farm.
Jim had a self-propelled windrower that we used for cutting hay during
the summer and grain during fall harvest. I loved to drive the windrower
that cut the grain and laid it in rows so the combine could come along
to pick it up and harvest the grain.
One day, I drove the windrower to get gas from the big farmyard fuel
tank. The fuel tank was mounted on a big metal frame 12 feet high. I ran
into the frame, breaking one of the machine's wooden slats.
I stopped the machine and got off. I assumed Jim would back it up for
me, as my father had. To my surprise, Jim said, "Get back up on that
machine -- you can do it." And I did! Talk about a confidence builder --
my self-confidence went sky high that day.
During harvest, Jim had me do custom windrowing with that same machine,
which pushed my confidence level up several more notches. I would take
off the drive chains, bolt on a special hitch, then hitch it to a pickup
truck and pull the windrower backward down country roads to whatever
fields needed to be cut that day.
Many other little gestures of confidence -- plus the "can do" attitude
Jim had toward me -- carried me through some hard times.
In particular, he helped me get through my army basic training. One day
my actions weren't to our Drill Sergeant's satisfaction. He made me
stand next to a wall and beat my head against it while repeating, "I'm a
dud, I'm a dud, I'm a dud." While I was doing this, the image of that
summer day on the farm and Jim telling me "Get back up there, you can do
it!" came flooding back to my mind. I knew the words the sergeant was
making me say weren't true; he didn't break my spirit!
Jim's "can do" attitude helped me through basic training, advanced
individual training, and jump school. From that training, I became an
airborne military policeman with the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort
Bragg,
North Carolina. It just goes
to show what a huge impact can be
created by small gestures of faith and confidence in a person.
By Larisee Lynn Stevens
Our family was large and spread across the nation, but summers were the highlight of the year for the grandkids. Each of the two dozen grandkids spent any where from a week to a month during the summer with our grandparents living the idyllic life. We cousins loved playing together, even though Grandpa made us get up by 8 a.m. and go to bed by 10 p.m.
Grandma and Grandpa lived in a small town. We could ride bikes and go to the park at will. We made forts, went to the movies, and went swimming every day. There were usually enough of us visiting at any one time that we could play group games such as hide and seek. It was a great time of fun and drawing closer to our kin and every one of we cousins loved summers at our grandparent's house.
While lighthearted and appreciating a good joke, Grandpa lived by a strict code of rules. He believed in honesty, logic, respect, hard work, living life on a schedule and healthy living. Fresh air, plenty of exercise and a nutritious diet limited in sweets was his idea of the proper way to live. Two of his rules for a proper diet, which, for most of the year he vigorously lived up to, were no snacking between meals and no soda pop.
Most kids can find an adult's vulnerability to exploit and we learned Grandpa had a crack in his strict facade of rules when we discovered his weakness for ice cream and root beer! Now he would never admit to this weakness and he worked hard to justify it, bending his ever-present logic to cover his lapse in conviction. We knew not to kill opportunity when it knocked, so we didn't point out the broken rule.
The highlight of our days occurred on the front porch with Grandpa giving in to his weakness. Every afternoon when we arrived home from swimming, he would gather us on the porch and serve up root beer floats! If our parents happened to comment or complain (because they never got root beer floats as children) on his loosening his rule about snacking, he called it "a late dessert from lunch." (Never mind that Sundays were the only time Grandma made dessert.)
We also learned he considered root beer "different" from soda pop, although he never explained how. We never argued with Grandpa's logic, which usually got us refills.
A grandmother myself now, I can still see the satisfied grin on Grandpa's face as he exclaimed over the great satisfaction one got from a "really good root beer float on a hot day." Every time I go for an afternoon piece of chocolate cake, I remember Grandpa and his "late dessert from lunch" concept for bending a self-discipline rule. Thanks Grandpa! I salute your insight!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Larisee Lynn Stevens is a speaker, writer, and teacher who lives in Amarillo, Texas and misses the simplicity of life in her childhood but isn't shy about using the wonderful technology of today. You can read more of her stories in 'Making the Blue Plate Special' by Florence Littauer, Lauren Littauer-Briggs, and Marita Littauer. Lairsee can be reached at mariahsplace@suddenink.net
A young lady named Sally, relates an experience she had in a seminary class
given by her teacher, Dr. Smith. She says Dr. Smith was known for his elaborate
object lessons.
One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary and knew they were in for a fun day. On the wall was a big target and on a nearby table were many darts.
Dr. Smith told the students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts at the person’s picture.
Sally’s girlfriend drew a picture of a girl who had stolen her boyfriend. Another friend drew a picture of his little brother. Sally drew a picture of a former friend, putting a great deal of detail into her drawing, even drawing pimples on the face. Sally was pleased with the overall effect she had achieved.
The class lined up and began throwing darts, with much laughter and hilarity. Some of the students threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripping apart.
Sally looked forward to her turn, and was filled with disappointment when Dr. Smith, because of time limits, asked the students to return to their seats.
As Sally was thinking about how angry she was because she didn’t have a chance to throw any darts at her target, Dr. Smith began removing the target from the wall.
Underneath the target was a picture of Jesus…
A complete hush fell over the room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus, holes and jagged marks covered His face and His eyes were pierced.
Dr. Smith said these words, “In as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
No other words were necessary; the tear-filled eyes of each student focused only on the picture of Christ.
“And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’ – Matthew 25:40
Everybody is talking about the money thing these days.
And with good reason. There’s all kinds of crazy stuff going on. Like . . . you know . . . that really big company that went bankrupt or something. And that other big company that . . . sort of . . . you know . . . bought out another big company. And then there’s Fannie Mae, who is not one of the “Beverly Hillbillies” but who evidently has more to do with someone named Freddie Mac than she does with Jethro Bodine. And then there’s Hurricane Ike, which . . . well, I’m not exactly sure what Hurricane Ike has to do with the whole money discussion, but it was devastating and I’m sure it did . . . you know . . . devastating stuff.
Economically as well as meteorologically.
OK, so I’m faking it here. The minute you start talking numbers and dollar signs, my eyes glaze over and I mentally retreat to my happy place. I won’t say exactly where my happy place is, but whenever I go there I end up humming “It’s a Small World” the rest of the day.
And I’ve been humming “It’s a Small World” a LOT recently.
That’s why I’m assuming there’s heavy-duty financial stuff going on in the world, which probably explains why I paid more for a gallon of gasoline yesterday than I used to pay to fill up my Volkswagen back in the day.
Or maybe it doesn’t explain it. Like I said, I’m not fluent in Econese.
Thankfully, I don’t have to be. Years ago I met someone who is really savvy with regards to money and numbers and stuff like that, and I married her. Anita tells me everything I need to know about money, which generally is, “Don’t spend it.” Or if I do, “Make sure to give me the receipt.” She’s keeping up with all this recent money stuff. It actually seems to interest her. She even knows how to pronounce and spell Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke’s last name.
The other day she tried to explain the whole Fannie/Freddie/Bernanke scenario to me. According to observers, I went from mildly interested to full glaze-over so fast that Usain Bolt is calling and asking for tips. Thankfully, Anita has learned to recognize the glaze, and to accept it as part of the package she got when she married me.
For better or for worse.
For richer, for poorer.
‘Til debt do we part.
I’ve been thinking about this today because . . . well, everyone is talking about the money thing – whatever it may actually be. And also because I heard about a young friend, barely a newlywed, whose marriage is struggling over the money thing. And the communication thing. And especially the difference thing. All those frighteningly, maddeningly wonderful “things” that make marriage so challenging – and so sweet.
Anyone who has been married for any length of time can appreciate the difficulty of bringing together two very different lives, and from them making one shared life. As a result, we probably all have our own thoughts and ideas about what it takes to build and maintain a successful marriage. Heaven knows I do. But somewhere on every list of marriage tips and recommendations should be this foundational truth: the things that we have in common are what bring us together, but our ability to embrace and find joy in our differences is what keeps us together.
Even with the money thing.
Maybe ESPECIALLY with the money thing.
by Mary Conner
It had been just an average day at work. Not the best of days but not the worst either, or so I thought. My husband and I closed our shop and left sharply at 5pm.
I would soon realize that this had indeed become the worst day of our lives.
Our 16 year old daughter was at home. She rode the school bus and usually she would give me a call around 4pm to let me know she had made it home safely. Sometimes though, she and a friend would visit in the yard, or she might play with her dog instead of going inside immediately, and forget to call. So when I did not receive her usual call and she did not answer mine, I was not overly concerned. But for some reason, I had a strange feeling inside.
As we entered the front door of our home I noticed her books were not on the table where she always put them and I could see her feet in the doorway where she was lying on the floor. As we rushed to her room we found the horrible truth that changed our lives forever.
Through the years I replayed that day over and over in my mind. I lived in guilt because I did not see her depression and was unable to help. In my thoughts and dreams, I would change the events before that tragic day. We would have long talks about her problems. Then we would work them out and everything would be ok.
Ten years later, life was better but those thoughts still haunted me. I was working with a marketing company and met another lady who worked in the same organization. Since we lived near each other, we planned a big event to bring new customers out to purchase our products.
Two days before the big event, I received a call from my new friend. I didn't know her well but I knew something was wrong. I could hear many emotions in her voice -- sorrow, desperation and remorse. She told me how sorry she was that she would not be able to help complete our project.
Normally I would have just said "that's OK" and got off of the phone. But instead I continued talking, purposely keeping her on the line. She had said she could not make the event because she would be somewhere else. So, I asked. "Where are you going?"
She said, "I am going somewhere where no one will have to worry about me again."
With a little prodding she told me of other burdens that seemed too great for her to continue living. So, I asked if she had children and she answered, "No." I asked her if her parents were alive and she said her mother was still living and that she had a sister and her mother would be ok.
Then, I told her how wrong she was.
I told her I knew how much her mother would suffer because I had lost a child and I know it's the worst kind of pain a parent can ever feel. Children just don't see the bond that a parent feels for them.
You give them life, they are an extension of your own life, and you feel responsible to them as long as you live. You never expect to see your children die before you.
I also told her that no matter what she was facing, it would pass and life would get better with time. But, if she died, her mother would wake up every day for the rest of her life and know that she would never see her child again.
Then I asked, "Can you really do that to your mother?"
Quietly she answered, "No." I noticed a change in her voice. I did not hear those emotions any more. She promised that she would not do anything that would cause someone else pain.
Knowing she would be all right, I let her get off the phone. Then I sat quietly for a long time taking in what had just happened. God had arranged for our paths to cross. We both needed something from each other. My friend needed someone to show her that things could be worse than what she was experiencing, and I needed to give someone what I could not give my child -- a reason to live.
Our marketing event was a big failure but it didn't matter.
I felt better that weekend than I had felt in many years.
God gives us blessings when we least expect them.
-- Mary Conner <mfconner at suddenlink.net>
____________________________________________
Mary says, "I know it is still a sad story but I think it tells about how God helps us to overcome grief. It is heartwarming for me to think about the gift He gave me -- the chance to help someone else."
I'M Lost
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com
I had what to me was a strange deal yesterday. I go around, and pick up
kids and a few adults for church on Sunday morning. After church I
get them back to starting point. This day, when I got rid of what I
thought was the last, I still had two boys, about age 5 and 6 or so. I
knew I had not picked up these two brats, and was at a loss as to
where both was to go. As it turned out they were brothers,, so one
should have a clue where home is.
Well I get a fast answer, we don't know, but it is a place where a
big truck is parked, also there is a big white house, and a motorbike
parked there. I asked if they knew even a telephone number. No we
don't, and by this time the oldest is crying.
I was told if you take us back to the church, our mother will come pick
us up. Well now that is a problem. How is she to know, if the
plan was for her to have picked them up to start with, she would have
been there.
I remembered the preacher telling me, his wife was going to pick up
these two, as it is a hard place to find. I then remembered
something about meet us, that is preacher and wife, at the hospital,
for dinner. So off we go to the hospital. No they haven't made
it. Well back to church. it is almost a bee line deal any ways.. I
will find them, maybe they're not lost, but I sure am with two
lost kids. Church locked up tight, so I then head for preachers
house. It still is almost a beeline. Well happy days are here.
There is the preachers car, and she is standing there. I stopped and
told my lost story. Good deal, I got rid of my problem. They
will return kids to home.
I got the van back to church, and then headed for the hospital. We
was sitting there at the table, and I said,, you know, something sure
is wrong here. I had these two, and both had no clue to where they
lived. No address, no phone, nor anything that told me which way to go.
I can now understand the feelings of a poor lost pet. But at least a
pet, you would not think those would be able to tell you a street
address. A kid of 6 or so yes. Maybe we better start putting a chip
in the brats like so many of us pet lovers do for our pets.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5
(c) Tony Masiello 2008
As many times before, my gardening rituals brought about some thoughts. The other day I learned a lesson; but not one of which I didn?t know about already. The lesson just became clearer because of my hands-on experience.
We have a large pot of panatunies growing in our back yard. You might ask, ?What are panatunies?? When our daughter was about 3 years old she proclaimed the name of our petunias by combining the name pansies and petunias. We have used that name ever since to describe our petunias.
Just like roses, if you want more blooms to occur on your petunias, you need to snap off the dried up buds. I don?t mind at all deadheading petunias or roses; in fact it?s rather relaxing. But here I was working with this big pot of petunias, which are a beautiful deep purple. As I was standing on one side of the pot I picked all the dead ones I could see, and thought I was through. However as I began to move around the pot I began to see more and more of them. For a while I thought I would never finish. I began to lift up the stems to discover more underneath.
The result I am always trying to bring about is to help maintain a nice looking pot of panatunies. This work always rewards me with new blooms. A few days of laziness had got me to this place and I was paying the price.
The thought that came to me is that if we procrastinate, we pay a price or even worse. We may have to do something over and over to keep the beauty of what we want to accomplish.
In other words, change your perception, your view. Heck, stand at a different spot if you have to. There are times (sometimes many) that you feel you?re going around in circles picking off old dried blooms, but what you are really doing is clearing up old negative garbage and being persistent trying out new ideas.
If you want your life to look and feel great there are times that you may have to do something over and over while you?re looking under your old beliefs and picking them off to bring forth new and vibrant ones.
Ideas with right action equal a great life, but if you don?t feel you?re there yet then go back to the pot of panatunies and start over again. You will then find your life enriched with new vibrant blooms.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tony Masiello is an Author and Intuitive Consultant. He is the author of the e-book, Whispers from the Universe, which is a collection of writings that will help you, motivate you, inspire you and guide you along the inner path of your life. http://www.whispersbook.com
http://www.universalinsight.com
On the surface, it appeared that Nicole had everything in the world going for her.
By any standard of measurement, she was a beautiful young woman. She had a bright, buoyant, bubbly personality that endeared her to teenagers and adults alike. She had lots of friends, and they were active in lots of different things. And she was deeply devoted to her faith.
When you saw Nicole you smiled, mostly because she was almost always smiling her happy, infectious smile. That's just the way she was, and that’s how she made others feel: happy.
At least, that's how it appeared.
But deep inside, she was crying.
Nicole has Attention Deficit Disorder, (ADD), a neurological problem that is a learning disability. No matter how hard she tried to keep up in her classes, her mind just wouldn’t make many of the conceptual connections that other students made without even trying. She could understand what was being taught at any particular moment in time; she just couldn’t put it together with other concepts to form a logical sequence of thoughts or events.
And that made school pretty traumatic for her, and incredibly frustrating. She tried hard to keep up – or to at least cover her lack of understanding – but that just made her anxious, stressed and, often, depressed. Self-esteem is usually the first victim in a battle with ADD. Of course, only her family saw this side of her. She managed to keep up a happy, cheerful front among her friends at school, but her family saw the toll it was taking on her soul.
Her junior year of high school was especially challenging, and the whole family was suffering. They tried family counseling, and it helped a little. But as the start of Nicole's senior year approached, the now-familiar feeling of pressure and dread began building, and the family geared up for one more year.
One night while Nicole was out with friends, Hannah, her then-16-yea-old sister, felt an overwhelming desire to communicate her feelings to Nicole. She took a notebook and sat on the front porch and began writing all the things she admired about her big sister, and expressed her appreciation for the important role she had played in her life. Love and heartfelt gratitude flowed onto the paper, and then Hannah stuffed it into an envelope and placed it on Nicole's pillow.
When Nicole came home, she had an attitude (parents of teenagers know exactly what I'm talking about). The night had not been particularly pleasant, and she just wanted to retreat to her room. She closed the door firmly behind her. Within moments her door burst open and she rushed to Hannah's room, tears streaming down her face and Hannah's letter clutched in her hand.
"You saw the prayer I wrote, didn't you?" Nicole said tearfully as she embraced her sister.
"No," Hannah replied through her own tears. "I didn't know you wrote a prayer."
Nicole showed her sister what she had written in her journal earlier that day: "Dear God, all I want is for somebody to appreciate me for who and what I am. That's all I want."
It's amazing what a little shot of sincere appreciation can do for someone lacking in the self-esteem department. Within a few weeks Nicole was standing in front of 600 peers at a youth retreat, publicly acknowledging her struggle with ADD and expressing appreciation to Hannah – and to God. And while I won't say that her senior year was easy, she made it. Today she is a beautiful young mother, with a great family and some excellent possibilities ahead of her. It is looking once again like she has everything in the world going for her.
Whether or not she actually does.
by Nancy B. Gibbs
I remember quite well a day 17 years ago.
That day our twin sons, Chad and Brad, loaded their car and left home to attend college. I got up early that morning and cooked breakfast while wiping away tears. I sat our "table for five" and realized how all of our lives were about to change.
I noticed how quietness engulfed our kitchen that morning. The five of us sat down to breakfast. Nobody had anything to say, however. Not one of us knew what to say. Sure, the boys would be coming home on the weekends, but even so, I knew our family life would never be exactly the same again.
The boys rambled around each room of the house to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything they needed. I packed a cooler with drinks and their favorite cold snacks. I found a box and filled it with essential food items. When my mind tricked me into thinking they might go to bed hungry that night, I emptied my wallet and placed the little bit of cash I had in their hands.
We all walked outside. Chad and Brad gave me big hugs and quickly got into their car. I waved as they drove away. When I couldn't see their car any longer, I began to sob. I sat down on the driveway, placed my face in my hands and cried harder than I had cried in a long time. My husband Roy tried to console me, but I could see grief in his eyes, as well.
Five years later, we went through many of the same emotions when our daughter, Becky moved away from home. We had become somewhat accustomed to our "table for three." We were sad that it would soon become a "table for two."
There are many parents dreading this time of year. Bittersweet feelings will be present.
While these parents feel pride and joy for their children, they will also feel a sense of grief. Painful moments will fill their minds. While I cannot adequately explain the feelings, I can still remember how I felt when we began that new chapter in our lives.
The new chapter meant the telephone didn't ring as much. The house was quieter. I longed to see messy bedrooms once again. I would have loved to referee another sibling squabble.
The worse feeling I had was the thought I was no longer needed.
Of course, I was proud that my children were self-sufficient. I knew down deep they wouldn't starve. But I would have loved to have gotten up early and prepared lunches just one more time. I needed to be needed.
Time rocked on, however. Roy and I are now accustomed to the quaintness of our table for two and we enjoy our lives together. Every night is date night for us. Our dinner table is usually at someone's restaurant. As an added bonus "dinner for two" is much more affordable than dinner out for an entire family.
I have to admit I still miss our children and the old times we had together. But I also have to say I better enjoy the time I spend with the man of my dreams than ever before.
Change is not always easy. If you are one of those parents who have just said goodbye to a child headed off to college, let me prepare you for some hard and lonely days, weeks and even months.
But let me also say that a new chapter in your life is just ahead. Hold on tight until then. Look to God for direction and strength. Renew your vows to the one you love. And when you go to your favorite restaurant say with a strong voice and a great deal of courage, "Table for two, please."
Roy and I have always enjoyed each other's company, but after the children moved away, we found a great amount of strength in each other. Some things have changed over the years. Our love for one another has grown stronger with each passing day.
Together, Roy and I are now doing things we never dreamed possible. Our children oftentimes talk about how we are busier and happier than we have ever been before. Could it be because we fell deeper in love as we spent quality time together at our table for two?
We can find good in every situation when we give every situation to God.
-- Nancy Gibbs <Nancybgibbs at aol.com>
____________________________________________
Nancy and Roy, from Georgia, work together in the ministry. Nancy is a writer, author and Christian motivational speaker. Roy is a pastor, evangelist, musician and is currently running for state representative. They have raised three wonderful children and are now enjoying being grandparents to three lovely little ladies. Nancy speaks at women's conferences, teas and banquets across the country. You can visit her website here: http://www,nancygibbs.com
Once upon a time the colours of the world started to quarrel. All claimed that they were the best, the most important, the most useful or the favourite colour.
Green said - 'Clearly I am the most important. I am the sign of life and of hope. I was chosen for grass, trees and leaves. Without me, all animals would die. Look over the countryside and you will see that I am in the majority.'
Blue interrupted - 'You only think about the earth, but consider the sky and the sea. It is the water that is the basis of life and drawn up by the clouds from the deep sea. The sky gives space and peace and serenity. Without my peace, you would all be nothing.'
Yellow chuckled - 'You are all so serious. I bring laughter, gaiety, and warmth into the world. The sun is yellow, the moon is yellow, and the stars are yellow. Every time you look at a sunflower, the whole world starts to smile. Without me there would be no fun.'
Orange started next to blow her trumpet - 'I am the colour of health and strength. I may be scarce, but I am precious for I serve the needs of human life. I carry the most important vitamins. Think of carrots, pumpkins, oranges, mangoes, and papayas. I don't hang around all the time, but when I fill the sky at sunrise or sunset, my beauty is so striking that no one gives another thought to any of you.'
Red could stand it no longer he shouted out - 'I am the ruler of all of you. I am blood - life's blood! I am the colour of danger and of bravery. I am willing to fight for a cause. I bring fire into the blood. Without me, the earth would be as empty as the moon. I am the colour of passion and of love, the red rose, the poinsettia and the poppy.'
Purple rose up to his full height - He was very tall and spoke with great pomp - 'I am the colour of royalty and power. Kings, chiefs, and bishops have always chosen me for I am the sign of authority and wisdom. People do not question me! They listen and obey.'
Finally Indigo spoke, much more quietly than all the others, but with just as much determination: 'Think of me. I am the colour of silence. You hardly notice me, but without me you all become superficial. I represent thought and reflection, twilight and deep water. You need me for balance and contrast, for prayer and inner peace.'
And so the colours went on boasting, each convinced of his or her own superiority. Their quarrelling became louder and louder. Suddenly there was a startling flash of bright lightening thunder rolled and boomed. Rain started to pour down relentlessly. The colours crouched down in fear, drawing close to one another for comfort.
In the midst of the clamour, rain began to speak: 'You foolish colours, fighting amongst yourselves, each trying to dominate the rest. Don't you know that you were each made for a special purpose, unique and different? Join hands with one another and come to me.'
Doing as they were told, the colours united and joined hands.
The rain continued: 'From now on, when it rains, each of you will stretch across the sky in a great bow of colour as a reminder that you can all live in peace. The Rainbow is a sign of hope for tomorrow.' And so, whenever a good rain washes the world, and a Rainbow appears in the sky, let us remember to appreciate one another and say I'm grateful there was you.
Author Unknown
|
Dear Love, Is that you? I see the telltale signs and sense your nearing presence. I feel the joy, the laughter, the happiness, the tenderness the eagerness, the need as you get closer an closer. You are such a mysterious and inexplicable creature. You arrive quite unexpectedly, from out of the clear blue sky, flirting, teasing. You creep in swiftly and silently. I look up and there you are. Love, why do you pound at the door of my heart, demanding to be let in? You promise anything and everything to gain entry into my fortress, spinning my head around, quickening my pulse, bringing with you, as always, joy and pain. Haven't I asked you not to visit me again? For though your visits lift me to heights of heaven, when you go, I am dropped to the depths of despair. Nevertheless, I let you in once again, even though I should know better by this time. Please be careful with my heart, as it is only recently recovered from your last visit. Come on in, and perhaps, this time, you've really come to stay. Sincerely, Your Old Friend ~by Norma Burnett~ |
|
I needed no church or Bible
The gentle flow of the water
for I was witnessing a
miracle in a place
I listened to His music
the melody of the water
As I took in the beauty of
the waterfall
I knew that my loving God
~Author Unknown~ |
by Beth Fryer
I've had fridge art from three grandchildren.
They're all priceless works, so some samples have been kept to delight me with pleasant memories during rainy-day treasure hunts.
Sometimes there are ancient discoveries -- works done by their mom some thirty years ago. Like the plastic butter dish used to mount a drawing of her family. Three people sporting age-labeled T-shirts. Herself with a 6. Me, at 27, red hair still intact! Her dad, with a huge 43. He did not appreciate her momentary dyslexia!
I, on the other hand, was tickled by this production. I became her stepmom just months earlier. She lived with us, but it was still a proud surprise to be included in her family portrait.
Then there's her seashell decorated with paper and marker saying, "I'm sorry. I will never forget you." I no longer recall what transgression preceded this declaration. It may have come after a spousal argument that left her suspecting I would leave. If so, it was certainly a more heartwarming sentiment than her reaction on another such occasion when she tearfully whimpered, "Are you going to take your stereo?"
Her works of art are mostly buried in boxes, but the queen of my kid art mementos sits in a kitchen cupboard. Yes, it's housed in the catch-all cupboard, but it's on the front of the top shelf where I can see it.
My daughter made it when she was 7. A detergent bottle cap with a styrofoam ball. Plastic fork, handle broken and inserted to stick out just enough to hold a recipe card. Pink carnation to cover the ball, pink ribbon trimming the bottle cap, and voila! The absolute best recipe holder ever!
And indeed it is. Because it was my first Mother's Day gift ever! It's not packed away. It's there where I can glance at it occasionally, a reminder of a little girl who stole my heart and made my life complete. One who every now and then, with a butter dish family portrait or a detergent cap recipe holder, made me feel loved -- something that showed me I had made it! I was really accepted! I was in!
And isn't that what kid art always is? Kids bestow their gifts upon us to show their love and affection. They don't fake it. Every piece of kid art ever handed to us is a seal of approval, a medal of honor. Don't take it lightly! If you get kid art, you know that in the eyes of that child, you are special and deserve the best. Display that award proudly.
Come to think of it, I think a certain recipe holder needs a better spot.
-- Beth Fryer <bfryer at nbn.net>
____________________________________________
Beth is a teacher and grandmother, collector of kid art in school and at home in Lebanon, Pennsylvania. She says, "Kid art is a joy! One of my prized possessions is a picture drawn by my granddaughter. It shows a stick-figure me feeding two cats. There's a heart above their dishes to show that I love them. I have the red hair that was long gone, but Lydia had heard and remembered. The framed drawing is prominently displayed."
The Strangest
Secret
(excerpt) by Earl Nightingale
George Bernard Shaw said, “People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don’t believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can’t find them, they make them.”
Well, it’s pretty apparent, isn’t it? And every person who discovered this believed (for a while) that he was the first one to work it out. We become what we think about.
Conversely, the person who has no goal, who doesn’t know where he’s going, and whose thoughts must therefore be thoughts of confusion, anxiety and worry – his life becomes one of frustration, fear, anxiety and worry. And if he thinks about nothing… he becomes nothing.
How does it work? Why do we become what we think about? Well, I’ll tell you how it works, as far as we know. To do this, I want to tell you about a situation that parallels the human mind.
Suppose a farmer has some land, and it’s good, fertile land. The land gives the farmer a choice; he may plant in that land whatever he chooses. The land doesn’t care. It’s up to the farmer to make the decision.
We’re comparing the human mind with the land because the mind, like the land, doesn’t care what you plant in it. It will return what you plant, but it doesn’t care what you plant.
Now, let’s say that the farmer has two seeds in his hand- one is a seed of corn, the other is nightshade, a deadly poison. He digs two little holes in the earth and he plants both seeds-one corn, the other nightshade. He covers up the holes, waters and takes care of the land…and what will happen? Invariably, the land will return what was planted. As it’s written in the Bible, “As ye sow, so shall ye reap.”
Remember the land doesn’t care. It will return poison in just as wonderful abundance as it will corn. So up come the two plants - one corn, one poison.
The human mind is far more fertile, far more incredible and mysterious than the land, but it works the same way. It doesn’t care what we plant… success...or failure. A concrete, worthwhile goal…or confusion, misunderstanding, fear, anxiety and so on. But what we plant it must return to us.
You see, the human mind is the last great unexplored continent on earth. It contains riches beyond our wildest dreams. It will return anything we want to plant.
|
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the "dean of personal development," For the first time, Earl Nightingale's famous words are presented in a beautifully designed gift book with a CD of his original recording. This inspirational message is as timely today as it was when first written. |
By: Joseph J. Mazzella
I helped my daughter move into her college dorm recently. She took a little teasing from her old Dad about all the boxes and suitcases she brought. I thought she had packed way too much stuff, but then I saw what the girl down the hall had brought. I guess my girl was traveling light, after all. I knew, though, that she had already packed every essential thing for this next great adventure in her life. It was just packed in her heart, soul, and mind.
It is what we pack on the inside not the outside that really determines how well we live. If we pack love in our hearts then our days become filled with happiness. If we pack wisdom in our minds then our lives become full of goodness. If we pack joy in our souls then we make the whole world better. The nice thing about this type of packing too is that there is always room for more. The more we love the larger our heart grows. The more we learn the greater our mind expands. The more joy we share the bigger our soul becomes.
You don’t need a U-Haul to carry around what is essential for a wonderful life. You don’t need any storage lockers to hold what brings you great joy. All you have to do is pack yourself full of the treasures of Heaven. Then you can travel light and share your wealth of love with everyone you meet. Then you can face everything that life throws at you and use it all to become better and to help others as well. Then you really can "take it with you" because what we learned and how we loved are the only things that will go with us into the greater life after this.
I hope that you pack well then for all the adventures to come in this life and in the next. I hope that you fill yourself full to overflowing with love, joy, wisdom, light, and oneness with God. Remember all the things you own in this life will one day turn to dust, but what you carry inside of yourself will live on forever.
Lucky Frog
by
Clara Wersterfer
My husband, David, and I were in Las Vegas about 10 years ago for four days. To say I was a loser is a gross understatement. I dropped coins in nickel machines, quarter machines and even put money in the dollar machines. None of them liked me enough to give me any return of my money.
We had enjoyed the food and entertainment and David had won a little, but alas, not I. It was our last day and our flight was scheduled for late afternoon. We had a delightful breakfast buffet, checked out, stored our bags and still had hours before our scheduled pickup for return to airport. What else could I do except put another twenty dollars in the quarter machine? I was determined to not load it with the required number of quarters which was three per pull. I was just playing one at each pull of the handle.
Half way through a roll of quarters a gentleman came and sat on the stool beside me. He asked if I was having any luck. I told him, "Nope, no luck in four days."
"Just a minute, I will get my Lucky Frog and let you rub it. That will change your luck." With that remark he removed a tiny little wad of tissue paper from his pocket. Opening it I saw a little ceramic green frog about the size of my thumb nail. The man told me he had gotten the frog from an old lady in Hawaii who had blessed it. This was his first time to try it out and so far it had worked.
What did I have to lose, besides more quarters? I rubbed his frog several time, wrapped it back in the tissue and returned it.
The man then encouraged me to put three quarters at a time in the machine. On the third pull, I won 800 quarters! While waiting for the machine to pay off I dropped a few in the adjoining machine and won 300 more! I was scooping up quarters and filling buckets, pausing only to throw three more quarters in the machine. Three gold sevens came up for a thousand quarters! So far I had won over $500 dollars.
The man beside me was elated. He patted my arm and said, "See, I knew it would change your luck to rub my frog"
I didn't know David had heard the commotion the machines made when I won and had walked up behind me just in time to hear what the man said. I turned around and the look on David's face was priceless. I shoved a bucket of quarters in his hands and asked if he would cash them in and I would explain later. I didn't come out a big winner, but did recover most of my losses.
Sure wish I knew where to get one of those Lucky Frogs.
Men vs. Women
Conrad S. Cardinal
When you deal with couples on regular bases you begin to see just how different men and women are. There are books that deal with this subject that would be advantageous for men and women to read. What I would like to share with you is strictly from what I have observed. What’s really amazing is that we get along at all.
In my opinion we differ in all aspects of life and unless one or the other is willing to compromise things don’t work out. Of course the ideal situation is for both partners to be willing to compromise and work towards understanding their differences. Women appear to work at a much more thoughtful and logical level. Even though they are tied to their emotions more than men, they still appear to think things through more readily. Men on the other hand seem to be impulsive and quick to act before they consider the consequences of their decision. I expect there are exceptions to this but in my limited experience this holds true.
It’s interesting to speak with two people about the same encounter or situation and see how different they see things. Women are more likely to be honest about a feeling while men will placate the situation. Women, who I think are more in touch with their emotions, will take things to heart and be upset buy events that don’t seem to affect a man. So he can’t understand why she is so upset and she can’t figure out why he is so untouched by things. What I think happens next is they begin to apply the word ignorant to each other. This of course is not conducive to marital bliss and without an effort on both their parts the void grows wider and wider.
Sex is probably the most misunderstood part of the relationship. With men it’s mental and with women it’s emotional. A woman wants to be courted and made to feel desirable while the man thinks about things and is physically ready to perform. It seems to me that a lot of men have no idea how important the prelude to the act is. Or that she should derive the same pleasure as he during and at the conclusion of the event. What is really amazing about this is that there is so much talk and writing about this subject, yet some men still don’t get the message.
Another problem
that I’ve encountered concerns men thinking it’s all right for them to have
extra marital affairs but heaven help the wife if she does. Of course neither
one should stray from the marriage bed, but the double standard men apply is
baffling. In this case the word ignorant is applicable.
Please remember that I am only sharing observations with you and in no way claim
that there is a scientific bases for my conclusions. I’ve tried to share this
information with my sons and to some degree have been successful. Of the five
boys three get it, one is on the fence and the youngest is totally ignorant.
Conrad
cconseth@aol.com
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OPPORTUNITIES IN DISGUISE |
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For nearly a year, our church had been preparing for a
week-long youth outreach headed by a well known speaker. Then, shortly
before the kick-off date, I discovered there was an event scheduled in our
community on the same dates as our planned meetings. Concerned that this
conflict would slash attendance and reduce the impact on youth we wanted
to reach, I called the speaker to alert him to the problem. His response
to my frail faith has been unforgettable. "Well," he replied, "in every problem faith sees an opportunity and in every opportunity doubt sees a problem." His kind but pointed rebuke convinced me we should proceed with our plans, trusting God for good results. When the time for our youth outreach arrived, the meetings were extremely successful and apparently not even affected by the competition of the other event, reminding me that through faith we can experience success even when conventional wisdom predicts failure. Defeat stalks those who anticipate it. Victory comes to those who expect to win. Problems, then, are not the enemies of faith but opportunities to prove God’s faithfulness. Life’s difficulties provide reasons to exercise faith. And to grow, faith needs exercise. George Mueller was born in 1805 and when very young kept getting into trouble. When he was fourteen, his mother died causing him to become concerned about the direction he was headed. The effect was only temporary, however, and at sixteen he was arrested and jailed as a thief; but better things were ahead for this delinquent. In his early twenties, George became acquainted with a group of people who met regularly for prayer and Bible study, which became a turning point in his life, leading to his later concern for orphans and a desire to help them, though he had few resources. Mueller’s faith finally became so personal and practical that he concluded he could trust God to supply all his needs and those of the thousands of orphans that ultimately became recipients of his care. Near the end of his life, Mueller wrote that fifty thousand of his prayers for the needs of his orphans had been answered, five thousand of them on the day he had prayed. He called problems the "food of faith." Charles Colson, the legal counsel of the Nixon administration, watched his world crumble as a result of the Watergate scandal, not knowing that his greatest days were ahead. While in prison, he became aware of his spiritual needs and those of fellow inmates, causing him to start "Prison Fellowship," which has enabled him to share his life changing story with thousands of prisoners all over the world. Joni Eareckson Tada, found herself confined to a wheelchair for life as the result of a swimming accident but, refusing to allow paralysis to defeat her, has built a worldwide outreach to millions, bringing many to trust her Lord. The list is long of those who have risen up from blows that might have destroyed them and gone on to great accomplishments. We can be among them if we’ll stop pouting over our problems and see them as opportunities in disguise.
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Big and Small
By
Al Batt
I stopped at a chain restaurant. It was a sit down-type place that offered good food along with an irritating loudness from too many TVs.
I ordered a salad that was both green and crunchy. It came in a bushel basket. It was enough to feed me for three days.
I was on my way to visit some people who live in a house not much smaller than the barn in which I spent much of my formative years. It’s a beautiful new house with a three-car garage and enough bathrooms to guarantee there will be no waiting. The speed limit in the driveway had just been raised to 55 miles per hour.
As I drove towards the home, while listening to a radio discussion of companies that are too big to fail, I was passed by several SUVs the size of Rhode Island. The goal of our automakers is to seat everyone comfortably. Entering the city, I noticed garage sale signs posted here, there and everywhere. Trees and utility poles had become want ad sections.
While it’s true that I didn’t spend as much time in a car when I was a boy as I do now and that I grew up on a farm, I do not remember there being so many garage sales, yard sales or rummage sales.
As I neared my destination, I saw several large self-storage units. I don’t recall any such thing while I was growing up.
We have a lot more stuff today than we had back in the day. When we get what we want, we want more.
An argument could be made that we have too much stuff. The stuff we had when I was a lad became old stuff and was passed on to others. Family members could expect a lot of hand-me-downs before they would get new stuff. As the baby of the family, I wore my sister’s high heels to prom. I was lucky I didn’t sprain my ankle doing the twist. My analyst says I will get over it one day.
Today, not having enough stuff defines failure for many. Because we have so much stuff, we need big places to keep it all in—houses, garages and storage units.
I don’t have a lot of stuff. I realize that much of the world would dispute that, but if you would eliminate my ever-burgeoning collection of books, I am not a great accumulator of things. There is an Icelandic proverb that I adhere to, “Blind is a bookless man.” Other than books, I collect only bills. Bills are an easy thing to collect. If I don’t pay one, the creditor sends me another for my collection.
Advances in communications have made it a small world (unless you have to paint it), yet the world has been super-sized. Bigger may not be better, but it certainly is bigger. I am able to go to one of those warehouse places and buy a lifetime supply of toilet paper. I’d have to build an implement shed to house it. That’s what life has become.
The news of the rich and famous proves that getting what we want doesn’t guarantee happiness. A little dog raises a leg on big wheels.
I was digging through my desk drawer when I found a small scrap of paper that my late mother had carried in her purse for many years. It was not currency, not a treasure map, not a stock certificate, but something much better than any of those. It was a tattered copy of “Footprints.” This is familiar prose to many. I suspect that my mother looked to this for help during troubled times. I did the same.
It showed up on a day when I needed a bit of comforting.
It was a small thing, but to me it was a big thing.
We need small things in a big world.
©Al Batt 2008
As my bride of many years greeted me one evening, her voice blasted through the door, "Guess what!"
I always take a deep breath on that very leading question. "What?" I asked.
"I just won a sales contest at work and the prize is dinner for two at the new fancy restaurant down by the riverfront!"
Her excitement was contagious. We knew the restaurant was posh, because we could only understand parts of the menu.
"See? I told you there would be a place for me to wear my new spring outfit," she coyly reminded me.
"Two can play at that game," I responded. "I will wear my gray suit, my Borsalino imported straw hat and a new silk tie. We will be dressed to the nines. This town will never be the same. Almost like our first date."
It was early Spring and nearing dusk as the maitre d' escorted us to a table by a window, with a view of the river. And the table was beautifully set, with a smoke-gray tablecloth accented by bright red napkins, lemon slices in the long-stemmed water glasses, fresh flowers, the works.
We reminisced about our children and grandchildren and their impact on our lives. A delicious meal savored in such an atmosphere should be remembered a long time. As it turned out, that will probably never be forgotten.
As the shadows lengthened, the riverboats rocking in their berths, I murmured, "Why don't we sashay down the esplanade like we did in Paris a few years ago? Remember the fun we had?"
Hand in hand, we strolled by the stores. People smiled and nodded. Lots of smiling and nodding, in fact.
"I never realized there were so many friendly people as we have seen this evening, dear," I observed.
"Probably your new straw hat. Or, the fact that you're such a handsome devil," she countered.
We completed the walking tour past the store windows. After acknowledging many smiles, we found ourselves back at the restaurant, looking at our reflection in the window. It was then that I saw the reason for all the smiles.
Caught in the fly of my trousers and hanging down for all to see was a bright red napkin from the restaurant!
--Duke Raymond
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Cry Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."
What It Means to Be Adopted... Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had a different color hair than the other family members. One child suggested that he was adopted and a little girl said, "I know all about adoptions because I was adopted." "What does it mean to be adopted?" asked another child. "It means," said the girl, "that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy."
Barney A four year old was at the pediatrician for a check up. As the doctor looked down her ears with an otoscope, he asked, "Do you think I'll find Big Bird in here?" The little girl stayed silent. Next, the doctor took a tongue depressor and looked down her throat. He asked, "Do you think I'll find the Cookie Monster down there?" Again, the little girl was silent. Then the doctor put a stethoscope to her chest. As he listened to her heart beat, he asked, "Do you think I'll hear Barney in there?" "Oh, no!" the little girl replied. "Jesus is in my heart. Barney's on my underpants."
Discouraged? As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was. "We're behind 14 to nothing," he answered with a smile. "Really," I said. "I have to say you don't look very discouraged." "Discouraged?" the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face. "Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet."
Roles And How We Play Them... Whenever I'm disappointed
with my spot in my life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie
was trying out for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he'd
set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On
the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after
school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement.
"Guess what Mom," he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a
lesson to me:
A Lesson In Heart A lesson in "heart" is my little, 10 year old daughter, Sarah, who was born with a muscle missing in her foot and wears a brace all the time. She came home one beautiful spring day to tell me she had competed in "field day" - that's where they have lots of races and other competitive events. Because of her leg support, my mind raced as I tried to think of encouragement for my Sarah, things I could say to her about not letting this get her down - but before I could get a word out, she said, "Daddy, I won two of the races!" I couldn't believe it! And then Sarah said, "I had an advantage." Ah. I knew it. I thought she must have been given a head start...some kind of physical advantage. But again, before I could say anything, she said, "Daddy, I didn't get a head start... My advantage was I had to try harder!"
~"A Lesson In Heart" by Dr. Stanley Frager~
Shoes From God A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?" "I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boys reply. The lady took him by the hand and went into the store and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel. By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes. She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?" As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand, and looking up in her face, with tears his eyes, answered the question with these words: "Are you God's Wife?" ~Authors Unknown (Except where noted)~ |
by Joseph Walker
It has always struck me as more than just a little bit ironic that every year about this time America pays tribute to her working men and women by not working.
Not that I'm complaining. I appreciate a day off as much as the Thanksgiving we actually give thanks. On Christmas we celebrate a gift from God by giving gifts ourselves. On Easter we observe another divine gift by eating multi-colored eggs that were supposedly delivered by a rabbit.
OK, so the logic of Easter eludes me, too.
Still, it stands to reason that if we are going to celebrate America's workers, there ought to be something... you know... laborious about it. And no, I'm not talking about the effort it requires to pack a picnic lunch, or to go camping or boating or any of the pastimes we work so hard at enjoying during the long weekend. I'm talking about sweating. Toiling. Working.
You know -- laboring.
Mom and Dad understood the concept. Around our house, Labor Day was just that -- a day to labor. I don't remember any Labor Day picnics or parties or barbecues. We'd just had a full summer for that. Labor Day meant that school was back in session and it was time to work.
And so we did. We prepared the garden bed for winter. We pruned fruit trees. We bottled peaches and tomatoes until the inside of our house was thick with steam and aroma. Sometimes there were special projects that we didn't finish during the summer: painting the trim around the house; taking out an old, dead stump; planting new grass in that patch of dirt in the middle of the lawn that we used as home plate during spirited games of whiffle ball.
For me, however, the job was always the same: mowing, edging and raking the lawn. As the youngest of eight children, I always got the easiest -- and most boring -- duty.
"It's not fair!" I protested one Labor Day. "I do the lawn all summer. Why can't somebody else do it today?"
"Because everyone else already has a job," Mom said.
So much for labor negotiations.
A late summer trip had interrupted regularly scheduled lawn care that year, and our yard looked it. The grass was tall and thick -- especially the edges. I shuddered. Dad didn't believe in power mowers or edgers, so this would require hours of back-breaking, wrist-snapping, energy-sapping labor.
What a way to spend Labor Day, huh?
Don't ask me how, but I survived the ordeal. I was tired from pushing the mower up and down the slope of our front lawn. My fingers ached from squeezing Dad's rusty grass clippers. And I was itchy from the grass that seemed to cover me. But for some reason, as I sat out on the front porch looking out over the aesthetic results of my labors, none of that mattered. I was weary, but content. And I wasn't sure why until Mom came out with the lemonade.
"That's why we have you mow the lawn," she said as she handed me In retrospect, I'm sure other lawns in our neighborhood looked as good as ours. Maybe better. But that night I was King Lawnboy, and all was right in my carefully clipped kingdom.
I've never forgotten the feeling of satisfaction that came from a job well done. That's the feeling we ought to celebrate on Labor Day, for much of what we are as a nation we owe to the efforts of workers who are willing to work, and who take pride in the results of their labors.
So do something laborious this Labor Day, and savor the privilege and blessing of work.
'Tis the season, you know
-- Joseph Walker <valuespeak at msn.com>
|
There is a curve called
Failure,
But, if you
have a spare called Determination, ~Author Unknown~ |
Broken Eggs and Shattered Glass
. . . with my sincere thanks to those late night pranksters!
On a recent Saturday evening at around midnight, my wife and I were just about to turn out the
light and go to sleep when we heard the sounds of a group of people talking in the street, outside
our home. Then out of the blue came two loud thuds above our bedroom window, followed by the
noise of laughter and people running away down our street.
We both jumped out of bed, I turned on the external lights and rushed outside unsure of what had
caused the two thuds or what damage I could expect to see. The silence of the night was broken
by the distant sound of people laughing and at that moment I was of a mind to chase after them,
however, running bare-footed on the road in the dark is not a very wise thing to do.
I could hear dripping noises on the driveway and the flood light above our garage helped me to
identify just what had happened. Our home had been the victim of an egg bombing!
Being faced with the prospect of cleaning up this sticky mess in the early hours of the morning
was not a pleasing thought, on top of which I was less than impressed that we had been singled
out for this annoying prank. I decided that it was too late to clean up the mess, as it would
disturb our neighbours, so it could wait to the morning.
Early next morning with a bucket of warm water and scrubbing brush in hand, and with the
extension ladder placed on the front wall, I was now ready to wash off what was now two dry
yellowish, egg grit impregnated, 1 metre long patches above our front bedroom windows.
My task was made even more challenging by the two large canvas awnings which protect our
bedroom windows from the heat and glare of the afternoon sun. My annoyance with the late night
pranksters was again building to the level of the night before.
After retracting each of the awnings, something we rarely do except when there is are very high
winds, I then climbed the ladder to clean up the first patch of egg stain and then move the ladder
to clean the second patch.
As I climbed the ladder for the second time, I noticed that the glass in a small window just under
the roof line was very badly cracked. On closer inspection the crack ran around over half of the
outer edge of the window pane. As the awning protected the window, it was clear to me that the
damage had not been caused by the egg bombing. As I carefully placed my hand on the glass, I
discovered that the pane of glass was very loose and had the window been closed with any force,
it would have most likely shattered and the glass dropped to the drive way, some seven metres
below.
Just a few metres away, we have a basketball ring and on most days of the week there are up to
six young people who play in the immediate area, including both my sons. My thoughts
immediately turned to what could have happened if the broken glass in the window had gone
undetected for much longer and then suddenly shattered. The likelihood of my two sons and their
friends being seriously injured was extremely high.
After quickly washing the remaining egg stain off the front wall and with the help of Tom, my
youngest son, I got to work with some heavy duty masking tape and secured the cracked window
as best I could. Within 24 hours the cracked window had been replaced and all was back to
normal, except for the small bits of egg shell I kept finding on the front drive way and stuck to
our garage doors.
Over the next few days, I realised that had our home not been bombarded by those eggs late on
that Saturday night, I may not have discovered the broken window pane before it shattered and
came down all over our drive way.
Even though it had been an annoyance at time, the broken eggs and the stains were cleaned up
very quickly, however, the pain that could have been caused by the shattering of glass would
never gone away and would have haunted my wife and myself, forever and a day.
The cold shudder that ran down my spine when I first discovered the cracked window and the
thought about the consequences of someone being seriously injured or even killed, made me
realise just how very lucky we had been.
Frequently in life, the small things that happen to us may have a negative impact and cause some
form of pain, sadness, discomfort or personal aggravation. It is often said that we should not
'sweat the small stuff' and always look for the positive outcome or the silver lining in those dark
clouds of the current circumstance, even though at the time that is not always an easy thing to
do.
My personal experience with the egg bombing on that Saturday evening reminded me that in most
cases there is always a flip side to everything that happens to us and that often the flip side can
provide a positive outcome or an even greater benefit, if not now, then at some time in the
future.
From now on whenever I see or break an egg, I will think of the egg bombing incident and say a
thank you to those late night pranksters. Equally, I will always be reminded of Jean-Paul Sartre's
quote:
'What is important is not what happens to us, but how we respond to what happens to us'
Inspired by some late night pranksters and written by Keith Ready
Keith Ready © July 2005
Just recently I was invited to attend a function to celebrate the 25th anniversary of a business
owned by a very good and special friend.
I first met him when he started his business and have had the opportunity to provide my services
to his company over those twenty five years, and in between I have stayed in touch with him on a
regular basis.
The day of the celebration arrived, however, due to a business appointment running over time I
knew that I was going to late, so I phoned to let my good friend know. I arrived 20 minutes after
the function had started and my good friend came to the reception to welcome and greet me,
acknowledging that he was delighted to see me and had held off starting the official part of the
celebration, knowing that I was on my way. I am sure you would share the same feeling as I did at
that time, that there is nothing better for your spirits than to be welcomed and acknowledged in
such a way. As he had always done in all my dealing with him over those twenty five years, he
made me feel a very special and important person.
As I joined the other guests I could feel a wonderful sense of friendship, warmth and happiness in
the room, as they mingled and chatted away. Sadly, I had very little time to speak to more than a
couple of people before the official part of the celebration commenced.
In his speech, my good friend welcomed all the guests on behalf of his family and team members,
and then individually thanked the majority of the people who were gathered in the room for their
business support and friendship over the last twenty five years. This in itself is something you
rarely see or hear at events of this nature - normally what you do hear is all about what the
company has achieved over the years, followed by acknowledgements to a few key people and
then a blanket style thank you to everyone else who has attended.
During the course of his thank you speech, he referred to a quote which reflected his overall
approach towards both his business and personal life … 'Always dance with the person you took to
the dance'.
He then went on to talk about the importance of remaining loyal to those people who had
supported him from the beginning of his business and through all the highs and lows of the last
twenty five years. He also mentioned that during this time many people had offered their services
and even sometimes provided a very tempting and perhaps better business arrangement for his
business. However, he had no issue in saying 'thank you, but no thank you', as what was and still is
important to him, is to always remember what people have done and continue to do, and this is
always paramount in all of his business and personal considerations and decisions.
His warm and genuine acknowledgements were to those people who had offered more than just
their services, support and loyalty, it was about a deeper level of professional and personal
friendship which in the end, makes our lives all that more enjoyable and rewarding.
As I drove away that afternoon, I reflected on how lucky we are to have people in our lives that
stick by us through all the highs and lows and mostly importantly are good friends.
What a great honour it was for me to continue to go to the dance with such a good friend who
possesses such a unique and high level of integrity and personal values.
Inspired by Stephen Webster - Managing Director, Nature's Sunshine Products of Australia Pty Ltd and written
by Keith Ready
Keith Ready © May 2
PEACE
By,
Joseph J. Mazzella
A teenager gave me the peace sign the other day. I waved to him as I was walking past his home and he held up the two fingered salute made famous in the 1960's. I hadn’t realized that it had survived the last 40 years to find its way into the hearts of a new generation. The last time I saw it widely used was when I was a young boy. Seeing those two fingers did make me smile, though, because they reminded me of the two truths that can bring peace to us all. I only pray that one day we all can welcome them into our hearts, souls, minds, and lives.
The first of these simple truths is that God loves us. God loves us when we do good and He loves us even when we mess up. God loves us enough to forgive us, guide us, and help us through all the mistakes me make, choices we face, and difficulties we must overcome. God loves us from the second of our birth to our very last breath. His love is eternal like our souls not temporary like these bodies that carry them around. He loves us all through this life and His love carries us into the next.
The second truth I know that fills my life with peace is the fact that we all can choose and share love as well. We may not always be able to love each other as God loves us, but we can have the time of our lives trying. There is nothing that brings you more happiness, greater joy, and more peace of heart than sharing your love with everyone. Love is the hardest thing in the world to give away, though, because it keeps coming back to you as well. Loving others is what we are meant for. It is the Way of Life that Jesus showed us all. It is the only thing that matters.
The next time you feel troubled then hold up those two fingers and remind yourself of what can truly bring you peace. God loves you and is with you always. Take peace in His love and then go out and share your own love, joy, and peace with the world.
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Happy
by
Al Batt
“I just want to be happy.
I didn’t mean to overhear her cell phone conversation, but I would have had to have been deaf not to hear the young woman’s painful plea.
I am happy.
I hope you are happy, too.
That would make me happier.
I have found that an easy way to be happy is to be happy for others. Being happy is better than being king.
We often give negative things more weight than positive things, inflicting our unhappiness on others. When life gives us lemons, we shouldn’t squirt them in another’s eye.
The Declaration of Independence tells us that the pursuit of happiness is an inalienable right. Capturing happiness is an achievement.
John Locke wrote in the 17th century, “The business of man is to be happy in the world.”
Abraham Lincoln said that a man will be as happy as he chooses to be. I have heard it said, “Think happy, be happy.” If you believe you are happy, you will be.
In a world of large portions, we never get quite enough. Some of us don’t want anyone to have more. We want to be as happy as the happiest of people. What is enough?
My mother was big on “making do.” Being grateful for what we have is a good way to be happy. We made do and weren’t any worse for the wear.
People who live in big homes are no happier than those who live in small houses. Those who live in places known for their perfect weather are no happier than those of us who live in Minnesota—a place known for weather that is other than perfect.
My mother told me that I was put here to help others. I would ask her what the others were here for. It seemed to me that I was getting the raw end of the deal. Helping others does make us happy.
Brain researchers found that prefrontal cortices signify idea generation and lively thought. Happiness increases prefrontal cortical activity while sadness decreases it. Need a good idea? Be happy. Studying for a big test? Be happy.
A Harvard University researcher named Daniel Gilbert studied a lottery winner and a person who was paralyzed in an accident. A bend in the human heart cannot be seen, but Gilbert’s studies showed that one year after their life-changing events, the two were equally happy.
The University of Michigan and its World Values Surveys provided a ranking of 97 nations containing 90 percent of the world's population. The results indicated that Denmark is the happiest nation in the world and Zimbabwe the unhappiest. The United States ranked 16th on the list, behind Switzerland, Canada and Sweden, and immediately after New Zealand. This is embarrassing for the USA, the country that invented the smiley-face. During the past 26 years, the World Values Surveys have asked more than 350,000 people how happy they are, using the same two questions. “Taking all things together, would you say you are very happy, rather happy, not very happy, not at all happy?” And, “All things considered, how satisfied are you with your life as a whole these days?”
We have been told that money cannot buy happiness. Research has found that financial prosperity is a reason for happiness, but it is not the most important factor. Personal freedom, social tolerance and democratization are more important.
We’re doing OK. A worldwide study showed that respondents averaged 7 on the 0 to10 happiness scale, but we should be finding new ways to be happy.
There is happiness in simple pleasures. Happiness is a measure of that gap between expectations and reality. Move the clouds today. Try the mountains tomorrow. Happiness can be built upon little joys. My father’s idea of happiness was to get a good night’s sleep. Listening to the birds brings me happiness. I opened a door for a woman the other day. She smiled and thanked me. That brought me a great deal of happiness. My last dog found happiness in drinking from a toilet bowl. I don’t recommend that. Optimists are happier than pessimists. Any good pessimist could confirm that.
Have you ever apologized to someone? Of course, you have. Do you recall how difficult it was to say you were sorry, that you were wrong? It was excruciating. Do you remember how you felt afterward? You likely experienced happiness. An apology can bring happiness.
Bobby McFerrin sang, “Don’t worry, be happy.”
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, “There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy.”
Now get out there and be happy for no reason.
And put on your happy face.
You never know when you might be a part of a survey.
©Al Batt 2008
By Kristie Phillips
I lost my innocence on April 25, 2006, two days after my 34th birthday.
I woke up that morning with hope and more faith than I had ever had in my life. With a quiet confidence that I had prayed with my whole heart and God had heard me, and He would help my family and me in our time of need. But what did God actually do? Nothing. My Mom died that morning. She was 60 years old. I went to bed that night numb with shock, but with my eyes wide open.
Mom’s loss was sudden, complications from a surgery that had seemed to go well. She was released from the hospital four days after the surgery and was recovering on schedule. Then she started having pain, and before anyone, my dad, the surgeon, or even she herself realized how bad her condition was, she collapsed and never woke up again.
The surgeon told us he didn't know what happened. Usually if a patient has pain or complications, there is time to diagnose the problem and treat it, but my mom deteriorated so fast, there was no time. We finally concluded that God just took her. There was no other explanation.
The day I lost my Mom, I lost my faith as well. I never thought I would have an easy life with no problems, but I had firmly believed my entire life that God would hear my prayers and answer them. Growing up I heard so many stories about God miraculously making illnesses disappear, healing people against all odds, and answering impossible prayers, that I couldn't understand why He wouldn't do that for my family. I was terribly disappointed and angry with God. I refused to pray any more at all.
I never told anybody how much I hated God. I was afraid my Christian friends would argue with me and quote scriptures about how all things work together for good and how God will never fail us nor forsake us, and that's not what I needed to hear since I felt that God had failed me.
A few weeks before Mom's death, in early April before we even knew about her surgery, I had noticed an 8-week continuing education class on Grief and Loss, offered by the local community college. It was a new class and stood out among the computer, hobby, and self-improvement offerings. Although I felt drawn to the class, I did not register because I felt strange going when I had not experienced a loss myself. Little did I know that a few weeks later I would have plenty of experience.
I returned to work a week after Mom's funeral and signed up for the Grief and Loss class, still unsure of whether I should go. Somehow I showed up. I had nothing else to do. And in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if this was God providing for me after all. The instructor, Nancy Murphy, was patient's advocate who worked with the elderly in nursing homes and who had a desire to help people understand death and grief. She had lost two of her brothers as children, a third brother when she was sixteen, and her father a year-and-a-half before.
The three other students in the class included a large black man who had recently become a pastor; his wife, who had lost her grandmother, her mother, and her sister all to breast cancer; and a small 20-something former heroin addict, whose teenage sister had committed suicide when she was thirteen. They were not the kind of people I would normally associate with, but they understood the loss I was going through and I found the class to be very comforting.
Nancy was so kind to me and stayed late after every class to talk to me and see how I was doing. We would stand in the parking lot for half an hour after class talking. Nancy told me the class might be too early for me, too soon after my loss. Many adult children who lose their parents don't fully feel the impact of the loss for months, and they tend to join support groups months later instead of right away.
But, I think the class was exactly what I needed at the time. The class gave me direction, gave me people who understood what I was going through, and led me to some books to read that gave me a greater understanding of grief. Without the class, I would have been lost and unprepared to deal with what I was feeling.
The funny part is that a continuing education class would normally be canceled if it had less than six students. This had happened to me several times in the past. But somehow, this Grief and Loss class was allowed to run with just four students. I think it was because Nancy was so enthusiastic to teach it that the coordinator at the community college made an exception.
A year later, in August 2007, I saw Nancy Murphy again in a restaurant at lunchtime. She was as sweet and kind as she had been the year before. She told me that she had not taught the class again; she had gotten busy with work and in the future would try to target the class to healthcare workers. I tried to explain to her that the class was perfect timing for me and exactly what I needed. She said the class helped her as much as it had helped us.
How can you tell the difference between coincidence and God providing for you? I like to think that God provided that Grief and Loss class just for me. I would have been very apprehensive about going to a grief support group and probably would never have gotten the help I needed. But classes I'm not afraid of. I have a Ph.D. I've gone to lots of classes.Nancy Murphy said that she has to believe there is a purpose in loss. She has to. That's the only way she can make sense of it and have some peace. And I think she's right.
My faith is coming back slowly, little by little, but I know it will never be the same. I will never believe like I once did. I will never be as faithful, innocent, and naive as I was before. I will always remember how God disappointed me.I can only hope that God has a plan and a purpose for my life after all and my mom's death was a part of it. And when I doubt, I think about Nancy Murphy, her kindness, and her Grief and Loss class that only ran at the exact time I really needed it, and I wonder.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristie has been inspired by the stories on MyDailyInsights over a year and wanted to share her story in the hope of inspiring others. She is 35 years old and lives and works in Cary, NC as a Textile Chemist. She has been writing ever since high school and college, but has gotten distracted by the twists and turns of life, and only recently has been taking her writing more seriously. She can be reached at kristie225@gmail.com
It started last spring when my daughter signed on to the Internet.
She found it very interesting and kept asking me to try it. At age 50, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to learn what I would need to know. I kept declining.
Finally, after some encouragement and being reminded of how I had learned to use the computer, I conceded. I have to admit that it was very enjoyable and I found so many interesting things.
Then one day, I typed in the word "adoption" on a search engine. I couldn't believe all the stuff that came up. I became obsessed.
You see, I had a baby boy when I was a teen and I relinquished him to adoption, but I never stopped thinking about him and praying for his well being. I had been waiting since 1985 for my birth son to contact me. He turned 18 that year, and I, along with many other birth moms, was told during the time of relinquishment that when he became 18, he would be able to obtain information on me that would allow him to make contact.
That was wrong, but I didn't find out until last year. I thought that since my birth son had never contacted me, he was not interested in knowing who I was or in obtaining any identifying information. Most people who have never been connected to anyone that has been adopted or relinquished a baby have no idea what the majority of them deal with.
The birth mother is always wondering if her child had a good life, if he/she is safe, and the dreaded thoughts of whether he/she is dead. The adoptee, wondering why, wondering who they look like, what nationality they are, and what their medical history is. We are all denied the right to know any of that because of state laws.
By February 1999, I had been searching the Internet for 10 months, contacting the Court of Children and Youth Services and not receiving one shred of hope. I was told I had no rights and there was nothing I could do.
I was ready to give up.
I prayed and told God that I knew it was out of my control and if it were His will He would make it happen. I would wait on Him.
The following week, with God guiding me to read a post written on the Internet by a birth mom angel, I was given one last thing to do before I quit.
The post didn't have much in it, just that she had a baby girl at St. Vincent's in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and a social worker from CSS had reunited her with her daughter. Something inside me told me to write to this woman and ask her about her reunion with her daughter and how it came about. She wrote and told me to call a number in Philadelphia and ask a social worker if they could help.
Six weeks later, I met my son, Joseph, for the second time in 32 years.
I was the beneficiary of a miracle. I could write so much more about the details, but they are not of importance. What is important is the fact that we should never stop believing in miracles.
May you all be blessed with your own miracle, and if there is anyone out there thinking about a lost loved one, don't ever give up on faith, hope or love.
--Unknown
THE PRIVILEGE AND BLESSING OF WORK
It has always struck me as more than just a little bit ironic that every year about this time America pays tribute to her working men and women by not working.
Not that I'm complaining. I appreciate a day off as much as the next worker bee. It's just the logic that throws me. I mean, on Thanksgiving we actually give thanks. On Christmas we celebrate a gift from God by giving gifts ourselves. On Easter we observe another divine gift by eating multi-colored eggs that were supposedly delivered by a rabbit.
OK, so the logic of Easter eludes me, too.
Still, it stands to reason that if we are going to celebrate America's workers, there ought to be something . . . you know . . . laborious about it. And no, I'm not talking about the effort it requires to pack a picnic lunch, or to go camping or boating or any of the pastimes we work so hard at enjoying during the long weekend. I'm talking about sweating. Toiling. Working.
You know – laboring.
Mom and Dad understood the concept. Around our house, Labor Day was just that: a day to labor. I don't remember any Labor Day picnics or parties or barbecues. We'd just had a full summer for that. Labor Day meant that school was back in session and it was time to work.
And so we did. We prepared the garden bed for winter. We pruned fruit trees. We bottled peaches and tomatoes until the inside of our house was thick with steam and aroma. Sometimes there were special projects that we didn’t finish during the summer: painting the trim around the house; taking out an old, dead stump; planting new grass in that patch of dirt in the middle of the lawn that we used as home plate during spirited games of whiffle ball.
For me, however, the job was always the same: mowing, edging and raking the lawn. As the youngest of eight children, I always got the easiest -- and most boring -- duty.
"It's not fair!" I protested one Labor Day. "I do the lawn all summer. Why can't somebody else do it today?"
"Because everyone else already has a job," Mom said.
So much for labor negotiations.
A late summer trip had interrupted regularly scheduled lawn care that year, and our yard looked it. The grass was tall and thick -- especially the edges. I shuddered. Dad didn't believe in power mowers or edgers, so this would require hours of back-breaking, wrist-snapping, energy-sapping labor.
What a way to spend Labor Day, huh?
Don't ask me how, but I survived the ordeal. I was tired from pushing the mower up and down the slope of our front lawn. My fingers ached from squeezing Dad's rusty grass clippers. And I was itchy from the grass that seemed to cover me. But for some reason, as I sat out on the front porch looking out over the aesthetic results of my labors, none of that mattered. I was weary, but content. And I wasn't sure why until Mom came out with the lemonade.
"That's why we have you mow the lawn," she said as she handed me a tall, cool glass. "You do such a good job."
In retrospect, I'm sure other lawns in our neighborhood looked as good as ours. Maybe better. But that night I was King Lawnboy, and all was right in my carefully clipped kingdom.
I've never forgotten the feeling of satisfaction that came from a job well done. That's the feeling we ought to celebrate on Labor Day, for much of what we are as a nation we owe to the efforts of workers who are willing to work, and who take pride in the results of their labors. So do something laborious this Labor Day, and savor the privilege and blessing of work.
'Tis the season, you know.
'Oh, Kathy! I didn't even know you were in town, and you brought your doggie to visit me, too,' squealed Marvene. Her beautiful, beaming smile and upbeat attitude welcomed us into her room at Lakepoint Nursing Home.
Prior to my mother's death, the two had been nursing home roomies. Marvene watched over Mother like a guardian angel during that time. She was a great source of strength and comfort to me as my mother slowly drifted away, and remained a very special friend.
Hoping to surprise her, I had tiptoed in unannounced with Shiloh, my Miniature Schnauzer. Marvene's aged eyes danced with glee as she reached out to stroke Shiloh while charming her with sweet, puppy-dog talk. In her younger days of independence and good health a beloved pet had always warmed her heart and home.
Shiloh and I had slipped in the back entrance hoping not to cause too much commotion, and to avoid bustling hallways. I feared wheelchairs and such might make her skittish, but I certainly knew that 'seeing the people' would not be an issue.
Shiloh acquainted herself with Marvene, then the stuffed animal collection adorning her bed. 'Shiloh, down,' I commanded, taking a beautiful teddy bear from her mouth.
'It's alright, Shiloh. You aren't bothering a thing.' Marvene was cooing to her again.
'Oh, that's so cute - she just wants a toy, Kathy. Let her have it . . .'
'She has dozens of her own stuffed toys at home - don't let her fool you. Plus, she has no business on that priceless quilt made by your mother, Marvene.'
After a lap or two around the room and sniffing everything in sight, Shiloh settled in as if she had visited umpteen times. Then an unexpected onslaught of residents began filling the room. Word had spread like wildfire - there was a pooch on the premises!
Aides accompanied folks in wheelchairs, ambulatory residents shuffled in with walkers and canes; several oxygen machines and IV poles were rolled in to boot. Even a few staff members followed the slow-moving stampede, as they wondered about the unusual ruckus in the north wing. Shiloh relished being centre stage and greeted each new visitor with total delight. This rambunctious young dog was gentle unlike anything I had ever witnessed. She knew instinctively that her new friends were delicate and she must behave like a lady. I wondered why she couldn't behave like that at home!
The evening progressed into an all-out, impromptu party for this crowd of frail folks. I was thrilled to see Shiloh provide such joy at the end of another humdrum day in their lives. Each resident could hardly wait to get his or her hands on a 'real live critter!' They were alive with smiles and giggles. Nevertheless, eyes brimmed with tears when speaking of pets they had adored in days gone by. Knowing they were days never to be recaptured, my heart fluctuated between aching and enjoying the bliss of the moment for these ageing souls.
One tiny lady was obviously confused with a blank, distant look in her eyes. The aide at her side attempted to explain about a pet visiting, but she didn't seem to grasp one word. Then she spotted Shiloh! As if by magic, this bitsy, little gal was transformed before my very eyes. She became alert and began to recite tales of pets she had loved in her younger days. All the while she gently stroked Shiloh, stopping her stories only long enough to plant kisses right on top of Shiloh's head.
Yes, Shiloh sensed she was 'good medicine' for her new but fragile friends. Once the party ceased and the room emptied, she snuggled in my lap with her eyes fixed on the door. I know she was thinking, 'Doesn't anyone else need to see me? Hey, I can even do tricks for you!'
Without a doubt, she felt the love these kind strangers had for her. She felt it with each caress, each kiss, and the loving words they lavished upon her. The bond between humans and pets is an amazing and beautiful life force, and probably more beneficial than most pills in a bottle. And, it had been a two-way street - the oldsters were also good medicine for Shiloh. Canines are never happier than when pleasing humankind.
I gave Marvene a hug and peck on the cheek, Shiloh gave her a wet, sloppy kiss on the tip of her nose, and we said our goodbyes. Walking out, I felt a smile on my face and a spring in my step that hadn't been there earlier in the day. I began praising Shiloh for her excellent behaviour, and when I glanced down - she was prancing.
Written
by Kathleene S. Baker
First published as An Impromptu Party by MedHunters.com
Kathleene and husband, Jerry, reside in Plano, Texas. They share their home with two terribly spoiled schnauzers. A freelancer, she has contributed to newspapers, anthologies, magazines, online ezines, and writes a weekly column entitled 'Heart of Texas.' She is Editor for Starfish, a daily inspiration ezine. You can visit Kathy's website at . . . The Yellow Rose >>> or email her a note of appreciation for her wonderful story to . . . Lnstrlady@aol.com
Death
of a Tree
By
William R. Walker
Gnarl stood on the eastern edge of
the wide and grassy plain, ever aware and in
tune to all that took place within his broad
radius of sentience. For more than one
hundred years, he stood vigil, steadfast and in
the same position and would continue to do
so for another two centuries. No super
conscious effort was expended in the
accomplishment of this amazing task. None was
needed because, you see, Gnarl was a
live oak tree.
For almost thirty million years, since the prairie had risen from
the sea, his kind
had been in attendance, had witnessed, and
recorded in detail all that had occurred. After
observing an event that transpired within his
broad radius of sentience, it would be noted
by Gnarl, then stored in his vast memory, a
memory filled with every minute detail of the
event. Thus, the smallest and most intimate
details of an insignificant happening, such as
the swift leap of a voracious wolf spider upon
its prey, would not only be observed by
Gnarl, it would also be accurately recorded and
permanently stored for later retelling.
When the soft, warm breezes blew in from the nearby sea, his broad
green boughs
would bend and sway. His leaves would stir and
make a sound like a quiet whisper that
carried to the next live oak. And a whisper it
was, because on that gentle, wind-borne
sigh rode the details of all that Gnarl had
witnessed in his long sedentary life.
At the next mott, other live oak trees would feel then absorb
Gnarl's message
after which they would whisper it to their
neighbors at the numerous other motts that
dotted the broad prairie. Thus, the intimate
details of the hungry wolf spider's lethal leap
would not only be intimately known by Gnarl,
but by all the live oaks for many miles
around.
And so it was on a cool and blustery April day in 1836 - the day men
arrived on
the prairie. Gnarl knew of men. He knew from
personal experience and from countless
stories passed down by his ancient ancestors.
The stories told of naked and painted
savages who passed by on their way to fish in
the nearby bay. Sometimes the peaceful
nomads would stop to gather the large acorns
from his and other oak trees' branches or
dig the plumb mussels from the bed of the old
river that flowed and meandered its way
through the quiet prairie toward the bay. On
many occasions he had even witnessed them
stalking the many large buffalo herds that
would stop to graze the tall coastal grasses
before renewing their unending migration.
Now, once again, men had come to the prairie. Two separate groups
mounted and
in long columns, arrived a day apart and made
camp on either side of the prairie where
Gnarl maintained his unending vigilance.
The larger of the two groups was Mexican soldiers. They were
uniformly dressed
in bright reds, greens, and blues. Their woolen
tunics were crisscrossed with dazzling
white belts and festooned with brilliant medals
and loops of golden braid. Before long,
they had pitched their tents and spread their
kits under the drooping boughs of a groove
of Gnarl's live oak friends. To say that these
men exuded an aura of assured confidence
would be far from an adequate statement. Their
bold manner and relaxed attitude
informed Gnarl of the strong belief in their
mission and their superiority.
His keen perception told him that the other group of men was
different. They
were a mixed bag of ragtag Texian soldiers.
Here, he sensed and recorded no uniformity
of dress, no glittering medals or golden braid,
no pomp, no ceremony. Instead of
displaying the bold confidence and a secure
belief in the invincibility, like the men
camped across the prairie from them, their
hurried expressions and nervous manner
betrayed the quiet and haunting desperation
that surrounded them.
Gnarl sensed the terrible resolve and dedication to cause that both
groups felt
He sensed poorly concealed fear and trepidation
of each other, sensed it, but could not
begin to understand it, could not understand
why these men had come to this peaceful
prairie to kill one another.
The Mexican camp was barely set up before a small group of Texians,
mounted
and heavily armed, appeared outside their camp
perimeter and provoked them into
action. Loud gunfire, drowned out by the
occasional rolling boom of cannon shot, echoed
across the wide prairie as the two groups made
a half-hearted attempt to size one another
up.
Gnarl witnessed these terrible and reckless acts of desperate men in
desperate
times. He observed and recorded many acts of
bravery on both sides as the small
skirmish ran its short course then ended with
hardly a drop of blood spilt on either side.
That evening, when bright stars dotted the
darkening sky, both camps settled down to
a quiet, but tense night. Tomorrow, they knew
the final performance of this mortal drama
would be acted out.
Dawn arrived with a crisp coolness on the mist swept prairie. Gnarl
was aware of
the thick columns of smoke from dozens of
campfires as it rose above the treetops. He
watched it stop its slow ascent and form a
thin, undulating blanket of tarnished silver
over the apposing camps. He heard and recorded
the metallic clank of equipment and the
inpatient neighing of horses above the hushed
murmur of sleepy-eyed men as they
prepared for the coming battle. Before long,
both sides ready for the days terrible
business.
Serried ranks of anxious Mexican troops stood by, silent and
unmoving as they
waited for the expected Texian attack. The only
sound was the nervous snorting of their
cavalry horses and the muffled snaps and pops
of their battle flags as they unfurled and
waved in the chilled morning breeze.
One hour passed, then two, but no sound or movement came from the
Texas lines.
The Mexican commander, who also happened to be
the self-appointed president for life,
assumed with a logic that lacked any
imagination, that the Texians were frightened and
unwilling to face his numerically superior
force and so ordered his troops to stand down.
All morning and into the early afternoon no
sound came from the Texas camp.
Tiring of the waiting game, he finally gave the order for them to
eat and take a
much needed siesta. The Mexican commander
wasted no time in donning a pair of his
finest silk pajamas then settled himself on his
cot with confidence, knowing that several
thousand more of his troops were en route to
the prairie. When they arrived, he would
hesitate no longer in destroying these
foolhardy Texas rebels and asserting his rule over
this wild but fair land.
Gnarl observed this, missing nothing. He was surprised and somewhat
perplexed
by the total lack of activity from the two
large groups of men. While musing it over, a
gentle whisper reached him from across the
prairie. He immediately recognized the soft
feathery voice of Knot, an ancient live oak
that grew across the prairie near the Texian
camp. Knot spoke of hurried activity in that
camp, activity that announced an end to the
quietness of the afternoon.
Gnarl dutifully absorbed Knot's message then, in turn, whispered it
to the other
nearby live oaks. He and the other oaks stopped
their excited whispers and became
quiet as the tension increased. It was an
overpowering tension obvious to all, that is, all
but the sleeping Mexican camp.
The prairie suddenly came alive with the whispers of hundreds of
live oak trees.
The Texians were on the move! Gnarl extended
and stretched his senses to the limit in an
effort to detect the movement, only to have it
blocked by a low rise of ground between
him and the advancing men. He was about to turn
his attention back to the Mexican camp
when a strange sound reached him, a strange,
but at the same time familiar sound. It
reminded him of the sweet melodies that the
birds sang from the many nests he had
supported through the years.
Suddenly, a flag appeared above the low rise. It had a white
background overlaid
by a bare breasted woman wielding a long,
banner draped sword. As he watched, the long
staff it was attached to popped into view, then
the callused and dirt encrusted human
hands that held it. Seconds later, several
heads beneath furry animal skins and floppy brimmed hats popped into view, then
more and more.
Before long, hundreds of wide-eyed and panting Texians appeared in a
long
line abreast. It surprised Gnarl when he
discovered that the sweet melody came from
three men blowing wind instruments in the
middle of their undisciplined ranks. In all
the countless stories whispered across the
prairie in more than a century of life, not
one of them gave the slightest hint that
creatures such as these could produce such a
pleasant sound. Next to appear was a tall,
broad-chested man sitting astride a snow-white
horse. Gnarl observed and recorded it all as
the man rode up and down the uneven line,
shouting loud, patriotic words of encouragement
and vulgar invectives at his men.
Gnarl directed part of his attention toward the still sleeping
Mexican camp, a
camp completely unaware of the deadly peril
that approached. Their sentries, although
standing, leaned on their muskets half asleep,
oblivious to the fast approaching danger.
Suddenly, loud Spanish shouts of "Los diablos Tejanos - the Taxas
devils,"
echoed across the prairie. The warning came too
late. In an instant, the Texians fell upon
the Mexicans like a pack of slobbering mad
dogs. The air immediately resounded with
the flat crack of musket fire and blood
curdling screams of "Remember the Alamo!
Remember Goliad!" Seconds later, the Mexicans
added their own screams to the
unnatural din, but theirs were different,
theirs were the terrible dying screams of pain and
terror.
Gnarl's senses were stretched to the limit, as he worked overtime in
a valiant
effort to absorb all that was happening. Never
in his long life had there been so much
information to perceive, to feel, and to
record. He felt the thin layer of life sustaining
cambium under his thick outer bark swell and
expand with the overpowering flood
of raw data as he distributed these strange new
impressions throughout his vast network
of memory cells.
Gnarl absorbed every nuance of pain and terror the Mexicans
experienced. He
absorbed every detail of the insane killing
rage that held the attacking Texians in an iron
grip as they waded through a terrified and
confused enemy that was more than twice
their number. Before long, the sharp report of
musket fire dwindled to an occasional pop
as the Texians switched to clubbing and
stabbing, not taking the time to reload their
single-shot weapons.
Eighteen short minutes later, the fighting ended. Around Gnarls
trunk, blood from
almost one thousand slain Mexican soldiers was
trampled and churned into the red and
sticky morass. He was quick to note that among
the many mounds of dead, lay the
twisted and broken bodies of only two Texians.
Mounted Texians, driving dozens of frightened prisoners before them,
then began
to arrive in small groups. gnarl sensed the
Mexicans' fear as they were corralled nearby.
Next, the victorious Texians began stacking
captured ordinance under his drooping
branches. There were countless kegs of black
powder, wooden crates of primer, and
explosive canister rounds for the cannon. As
perceptive as Gnarl was, he did not sense
the danger of having so much destructive
material near at hand.
Later, as the blood red sun dipped below the distant horizon, the
victorious Texas
commander interviewed the captured Mexican
dictator. It was at that moment that a
large campfire built near Gnarl ignited a
corner of the canvas that covered the ordinance.
Within seconds, the leaping and crackling
flames reached his lower boughs, setting them
ablaze. Gnarl felt no pain as the flames
climbed higher and higher, consuming branch
after branch of his evergreen leaves. Although
there was no pain, he did experience a
sense of loss because when he tried to whisper
this new and unusual experience to the
other oak trees, the message came out all
garbled and unintelligible. Seconds later, his
entire frame, from top to bottom, was ablaze.
The crackling and popping flames quickly consumed every leaf on
Gnarls broad
and mighty frame then died out. Only in a few
places did the fire still flicker and burn,
usually where a dead branch or gray streamer of
Spanish moss had hung on through
the winter. The damage was serious, but not
fatal. Gnarl knew it would take the entire
spring and summer to partially regenerate his
foliage; his growth ring for this year would
indeed be a thin one.
What Gnarl really missed, even after only a few brief moments, was
the ability
to communicate these strange new sensations and
impressions to his fellow live oaks.
Without a thick coat of leaves, he had no way
of impregnating the warm gulf breeze with
his whispered tales. He gave his loss a brief
thought then dismissed it. After all, he could
still perceive and record his impressions for
later telling, and he could listen to the other
live oak trees tell their tales. With his usual
sense of duty, he resumed his job of gathering
and storing information.
A large keg of gunpowder suddenly exploded with a blinding flash and
a
tremendous roar. The violent concussion shook
Gnarl from the ends of his highest
branches to the tips of his deepest roots. Bits
of burning canvas and other debris rained
down on the remaining ordinance causing more
explosions. In seconds, Gnarl had lost
almost every branch on his once majestic frame.
Jagged and splintering chunks of bark
and memory-rich heartwood flew from his mighty
trunk as the destruction continued to
tear him apart.
Still, Gnarl felt no pain, only a deep sense of regret at not being
able to relay
these final dying impressions to the other live
oaks. With a deep inner sigh, his sentience
flickered on and off several times, then slowly
faded into a black nothingness.
The nearby live oaks instantly sensed the loss of one of their own
and began a
sad wail. It was a soft and mournful wail,
whispered to a wind that carried the tale
of Gnarl's life and death. Their leaves
whispered his story for any that cared to
listen. They spoke of the small, insignificant
acorn that took root in the dark, fertile
loam of the prairie and grew into a beautiful
live oak tree. They spoke of his dedication
and his attentiveness on the most exciting day
that had ever dawned on the prairie.
They spoke of the heroic death of a great tree.
On cool, moonlit April nights, when the traffic on the nearby ship
channel
is quiet, you can sit under the spreading
boughs of the live oaks on the old battlefield
and listen. If you are gifted and possess the
proper sensitivity you will feel their
consciousness. Its sentience will surround and
embrace you with folds of ancient
knowledge. And if you have a keen sense of
hearing, you will hear their soft
whispers when the gentle gulf breeze stir their
dense foliage - soft, mournful
whispers that tell you the story of Gnarl, of
how he once lived and died.
William R. Walker
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Keep on waving
BACK FROM DESPAIR
by Lynn Perrier
A year ago I went through one of the most difficult times in my life.
I had lost my family and my business all within a month. The
heartache was numbing.
I decided to go to Mexico and see if I could renew my
perspective and outlook on life. To say I arrived in Mexico with a
heavy heart is an understatement. I booked a hotel on the Baja
choosing one of the less populated areas for tourists.
It was in late February which also happens to be when the grey
whales swim down to have their babies.
I decided that I may as well do something other than sit in the
sun and feel sorry for myself so I booked a day trip to see the
whales.
I was not prepared for what happened.
On arrival at the marina, we were chaperoned into little motor
boats. I have seen pictures of people out whale watching and at
least they had boats larger than the whales. Not here. Each boat
seated 6 people and off we went in search of whales.
We soon saw a couple of water spouts which our guide said were
whales. The captain of our boat took off in that direction. Soon
there were a number of grey whales swimming close enough to get a
look and some pictures.
Our guide alerted us to a huge spot moving closer to the boat.
We were a little apprehensive because these whales were at least
twice as long as our boat.
To my utter amazement, all of a sudden one surfaced right in
front of my face. It had swum under the boat and came up on my side.
I thought I was imagining that it took a very good look at me.
Well, let me tell you that was some sight. Everyone was trying
to take pictures of her under the water before she swam away. Within
a few minutes she was back. Once again surfacing right beside me.
Once again, she looked me right in the eye.
The next time I was ready for her. She surfaced in front of my
eyes and I reached out to touch her. She stayed on top of the water
long enough for me to rub her beautiful barnacle covered, scarred
head and snout. She did that twice. Incredible.
Everyone was busy taking pictures while I got soaked. I didn't
care. It was a miraculous feeling. She swam away and the captain
steered the boat toward other whales we could see in the distance.
Then the guide yelled again that two were coming close to the boat.
There was my new found friend with her baby. It was
unbelievable to see how she nudged her baby toward our boat. She was
bringing her baby to meet me!
Before long, I was within 5 feet of the most beautiful baby
whale you can imagine. The mother swam just on the other side of her
and after I had long enough to absorb what I was seeing, she guided
her baby away from the boat and out into the waters.
That was the last we saw of her.
On the bus trip back everyone was cheerfully talking about the
experience and my "bonding." The guide told us that in 18 years of
conducting tours to see whales, only once before had they witnessed a
whale allowing someone to touch them.
Why did this happen?
I have no explanation why she chose me for the privilege. Maybe
the mother whale sensed my sadness. It was a humbling experience.
She helped me to see the light even though I was in a very dark
place. To describe it as a religious experience is the best I can
do. It brings tears to my eyes when I remember the day I came back
from the pit of desperation and bonded with that whale.
I appreciated the obstacles that mother whale had to overcome on
her long journey to the place she would have her baby. That magical
encounter paved the way for me to put life back into perspective and
I came home a much wiser person.
That huge beautiful creature made me understand, that despite
the obstacles life puts in your way, there is always an opportunity
for a new beginning.
You must never give up.
-- Lynn Perrier <petpntr at yahoo.com>
____________________________________________
Lynn is a Canadian writer whose life has lead her down many paths
opening her mind and heart to the important things in life. With an
often humorous slant, her writing will leave you with food for
thought and a smile on your face especially the articles about her
cats. For those of you who have lost a pet Lynn extends a welcome to
visit her newly launched memorial site and explore having your own
free memorial webpage here: http://www.tributememorial.net
By Duane Spears
Some years ago I attended a self-improvement seminar and the speaker was Jim Rohn. He said, "Everything matters in life, some things a little and some things a lot, we just don't know which is which." And I believed him.
Now if I may, I would like to relate a personal experience which occurred when I was a motorcycle officer that strengthened this belief and taught a young man that everything in life does indeed matter.
I was a motorcycle officer with the Los Angeles Police Department and I was working speed complaints out of West Traffic Division. On the 6th of January, 1986, I was working a speed complaint on one of the streets in the hills of Bel Air. It was around 9:30 in the morning. I was stopped at the base of a hill and had set up my radar on the handlebar of my motorcycle and was watching the traffic coming down the hill.
This was a residential area and the road was narrow with numerous curves and was posted at 25 miles per hour. I had just finished writing a couple of tickets when I heard the audio on the radar, looked up the road and saw a small sports car coming down the hill. I glanced at the digital readout on the radar unit and saw that the car was traveling close to 50 miles per hour. I stepped out into the street and waved the driver over to the curb.
The driver was a young man in his early 20's on his way to UCLA for a morning class. I told him why I had stopped him and started to write him a ticket. He, of course, didn't want the ticket and tried to talk me out of it. His name was Christopher and he was a good kid. But he was trying his best to get me to not write him a ticket. Never rude, always polite, but determined to convince me to let him go.
We bantered back and forth, he would raise his voice in support of his position, but I calmly explained why he should get the ticket. When he saw I was still going to write him the ticket, he asked me, "What If I had not stopped, you were not on your motorcycle, would you have chased me?" I replied, "Most likely not".
About this time, I heard the audio on the radar and noticed that the digital readout registered 52 miles per hour. I looked up and saw a young man coming down the hill on a motorcycle. I stepped out in front of him and waved him into the curb. He was going too fast and passed us, but he was slowing down. I walked towards the motorcycle rider and my back was to Christopher.
The motorcyclist had turned around and was coming back to me. The he suddenly made a quick U-turn and sped down the hill. I turned around and walked back to Christopher and said, "Well, one got away."
He said, "I waved him on".
I said, "What?"
He said, "I waved him on."
I replied, "Oh, no! You should not have done that."
He had a puzzled look on his face and asked, "Why not, it won't matter?"
I told him everything in life matters, some things a little and some things a lot. We just don't know which is which. The look on Christopher's face clearly indicated to me that he did not believe me. I finished the ticket and we talked a little more about life and philosophy, then Christopher went to class and I went to court.
Three days later, I was back working that same area and had three cars stopped. While I was writing the tickets, I noticed that a car coming up the hill had stopped across from me. There were three or four guys in the car. It was obvious to me that they were waiting to talk to me.
I finished the last ticket and the driver of the car got out and walked over to me. He had a very sad look about him. I could tell something was bothering him. As he approached me, he asked, "Do you remember me?"
"Yes," I replied, "you are Christopher."
He then said, "You taught me a valuable lesson the other day when you told me that everything in life matters. I didn't believe you then, but now I do."
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Do you remember the boy on the motorcycle?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, "I do remember him."
"Well," he said, "he was my roommate and that is why I waved him on. I thought I was helping him. After he turned around he made a wrong turn and went down a street, which ended in a cul-de-sac and hit a large planter in the center of the cul-de-sac. He died instantly. You were right when you said everything in life matters."
I was shocked and found it hard to believe, even though I had been with LAPD for 18 ½ years. We talked for a few more minutes. I expressed my sorrow, we shook hands and then we both left.
I rode to the station in Venice and looked up the traffic reports for the 6th of January and sure enough there it was. I still could not believe it. I mentioned what had happened to another officer whose was in the station at the time. His response was that the kid deserved to die for fleeing the scene; I thought this cannot be happening; I don't want to be like him.
As police officers and especially motor officers we are suppose to be saving lives, not pleased because some kid made a bad decision and died. Over the next several days I gave a lot of thought to this situation and my life in general. I decided I didn't want to be a police officer anymore and I needed a change. So I resigned in February 1986 after 18 ½ years with LAPD to pursue my passion, network marketing.
I thought that I should listen to my own advice about how everything matters and look at this situation as an opportunity to make some serious changes in my life. I've never regretted leaving LAPD even though my business plans didn't quite work the way I had hoped back in 1986. But over the years they have and I have had a successful network marketing business since 1995.
Could now be the time for you to make a life change? If it is, I would encourage you to do so. Based on my experience you will not be sorry. I will be 65 in September 2008, I'm in great health and could not be happier.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Duane Spears is an MDI subscribers and was born and raised in Osawatomie, Kansas. He graduated from high school in 1961 and joined the US Army. After 3 years with the Army, he went to Los Angeles in 1966 and joined the Los Angeles Police Department. Duane quit LAPD after 18½ years to work a network marketing business. That company went bankrupt after 6 months. Duane then learned the mortgage business opened his own office on Hollywood Beach in Oxnard, CA in 1989. Later in 1995 he joined another network marketing company, left the mortgage business and has been with them for the past 13 years. In 2000, Duane moved back to Osawatomie to be near his son. You can reach Duane at duane@duanespears.com
Your Mansion
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com
Someone sent me the story, and pictures of a big shots mansion. I in
turn sent the pictures and story to many others. I have been getting
notes back on the deal. Some of the notes, well all of the notes
range in what can be called shock that any one could have need of such, while
millions of others are in need of food, right down the road.
One of the Dollies called it greed, and she just couldn't understand how
anyone could live like that knowing there are people in need. But she
went on to say we have that thing called greed and on the same order
right here in the states.
I told her that some day she will stand before God. and knowing her, I
am sure she will have Jesus for her defense attorney. Jesus will say
something like this. Yes Father, this girl is one of mine,
she was not perfect, but Father I have this to say. She saw others
that had a need of a cup of water, and she tried to get those in need
some water. The water in this case, might be a hand out, or a hand
up, some kind words. But she saw a need, and if she could help
someone, she tried. Father, she met a poor man, who was a veteran of a war. A
man effected by what he had seen, and had fell through the
cracks. She tried her best to help him. She got clothes and shoes
for him, she seen that he got some food once in a while. She tried to
recover him to a better life.
That was not the only case in her defense, there are others, and
she tried to help. Remember Father it is written, in your Book of
Books, the Bible. Many help those in time of need.
I then remembered the words written in Luke, chapter 16, from verse
19 for a ways. The rich man, and the beggar. The rich man had all
the fine things of life while on this earth for a season. The beggar
had very little if any thing for a season while on this earth. He
asked for the crumbs of food from the rich mans table, and received
none. Both died, and went to the life in the other world. The
beggar was now enjoying a better life in a mansion in Heaven, while the rich man
was in the slum hole, pits of hell. The roles had now
turned. The beggar was living, while the rich man was in the role
of being a beggar. He was begging for just a drop of water.
Life on this earth is but a season, it will end some day. The rich,
the greedy may have it all on this earth, and see not those that are in
great need of the crumbs of life. But there will come the day, when
the rich and greedy will too stand before God. Will they have Jesus
for a defense attorney?
One can gain all the gold, the silver, the money, all the fine living in
this world, but it will be for only a season. it will soon pass
away, and none of it travels to the here after world with the soul to
stand before God.
Yes I know of the Dollie group, and there is some of the fellows I
know, that are of the type, that sees the needs of others, and the
little animals that belong to God, and tried to do something about the
problems. Those will have Jesus for their defense attorney, and
Jesus don't lose any cases before God.
Your mansion on this earth, may be an shack, or may even be sleeping in a card
board box under a bridge some where. But it is only for a
season, just like the rich may have a fine mansion, and the best of
foods, and so on. Some day, some will live in the Mansion on the
Hilltop. The mansion here will fade away, same as all the gold, the
silver, and the money.
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5
If you never felt pain,
then how would know that I’m a Healer.
If you never went through difficulties,
how would you know that I’m a Deliverer?
If you never had a trial,
how could you call yourself an over comer?
If you never had sadness,
how would you know that I’m a Comforter?
If you never make a mistake,
how would you know that I’m a Forgiver?
If you knew all,
how would you know that I will answer your questions?
If you were never in trouble,
how would you know that I will come to your rescue?
If you were never broken,
then how would you know that I can make you whole?
If you never had a problem,
how would you know that I can solve them?
If you never had any suffering,
how would you know what Jesus went through?
If you never went through the fire, how would you become pure?
If I gave you all things, how would you appreciate them?
If I never correct you,
how would you know I love you?
If you had all the power,
how would you learn to depend on Me?
If your life were perfect,
what would you need Me to do?
~Author Unknown~
Sharon Bryant
I don't know if any of you got to see Larry King last night. He had kids on that can "see" spirits.
I could relate to everything they said. My "seeing" began at an early age. I understood how we can see those on the other side in transparent form, or partially transparent or fully formed, solid, as I call it, like you and I are.
But a man on the show made some statements that irritated me. He said kids who
CLAIM to see spirits, are only using their imagination and are being creative.
Had there been a number to call and make a statement to this man, I would have
called. For he is WRONG.
The parents of these kids knew their kids were "seeing" people. They knew the people could speak to them. I've had it happen many times in my lifetime. And it still happens to this day.
John Edwards was on the show and another psychic. They knew the kids were telling the truth. But the one man did not believe.
I can't begin to count the times in my lifetime I've been asked why I can see and many can't. I don't have the answer to that question. I only know my grandmother was like this, and I learned at a young age to accept what was being "sent" to me, and to pay attention to what I saw and heard. I still do that today.
My own daughter who used to talk to what I thought was an imaginary friend stunned me one day when I was listening from the hallway to what she was saying to whoever she was seeing. When she began to tell me a little boy visited her, and that he was sitting in the little red rocker in the bedroom, I wondered. Could it be...........?
Then she told me the little boy bought the carpet in the room, and it used to be his room. She said the red chair was his. I'll never forget that day, because the room was her brother's room, before she was ever born. And he did pick out the color of the carpet in the room. The red chair was a gift to him from my parents one Christmas. I knew then she was being visited by my son who died at age 5 and a half, two years before she was born.
I believe parents and grandparents should pay attention when a child tells them of someone visiting them. Some parents think it's a dream. Children try and explain it is not a dream, but many parents doubt what they are saying. I'm glad my parents and grandparents listened to me. I was taught never to fear this gift of "sight." I have never feared a visit from anyone who appears to me. My grandmother used to tell me, "Never fear the dead, it's only the living that will harm you."
Oddly, and though this could mean something or it could have been just an incident.........when my sister-in-law died in 2001, she always told me, "When you hear the song Eldorado, I am near you."
I cannot explain why we see good people suffer and die. I can't explain why there are creeps out there who harm others, or have no value on human life. I can only tell of what I see, hear, and know from my own personal experiences.
I have some treasures in heaven. A son I love dearly, parents I love dearly, grandparents, a brother, aunts and uncles and friends who have gone on before me. I know also that our pets wait for us. I have seen mine. I know heaven exists. I know God is real and among us.
Sharon Bryant
God's Time, Man's Time
Bill Walker
missourisage@yahoo.com
You know there is a great difference in God's time, and man's
time. I, some times and that is most of the time, can't figure
either one out. I know people are always praying and asking God to do
something. It, as a rule, may happen soon, or it may be a while,
just don't get into a hissie if it takes a little while. Remember
God's timetable don't run on man's time table.
Now awhile back, about 2 years or so I noticed I had a dead tree. My
place looks like a forest anyways,, and some times I am slow about
taking note something is happening to one. This was at the south west
corner of the house. A tree of ever green type, it was no longer
ever green, but dead. The thing had been here for years, and was
quite tall, more then a hatchet job of getting down.
About 6 months back a fellow came by, and asked if he could have
said tree. Well sure, you can I told him. He said he wanted it for
a house he was putting together. Well take the thing, being how he
was going to take it off my hands, at no work or cost to me. He never
came back. Tree just stood there, making me start to worry about
things.
About a week ago I noticed the thing was still there, and I had heard
of a wood chopper fellow. I went to see him, I was told that he
chopped trees for fire wood. He told me no way did he want such a
tree, but he told me of another fellow that would chop for free..
Right up my alley, I like free stuff you know.
Well I found this fellow yesterday. I had been by his house a
couple times, and the only ones that answered the door was the dogs, and
cats. The dogs informed me that they wasn't wanting anyone like
me. But here at last I find this fellow. He said he would be by
this morning and give me a price on taking the thing down. I was
thinking more on the free deal. Well this morning I am waiting,
and I noticed he came by in his truck, and kept right on moving. I
though maybe he had parked in front of the house, so Little Girl, and
I walked around to the front. We had been setting on the back
porch. I got around in front, and something is missing. The truck
never stopped, maybe the guy didn't see the dead tree. Well the
dead tree, that thing is gone, so guess there was no dead tree for
him to see.
I guess the dead tree got removed in God's time, maybe in the tree
choppers time also. I know that thing was there a week ago, when
it got taken down, sure beats me. I know I was away from the
house for a couple hours, one or two times in the past week.. Thank
God, it is history. And also thank God, I got it done for free.
God is good. It would have been a job for me that is sure. I
looked at the stump, he got it close to the ground. That sucker
was big, almost 2 foot cross.
Yes there is God's time, I guess there is man's time. I know I
had been talking to God a couple times about sure need that tree down
before something bad might happen. Maybe God told the man to get
it down, do you think maybe that might be the case?
Tinker and Poo; The Boys Write
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?&isbn=0-595-35741-5
There is a difference between being an acquaintance and being a friend. An acquaintance is someone whose name you know, who you see every now and then, who you probably have something in common with and who you feel comfortable around.
It's a person that you can invite to your home and share things with. But they are people who you don't share your life with, whose actions sometimes you don't understand because you don't know enough about them.
On the other hand, a friend is someone you love. Not that you are 'in love' with them, but you care about them and you think about them when they are not there. The people you are reminded of when you see something they might like, and you know this because you know them so well. They are the people whose pictures you have and whose faces are in your mind and heart regardless.
Friends are the people you feel safe around because you know they care about you. They call just to see how you are doing, because a friend doesn't need an excuse. They tell you the truth, the first time, and you do the same. You know that if you have a problem, they are there to listen.
Friends are the people who won't laugh at you or hurt you, and if they do hurt you they try hard to make it up to you. They are the people you love, regardless of whether you realize it.
Friends are the people you cried with when you got rejected from something you really wanted in life and during the last song at a farewell or funeral. They are the people that when you hug them, you don't think about how long to hug and who's going to be the first one to let go.
Maybe they are the people that hold the rings at your wedding, or maybe they are the people who give you away at your wedding, or maybe they are the people you marry. Maybe they are the people who cry at your wedding because they are happy or because they are proud.
They are the people who stop you from making mistakes and help you when you do. They are the people whose hand you can hold, or you can hug or give them a kiss and not have it be awkward because they understand the things you do and they love you for them.
They stick with you and stand by you. They watch you live and you watch them live and you learn from them. Your life is not the same without them.
Author Unknown
The Foibles of Facial
Folliclization
By
Joseph Walker
Last night my 16-year-old son, Jon, came downstairs to say good-night. When he gave me a hug, I smelled something I had never smelled before – at least, not on him. And I’ve got to tell you, it made my blood run cold as I flashed back to my own history and considered the possible traumatic implications for my son.
“What’s that smell?” I asked as I held him close.
"You know what it is,” he said, squirming to get away.
“I think I know,” I said. “But I want you to tell me.”
He laughed as he pulled away from me. He’s doing that a lot these days: laughing at me as I try to control him physically the way I used to. He’s almost as tall as I am now, and – don’t tell him this, OK? – probably stronger. I still have weight on my side – and my front and back, too, come to think of it – so I can probably still handle him. But it isn’t easy, and he knows that.
“It’s after-shave,” he said, trying to cover his blushing with a last little shove.
“No way!” I exclaimed. “And why did you put on after-shave? Is ‘Hannah Montana’ on or something?”
“No,” he said. “And I don’t put on after-shave to watch ‘Hannah Montana.’”
Good thing. He had put on enough of the stuff that it probably would have made poor little Hannah’s eyes water – even all the way out there in California.
“So . . . that means . . . you shaved?”
Now he was really blushing, so of course he had to jump on me. Long arms and legs flailed in the living room as we performed the curious male “I’m embarrassed so I’m going to physically attack you” ritual. Eventually we collapsed, as much from the stingingly pungent aroma in the air as from the exertion of father-son bonding.
“So how long have you been shaving?” I asked.
“Oh, since our choir tour in April,” he said.
“You’ve been shaving for two months and I didn’t know it?” I asked.
“Well, actually, this is the first time since then,” he admitted.
I understood. I don’t think I actually shaved until I was a high school senior. The joke among my friends was that I shaved every two months whether I needed it or not.
Mostly not.
This was the early 70s, the era of long, bushy sideburns and Fu Manchu moustaches. I had friends who could grow full beards, for Pete’s sake, and I was still carefully and meticulously combing my hair down onto my face in a pathetic attempt to make it look like sideburns.
Which, by the way, it didn’t.
Still, I tried. I did the teenage version of the comb-over and I splashed on Hai Karate and I even nicked my face intentionally a couple of times just so I could say, “Oh man, I cut myself shaving this morning” – just like the beardy guys.
Yeah, I know – it seems sort of silly today, when I’d gladly trade my ability to grow sideburns for the secret formula for NOT growing hair on my ears, in my nose and on my back. But I remember what a big deal it was to me then, when it felt like I was being judged for something over which I had absolutely no control. And I assumed Jon was feeling a little of that same pubescent helplessness. So I asked him: “Do you want me to show you how to shave?”
“Nah,” he said. “My friend Cody showed me. He’s been shaving since 5th grade.”
“And you’re OK with that?” I asked. “I mean, the fact that he shaves a lot and you . . . you know . . . don’t?”
“Oh sure,” Jon said casually, without a trace of trauma or adolescent angst. “The way I see it, he shaves every day so he can have a nice, smooth face – like mine!”
And just like that my concern melted away. Jon obviously has a better handle on the foibles of facial folliclization than I had 37 years ago. Indeed, that seems to be generally true of him and the rest of his generation. Not only are they light years ahead of us technologically – no shock there – but they also seem to innately understand stuff about life that we didn’t understand.
There are probably a lot of reasons for that – some of them not altogether pleasant. But it fills my heart with hope to think that as a species we’re actually learning something from one generation to the next.
No matter how the next generation occasionally smells.
# # #
Joseph Walker
|
She came tonight as I sat alone..
Have you forgotten the many plans
Where is the mansion of stately height
And as she spoke, I was very sad
So gently rising, I took her hand
And I told her that these are my only gems,
And my mansion of stately height is love,
And as I spoke to my shadowy guest, ~by Rowena K. Lewis~ |
T. J's. STORY
By,
Wendy LaFond
This is my testimony on the power of prayer to heal and to help.
Any time that my faith starts to dim, or I begin to wonder if God is listening to me, all I have to do is remember that warm spring day back in June, 1984. It reminds me of the power of prayer - of God's love for us. And how he will use us to work in lives we may not even know.
We lived in northern Wisconsin. Our friend George had come up from Indianapolis to visit. It was the day he had to return to go back to work. My kids’ dad was taking him to the bus station. We had a 1972 Chevy Impala 4-door sedan back then.
We had made a play area for the kids in the side yard. We had three children. Stef was almost 4, Roger was 2, and T.J. was 15 months old. They had a slide, swing set, sand box, merry-go-round, and a couple park style bouncy toys. It was like having their own little park at home. But, we had not gotten the fence up yet. We also had a little dog. His name was Scruples. The four of them were playing in their park as we were helping George get his things together to go home.
My cousin Dan was staying with us at the time. And our friend Ron had stopped by to bid George farewell. Our house was situated in that gray area, on the edge of town, on the edge of the country. We still had a country driveway. Long and dirt, with a y-shaped turn around just past the house. For some reason, Tom, my kids’ dad, never liked to use the turn around. He preferred to back out of the driveway. This would prove to be the day that changed that.
Tom and George were in the car, and everyone said their goodbyes. I had just checked on the kids. Stef and Roger were in the sand box, T.J. was by the slide. I was getting ready to go help T.J. so he didn't fall. As Tom started to back up, I got his attention. We needed bread for supper, so I asked if he would he pick some up on his way home. He started to leave again and we all heard the sickening thump.
"Oh, no", I thought, as I rushed to get around the car. I thought my three small children had just witnessed their little dog being run over. When I came around the back of that car, I wished it had been the dog. My little boy lay trapped under the rear wheel of the car.
At first, I was just sure he was dead. But instead of the panic that I expected, I felt a calm that I knew could only be from the Lord. The tire was pinning him to the ground. He was only 15 months old and very small for his age. His skin was being forced into the tread of the tire, his shorts and diaper had blown out from the pressure and there was cotton scattered around. I beat on the back, side window of the car. "It's T.J.! It's T.J.! You have to back up off of him!" Instead of applying the brakes and slowly easing off, Tom applied the gas and then shifted into reverse. This spun the tire, and T.J., almost running over him with the front tire.
But, my baby was free. Then came another wave of calm. I knew I could pick him up and we had to get him to the hospital. The guys were 'basket-cases', absolutely no help. The Lord gave me the strength to take control before I had the awareness that I needed to ask for it.
When I bent to pick him up, I could see the swelling in his face. His eyes were swollen shut and he looked like he had purple freckles. As I lifted him into my arms, I could tell he wasn't breathing. I slid his head down my arm to be in position to open his airway. He made a gurgling sound and started to breathe shallow and laboriously. Then I took command. I told George that he needed to call a cab. I told Tom to get in the back seat, because he was in no shape to drive. Ron was to watch the other two children and Dan got behind the wheel. We were off to get my son help.
I had lived in Rhinelander, WI all my life, so I knew my way around the hospital. When we got there, our neighbor was at the desk. I told her, "My little boy has been run over by a car. Get him help, then I will fill out the paperwork!" I took him to an emergency exam room and laid him on the gurney. They brought a tiny oxygen mask that covered most of his face. Tom had passed out on the floor, so when a nurse came and asked if I wanted a sedative, I said, "No. But you might want to do something with him."
The orderlies came to take T.J. to x-ray. And I went out into the waiting room. I knew he was in capable hands and it was time to find some prayer warriors. Now, mind you, I had been planning a quiet day at home with my children and the laundry. I was wearing sweats and a t-shirt. No pockets. No money. I wasn't thinking about that when I walked up to the payphone. I picked up the phone and started to make calls. Some of them were 800 numbers. Most of them weren't. And the places that I called. I just didn't think about it at the time. But afterward, looking back, there were numbers that I didn't know. There were numbers for TV evangelists that I may have seen once or twice, but had not committed to memory; family members that I had never called; people from our church, whose number I may have seen in the registry, but had never used. All in all, I believe I made around 55-60 calls - from a payphone - with no money. Some of the calls I would stay on the line long enough to say a short prayer with whoever was on the other end. Sometimes I would just tell them, "My little boy has been run over by a car. Broken bones will heal. Please, pray for no internal injuries."
When I got done with the calls, I went to sit down and realized that Ron had, at some point, shown up with my other two children. While I was on the phone, Stefany, who was two months from turning four, had been busy in the waiting room. I got over to where they were and she said, "Mommy, we want to pray for T.J." I thought it was wonderful. I had been teaching them about Jesus from the day they were born. I didn't realize just how wonderful it really was. As we stood to hold hands in a circle of prayer, every single person in that room joined us. Everyone who was waiting for their own sick or injured loved one, every nurse, every orderly, all joined hands with us in that circle of prayer. And Stef led the prayer saying, "Jesus, you know I love my brother. Please fix him inside so he won't die. Please, don't let all his blood come out. Thank you. In Jesus name, Amen" I don't think there was a dry eye in that room. Right after that the doctor came out and wanted to talk to me. It was a small town so he knew me. He had fixed a broken arm or two of mine as a kid.
He asked me to tell him again what had happened to T.J. So I related the story to him again. That is when he told me I had a miracle child. That there was no medical explanation for him to even be alive. There were bruises in the shape of the tire tread from his ear lobe to his knee. When the bumper had knocked him down, he fell with his hear under the car and his feet sticking out. He had scrapes from the gravel in the driveway that went from his shoulder to his calf. The purple freckles were broken blood vessels. The whites of his eye, which were the last thing to heal, were totally covered in red. But the most miraculous thing was that he had two fractured ribs and NO INTERNAL INJURIES! Dr. E wanted to keep him for a few days for observation. But, by medical definition, he could have gone home.
Then came the next miracle. He was in a private room. The doctor did not want any chance of infection. His muscles were so sore that it took him a couple of months to be walking again. The first morning the gifts and flowers started to arrive. And they kept coming. Some from people I had called. Some from friends and family. But most from the people in the waiting room. And the people they had told. Every day I had to send things home to keep from overflowing the room. And we gave some away, to keep from overflowing our house! It was simply amazing!
He was there for four days when the doctor requested new x-rays. A couple of hours later, he came into T.J.'s room and asked me to go with him to look at something. Down the hall was an examining room. As we went inside, the doctor asked me if I remembered what broken bones looked like on an x-ray. I said I did. He put an x-ray up on the lighted reading board and we discussed T.J.'s accident and the two fractured ribs. Dr. E was a Christian man and believed that my son had experienced a miracle. He showed it to me when he put the new x-ray up next to the one of only four days before. You could not see where the break had been! You could see it plainly on the first picture. But it had been healed so completely in only four days that there was not even a bulge of calcium to show where it had been!
Yes. This is my testimony on the power of prayer. For healing, for money for a payphone, for strength in time of need, for bringing together people who need to believe. My son is going to be 25 in a couple of weeks. He is a good, God fearing man. There is a reason that the Lord spared him that day. To strengthen the faith of those touched by him. Whether it was that day, or any of the many days since. To give us all a testimony of the healing power of prayer.
By Linda Hastings
© September 2007
I first met Barry in the mid-80's while working as the secretary for the President of a limousine company in the town where I grew up, a suburb of Dallas. My boss, Charles was the newly appointed President of the National Limousine Association based in Washington, DC. Barry, a man nearly twice my age and also serving on the board lived near the Associations' headquarters and would routinely call to discuss issues with my boss. When Barry would call he would exuberantly say "Good morning!!!" and you could tell from his voice and tone that it really was!
Being a young mother of two small daughters, often it was well up into the day before my morning felt "good" to me. Usually fatigued from the daily routine of getting dinner the night before, baths, making lunches, helping with homework, and then getting up early to rush the girls off to school and drive the 20+ miles to work in traffic, I would be doing well to muster up a smile, much less any enthusiasm, yet Barry's calls would always rejuvenate me.
As time went on, I found myself anxiously awaiting his phone calls. He would always ask about my family and before long he knew as much about my family as my closest friends. He would be genuine in his interest to hear how the girls were doing as well as my husband, Bill.
His laughter was contagious and his zest for life always made me glad he called. Barry spoke of his family too, a wife of many years, children and his most recent family addition, a grandson. You could tell from our conversations that he not only loved life, but also his family. In the spring of '88 his work with the Association would bring him to Dallas. When he called to tell me the news that he would, at last, get to meet me in person, I was ecstatic! I had long wondered what he looked like and wanted to see for myself if that enthusiasm on the phone was indeed something that was the 'real deal'.
Barry arrived some weeks later and chose to stay over on Saturday to see some of the Dallas area. He had asked if Bill, the girls and I were up for showing him around and I jumped at the opportunity, saying "yes" without first checking with the family.
As it turned out, there was a softball tournament that Saturday and Bill, being an assistant coach, could not get out of attending it. Feeling bad that I had already accepted the invitation to show him the city, I begged off from sitting in the stands for hours watching teams of children play softball (none of which included my own) and said nothing to Barry of the change in plans.
On that Saturday we were to meet at his hotel for brunch. His treat! When I arrived alone he was hugely disappointed that the girls and Bill were not with me. I explained the circumstances and he asked if we could include a trip to the ball fields as part of our excursion that day and I agreed. Little did I know that the events of that day would change me forever!
Barry was a gentleman in every sense of the word and his attitude and humor kept me entertained throughout the entire day - one surprise after another. However, it was the way he treated others that would remain with me and alter my ways of thinking for a lifetime.
It started first with the waitress at brunch. He made sure he knew her name and called her by it throughout the morning meal, but it didn't stop there. He complimented her on the tiniest of tasks and genuinely showed an interest in every part of her job. When she warmed up to us, his humor kicked in. When she asked if we were from out of town, he remarked that he had flown in because we were getting married that afternoon! He continued by asking her if she didn't agree that I was the most beautiful woman in the world and wouldn't I make a lovely bride for him.
Obviously, the waitress didn't know what to say seeing that we were years apart in age, so she smiled and agreed with him. He went on with his charade as I sat smiling and listening to his ridiculous story. All the while he made it remarkably believable. When she walked away, I laughed and told him how crazy he was and he laughed just as hard as I.
Throughout our meal our waitress would provide the best of service, coming to check on us regularly and offering anything that she could possibly bring us. It was obvious that she couldn't get enough of Barry and his outlandish story and every time she appeared at the table, he added to it even going so far as to invite her to the 'wedding' that afternoon.
It was hard to contain myself as I wondered what he would do if she accepted. I could tell from that first experience I was in for a day full of surprises and Barry didn't disappoint me. After walking out into the lobby, still laughing about his charade with the waitress, we encountered the hotel custodian, an elderly black man with graying hair and a demeanor so low I sensed immediately that he wanted to be invisible. As he polished and cleaned the lobby tables and doors we stood talking about the day's agenda.
Barry wanted to run up to his room and get his sunglasses and I told him I'd wait there in the lobby for him. We were standing near the elevator and the custodian had made his way over to clean out the ashtrays. I remember them being the ones with the sand on the top that, when freshened up, had the hotel's logo pressed into the clean sand.
Barry went into action! He greeted the elderly custodian with the warmest "hello, good morning, sir" that I have ever heard - much like that between two long lost friends at a chance meeting. The custodian smiled and softly returned a shy "hello" back as he continued with the ashtrays. Barry was relentless.
"How are you (waiting for his name) today?" The old man replied "Oh, fine".
"And what is your name, sir?" The old man replied with his first name, Henry.
"Well, Mr. Henry." Barry began. "No, sir, that's my first name, Henry. Me's last name is Turner", was his reply.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Turner", Barry said. Mr. Turner now smiling and standing a little straighter and taller turned to look towards me. I returned the smile, waiting to see what was in store for us both from Barry.
He continued. "Mr. Turner, how long have you worked for the hotel?" he asked.
"Oh, nearly five years now" came his reply.
"And do you take care of this beautiful lobby all by yourself, or do you have help?"
Barry continued to pry. "No sir, I do it all by myself, ain't got no helpers, don't need nobody, I likes doing it real nice by myself" he answered.
Barry then walked towards the ash try he had just finished restoring to perfection. "Mr. Turner, how do you get that logo in the sand like that, I have often wondered how it's done and you're the first person I have ever seen who could actually tell me." Mr. Turner, now standing tall and confident walked over to the next ashtray and proceeded to show Barry the tricks of the trade so to speak. He carried a rubber stamp in his supplies that when pressed into the smoothed out sand made the logo prominent. "Jest like that, sir", was Mr. Turner's reply.
Barry studied the logo in the sand intently and turned to Mr. Turner and remarked, "well, I'll be - that is impressive if I must say so - and that must take practice to get it right in the center and make it stand out like that - yes, a real art I'd say".
Barry had turned his total and complete attention to the aging custodian, showing him a genuine interest in this mundane tasks and Mr. Turner was thriving on the attention he was getting. The elevator arrived and Barry went up. The elderly custodian began to whistle a little tune as he continued his cleaning and when he got to the next ashtray, he stood looking at his work as an artist does upon completing a masterpiece.
Sitting silently in the lobby glancing through a magazine I began to take it all in. I marveled at the changes that had come over Mr. Turner - he walked tall now to the next ash tray, his head held high, a smile on his withered face and he whistled softly - a transformation made in only moments by an act of respect and a few spoken words.
The remainder of the day proved to be more of the same as we visited historical locations, shops and even the ball fields where we found the girls and Bill intently watching the softball tournament. Everywhere we went Barry made the people he encountered feel like they were the owner or president of their company, or could be! His enthusiasm and concentrated interests in whatever they were doing brought smiles and opened conversation everywhere we went.
Later that night, alone with my thoughts, I re-played the video in my mind of Barry making small talk with total strangers standing near us in a line, the waitress, Mr. Turner and even the way he reacted when meeting my family. What a difference he made in the lives of those he would never meet again, whose day was made more special because of a word, a smile, a story.
I closed my eyes and thought to myself, I want to live my life just like Barry - making those I encounter feel important everywhere I go! The following year, the limousine company I worked for declared bankruptcy and closed its doors. I was handed the word processor on my desk as payment for my last two weeks at work.
School was about to end for summer vacation and I decided to take that time to enjoy it with the girls and think of what I would do next. Barry stayed in touch with me, making sure I would be all right in light of my sudden loss of work and an income. I assured him I was fine and that I would bounce back come September when school started back and that I would find other employment.
It was then that Barry began to encourage me to start my own business - he reminded me that I had the knowledge and personality to be successful and now I had an expensive tool by which to get started - the computer. At first it seemed more like the story of us getting married that day - totally ridiculous - but he wouldn't let it go.
As we continued to converse over the summer it became more and more evident that he was right - I could do it! I spent the summer gearing up for my new company, "Secretarial Solutions" and on the first day of school while dropping the girls off I heard a knock on my van window. I rolled down the glass and a gentleman asked for my business card.
Puzzled, I asked, "What business card?" forgetting the signs on the side of our van advertising my new business. He smiled, "Isn't this your van?" "Yes" I replied and then snapped to what he meant and scrambled to find my new business card to hand him. He became my very first customer!
For the remaining 4 years my business grew and I thrived. Barry was there for me each time I needed advice or direction and always for encouragement. Whenever I found an opportunity - which was daily - I put into action what Barry had shown me - and even today it is the standard by which I live.
Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to Barry Locke, and then I smile knowing if he isn't still here on earth making people feel important, he is surely in heaven making up stories to entertain the angels!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Linda has been writing for a number of years now and writes about true experiences that are near and dear to her heart. Many of her stories are tributes to family members. In addition to writing, Linda is a full time Executive Assistant with two grown daughters and a loving husband that enjoys spending leisure time with her on the lake or on their Harley Davidson. Linda's love for writing stories began when her children were small; she would create tales to entertain them using their names and their friends as the characters. Linda's stories have been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, the book and the weekly newspaper syndicate, Fort Worth Business Press and you may recognize her name from other stories she has shared on MyDailyInsights as well. You can reach Linda at lghastings@embarqmail.com
by Kathy Whirity
It was a question that had me asking a question of my own.
A recent article I read posed the question: If you could relive a summer memory what would it be?
On this lazy summer's afternoon the musings of my middle age mentality have me asking a question of my own. How can you choose just one?
A trip down memory lane brought me back to a tree lined street in the Roseland community -- a quaint and quiet neighborhood where we lived until I was about 12 years old.
Across the railroad tracks from our home was an indoor pool. My brothers, sister and I would often go swimming there.
One afternoon, as I ran across the tracks from the "Pump" as we called it, I saw my dad in the backyard, the contents of a kiddie pool strewn about the lawn.
Patience was not a virtue that my dad possessed, which is why our pool was the only pool in the neighborhood whose liner was clamped down with clothes pins.
When filled to the rim the shallow water reached right below my knees. But it didn't stop us from splish-splashing away many hot summer days.
My dad also loved having barbecues, though he was far from a genius at the grill. He'd make a grand production but the result would always yield the same result -- hamburgers the size and consistency of charcoal and hot dogs that ended up resembling beef jerky.
I do remember his milk shakes being the best. He'd dump a half gallon of ice cream in the big green mixing bowl and add milk and chocolate syrup. Then he'd mix it all with the hand mixer and ladle it into the tall fancy glasses usually reserved for company. Dad tried his best despite his dysfunction in cooking. And, besides, it wasn't about the food as much as it was about the togetherness of family.
Sunday mornings were always special when grandma spent the weekend. She'd stand at the stove, in her flowered duster, and make us German pancakes. They were crepes we'd spread with butter, sprinkle with sugar, roll up and eat. They were so good!
It's been more than 40 years since I've tasted one of her breakfast specialties, but all I have to do is close my eyes and I can see her standing there at the stove. With that memory, the word "comfort" food takes on a whole new meaning.
Long car rides were also an adventure we'd do as a family on summer evenings. Our dad would do the driving while we kids would sit in the back seat, with all the windows rolled down as our hair would blow carefree in the soft, warm wind of the season. We'd cap the evening off with a trip to the penny candy store where everything really was a penny.
Many a mid summer's morning you could find mom standing at the ironing board. She'd fill a Pepsi bottle with water and attach a big plastic flower petal, with tiny holes, to the top of the bottle. She'd sprinkle the clothes with water, wipe her brow with a hankie as she'd continue pressing out the wrinkles on clothes, long before the concept of permanent press apparel became popular.
Our bed time treat rarely varied. After baths were taken, mom would place a pint of ice cream on the table. She always sliced it into 4 perfect slices, one for each of us.
The question the author posed about choosing one memory to relive has opened a flood gate of memories too many to choose from.
If I had a choice, I think I'd rather opt for one more day to spend with my family in that house on 104th place in Roseland. To smell the Lillies of the Valley that grew wild and untouched in the front yard. To catch lightning bugs in the backyard and bike ride around the block, with my little brother teasing me and my friends because we couldn't leave the block.
What I wouldn't give, as an adult, to sit on the old back porch and sip a milk shake my dad had made especially for me.
To laugh with my grandma and to have a chat with my mom -- if she could be as she was and I could be who I am now. (I'd have a lot of thanking to do.)
It's a gift to reclaim a sense of our summer's youth. While we can't relive the past, it's a blessing to know, that through memories, we never really grow old.
-- Kathy Whirity <kathywhirity at yahoo.com>
____________________________________________
Kathy is a newspaper columnist who shares her sentimental musings on family life. She is also a contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul book series. She and her husband, Bill, live in Chicago. You can visit her website at: http://www.kathywhirity.com
The Gentle Beast
Lightning was a magnificent mustang purchased by a couple that rented land from a woman named Susie. He stood 15-1/2 hands tall and was deep red in color with black stockings on all four feet, long black tail and mane that waved softly as he galloped across the field. Down his face blazed a white streak of lightning that could be seen in the blackness of night. Though he stood proudly, he was a horse that had been neglected by his former owner and he was underweight. I visited Susie's house almost everyday just to see Lightning. I watched him as he ate and ran. I watched every gesture he made with his feet and his head. When the owners would come out to feed him, he would stand far away and wait until they left before going to his food. As time went on, he rounded out very nicely and he became very muscular. His red coat glistened in the sun.
Each day, I would stand a little closer to the fence. I yearned for him to know that I was his friend. Each time, he would draw a little closer, always staring intently at me, as if watching my every move. I sang to him my favorite praise and worship songs from church and the radio and when I spoke to him, it was always in a whisper or a low soft tone. One day, as I slowly approached the fence, Lightning stood and never flinched. His ears were laid flat back, but he never moved. So, I began to sing softly to him and instead of me standing up facing him eye to eye, I slowly sat down in the grass. Alert to my every move, he watched and as time went on, he inched closer and closer to the wire fence. He began sniffing my shoes and legs, which were under the fence on his side. Pushing his head through the wire, he came forward and we were face to face. He nibbled on my long sleeves and then all of a sudden, pushed his face into my chest. This huge wild animal could have trampled me if he wanted.
Days that followed became more and more awesome between Lightning and myself and we developed a bond, a respect and love for each other. Then, one day, the couple who owned Lightning happened to step out on the porch as I was stroking his neck. Lightning heard their door close and his head snapped back and his nostrils flared. The gentle look in his eyes just a few minutes earlier had become a fiery glare of hatred and fear. This I did not understand, until one evening, I stepped out of Susie's house onto her front porch. The owners of Lightning had captured him and saddled him up to ride him. He was tied between two posts, his body quivering as they saddled him. His hindquarters moved frantically back and forth. They grabbed the bit and pulled on his ears trying to get it into his mouth and Lightning screamed in pain as the owner, with all his might, balled up his fist and punched Lightning right across the face, trying to get Lightning to behave. That day will stay with me for the rest of my life.
Like Lightning, many of us have had horrible things happen to us in our past. We hunger perhaps, not for food, but for love, companionship, and understanding. We do not need those who would tell us where we went wrong and we sure don't need anyone telling us what to do and how to do it. What we need is someone who will listen, someone who will accept us for what and who we are and not throw the punch of judgment toward us. We need someone who will speak gently with us, who will sing with us, bringing peace to our souls, minds, and to our hearts. We need that special someone to reach out with a gentle hand of trust and reassurance, to understand that each individual is created differently, and to lovingly stand by us.
As time went on, Lightning became uncontrollable toward the owners and they eventually sold him. I remember the day I said good-bye to him. There I stood face to face with this gentle beast. I felt his hunger for attention and love. I felt his anger and fear toward those who mistreated him and my heart went out to him. As my hands slowly glided across his neck and down his broad chest, he trembled, not in fear of me, but of not knowing what was beyond, of where he would end up. A trembling that I shared of not being able to be near that special someone who brought love, trust, happiness, and understanding to his heart. If I could have bought him, I would have, but instead, he was shipped off to yet another home. The love that we once shared, he found once again in his new home and so for Lightning, it was a happy ending. A long awaited and well deserved ending.
--Maria Urso
Are You a Bucket-Filler or a Dipper?
Author Unknown
You have heard of the cup that overflowed. This is a story of a bucket that is like the cup, only larger, it is an invisible bucket. Everyone has one. It determines how we feel about ourselves, about others, and how we get along with people. Have you ever experienced a series of very favorable things which made you want to be good to people for a week? At that time, your bucket was full.<
