My Lighthouse

I recently discovered this song, and it may just be a new favourite. It is certainly about one of my favourite things.

Pep Talk

25 Things Worth Thinking About

1) Give God what's RIGHT -- not what's LEFT.

2) Man's way leads to hopeless end; God's way leads to
endless hope.

3) A lot of kneeling will keep you in good standing.

4) He who kneels before God can stand before anyone.

5) In the sentence of life, the devil may be a comma, but
never let him be the period.

6) Don't put a question mark where God puts a period.

7) Are you wrinkled with burden? Come to the church for a
faith-lift.

8) When praying, don't give God instructions -- just report
for duty.

9) Don't wait for six strong men to take you to the church.

10) We don't change God's message; His message changes us.

11) All churches should be prayer-conditioned.

12) When God ordains, He sustains.

13) WARNING: Exposure to the Son may prevent burning.

14) Plan ahead -- it wasn't raining when Noah built the ark.

15) Most people want to serve God, but only in an advisory
position.

16) Suffering from truth decay? Brush up with your Bible on
a daily basis.

17) Exercise daily! Walk with the Lord.

18) Never give the devil a ride -- he will always want to
drive.

19) Nothing else ruins the truth like stretching it.

20) Compassion is difficult to give away because it keeps
coming back.

21) He who angers you controls you.

22) Worry is the darkroom in which negatives can develop.

23) Give Satan an inch, and he'll be a ruler.

24) Be ye fishers of men -- you catch them, and God will
clean them.

25) God does not call the qualified; he qualifies the
called.

Received from Rick Widdison.

You have Two Choices

I have a feeling I may have blogged this story before, but I think it it worth it.

PLEASE READ THIS E-MAIL. ANYONE WHO HAS CHILDREN WILL UNDERSTAND AND APPRECIATE THIS STORY.

NEVER LOOSE FAITH IN THE POWER OF CHILDREN
Would you make the same choice?????????
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'The audience was stilled by the query.The father continued.'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'Then he told the following story:Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?'I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat.
Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all teammates.Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!Run to first!'Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. The smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!Shay, run to third!'As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.The crude, vulgar and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.If you’re thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?A wise man once said 'every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them'.You now have two choices:

1. Delete
2. Forward

May your day, be a Shay Day.

"Life is like a combination lock; your job is tofind the right numbers, in the right order, so you can have anything you want."- Brian Tracy

I'm not sure I quite agree with the last portion of this quote, but I do agree that life does seeem like a combination lock at times.

FATHER'S EYES

Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion, shares a moving story about a
skinny young boy who loved football with all his heart. Practice after
practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But being half the size of the
other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful
athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever played.

This teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a very
special relationship. Even though the son was always on the bench, his
father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game.

This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high
school. But his father continued to encourage him but also made it very
clear that he did not have to play football if he didn't want to. But the
young man loved football and decided to hang in there. He was determined to
try his best at every practice, and perhaps he'd get to play when he became
a senior. All through high school he never missed a practice nor a game but
remained a bench warmer all four years. His faithful father was always in
the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.

When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football
team as a "walk-on". Everyone was sure he could never make the cut, but he
did. The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster because he always
puts his heart and soul in every practice, and at the same time, provided
the other members with the spirit and hustle they badly needed. The news
that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he rushed to the
nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and
was sent season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young
athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never
got to play in the game.

It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the
practice field shortly before the big play off game, the coach met him with
a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent.
Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is
it all right if I miss practice today?"

The coach put his arm gently around his shoulder and said, "Take the rest of
the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday

Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well. In the third quarter,
when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped
into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the
sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful
teammate back so soon. "Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play
today." said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was
no way he wanted his worst player in this close playoff game.

But the young man persisted, and finally feeling sorry for the kid, the
coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in".

Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not
believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was
doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he
passed, looked and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The
score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid
intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fans
broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering
you never heard!

Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the
locker room the coach noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in the
corner all alone. The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe
it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"

He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Well, you knew my
dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?' The young man swallowed
hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today was the first
time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!"

Like the athlete's father, God is always there cheering for us. He's always
reminding us to go on. He's even offering us His hand for He knows what is
best and is willing to give us what we need and not simply what we want. God
has never missed a single game.

What a joy to know that life is meaningful if lived for the Highest. Live
for HIM for He's watching us in the game of life.

-- Author Unknown

St Theresa's Prayer

Saint Theresa's Prayer

May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be confident knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.

Caring Child

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 what he had said to the neighbour, the little boy said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry'

Red Marbles---what a great message!

RED MARBLES


I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.
I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.
I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.

Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble', Mr. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man.

A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.

Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died.
They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.
Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles.
With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them.
Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size...they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho '.
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral : We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself.
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.
Green stoplights on your way to work.
The fastest line at the grocery store.
A good sing-along song on the radio.
Your keys found right where you left them.
Send this to the people you'll never forget.
I just Did...
If you don't send it to anyone, it means you are in way too much of a hurry to even notice the ordinary miracles when they occur.

It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived!

Life is short, do it now or you will have missed it!'

Theology of Faith class

Rev. John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about Tommy, a student in his Theology of Faith class.

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith.

That was the day I first saw Tommy.

My eyes and my mind both blinked.

He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders.

It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long.

I guess it was just coming into fashion then.

I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on that day, I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange... very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course.

He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God.

We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy.

"No!" I said very emphatically.

"Why not?," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, "Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!"

He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line:

"He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever.

Later, I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came.

I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer.

Before I could search him out, he came to see me.

When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy.

But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe.

"Tommy, I've thought about you so often--I hear you are sick", I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?", I asked.

"Sure, what would you like to know?", he replied.

"What's it like to be only twenty four and dying?", I asked.

"Well, it could be worse.", he replied.

"Like what?", I asked.

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals; like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real 'biggies' in life.", he replied.

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under 'S' where I had filed Tommy as strange.

(It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

"But what I really came to see you about", Tom said, "is something you said to me on the last day of class."

(He remembered!)

He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which surprised me.

Then you said, 'But He will find you.'

I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time."

(My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)

"But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God.

And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven.

But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit."

"Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit.. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: "The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.'"

"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad.

He was reading the newspaper when I approached him.

"Dad."

"Yes, what?", he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean... It's really important".

The newspaper came down three slow inches.

"What is it?"

"Dad, I love you--I just wanted you to know that."

Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him.

"The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me."

"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to."

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop:" 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give You three days, three weeks.'

"Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him."

"Tommy", I practically gasped: "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: 'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.'" (1 John 4:16)

"Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell it."

"Ooh I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."

"Tom, think about it If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days, Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it.

He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to your class", he said. "I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God's love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of Heaven --- I told them, Tommy as best I could.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.

It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

With thanks,

Rev. John Powell, Professor - Loyola University in Chicago

A lovely story...

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys arranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two. Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.

He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store, and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whoever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings, I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money--fully half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home. One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, nothing, and just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still was not enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too.

I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boy's pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair. On Christmas Eve, the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Jack. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around, talked through the wee hours of the morning, and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids would not wake up before I managed to get home, get the presents from the basement, and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump.) It was still dark and I could not see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car-or was that just a trick of the night?

Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car, I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There was candy, nuts, bananas, and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. In addition, there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. Moreover, I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning. Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.

- John Wooden

Friends/how true is this

"To My Fellow Frogs"

Once upon a time there was a bunch of tiny frogs.... who arranged a running competition. The goal was to reach the top of a very high tower.

A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on the contestants.... The race began....

Honestly: No one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of the tower. You heard statements such as:
"Oh, WAY too difficult!!"
"They will NEVER make it to the top."
or: "Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"

The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one.... Except for those, who in a fresh tempo, were climbing higher and higher.

The crowd continued to yell, "It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!"

More tiny frogs got tired and gave up.... But ONE continued higher and higher and higher.... This one wouldn't give up!

At the end everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny frog who, after a big effort, was the only one who reached the top! THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally wanted to know how this one frog managed to do it?

A contestant asked the tiny frog how he had found the strength to succeed and reach the goal? It turned out.... That the winner was DEAF!!!!

The wisdom of this story is: Never listen to other people's tendencies to be negative or pessimistic.... because they take your most wonderful dreams and wishes away from you -- the ones you have in your heart!

Always think of the power words have. Because everything you hear and read will affect your actions!

Therefore: ALWAYS be.... POSITIVE!

And above all: Be DEAF when people tell YOU that you cannot fulfill your dreams!
Always think: God and I can do this!

WHY GOD ALLOWS PAIN...

This is one of the best explanations of why God allows pain and suffering that I have seen...

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects.
When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists."

"Why do you say that?" asked the customer. "Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children?

If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things." The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop.

Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt.

The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber: "You know what? Barbers do not exist."
"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber.
"I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"
"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside."

"Ah, but barbers DO exist! That's what happens when people do not come to me."
"Exactly!" affirmed the customer. "That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! That's what happens when people do not go to Him and don't look to Him for help. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world."

BE BLESSED & BE A BLESSING TO OTHERS !!!!!!!

Hugs for you!!

The Cross

The Cross In My Pocket

 
I carry a cross in my pocket,
a simple reminder to me
of the fact that I am a Christian
no matter where I may be.
This little cross is not magic
nor is it a good luck charm.
It isn't meant to protect me
from every physical harm.
It's not for identification,
for all the world to see.
It's simply an understanding
between my Savior and me.
When I put my hand in my pocket
to bring out a coin or key,
the Cross is there to remind me
of the price He paid for me.
It reminds me too, to be thankful,
for my blessings day by day,
and to strive to serve Him better
in all that I do and say.
It's also a daily reminder
of the peace and comfort I share
with all who know my Master
and give themselves to His care.
So, I carry a cross in my pocket,
reminding no one but me,
that Jesus Christ is Lord of my life,
if only I'll let Him be.
    By Verna Thomas

Just to Make You Smile

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The Winner

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye, "There's no sense running anymore- three strikes and I'm out- why try?"
The will to rise has disappeared, all hope had fled away, so far behind, so error prone, closer all the way."
I've lost, so what's the use", he thought "I'll live with my disgrace."
But then he thought about his dad who soon he'd have to face.
Get up, and echo sounded low, get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here, so get up and win the race.
With Borrowed will, "Get up!", It said, "You haven't lost at all, for winning is not more than this, to rise each time you fall."
So he rose to win once more, and with new commitment he resolved to winor lose, at least he wouldn't quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been, still he gave it all he had, and ran as though to win.
Three times he'd fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
To far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner as he crossed.
First place, head high and proud and happy, no falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngster crossed the line, last place,the crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last, with head bow low, unproud.
You would have thought he won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well".
To me, you won, his father said, you rose each time you fell.
And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face, the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
"Quit! Give up you're beaten," they will shout in my face.
But another voice within me says, "Get up and win that race!"

-- Author Unknown

as found on Sisterchicks