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Post by banger on May 14, 2009 18:34:02 GMT
I’ve never made a fortune, and it’s probably too late now. But I don’t worry about that much, I’m happy anyhow.
And as I go along life’s way, I’m reaping better than I sowed. I’m drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed.
Haven’t got a lot of riches, and sometimes the going’s tough. But I’ve got loving ones all around me, and that makes me rich enough.
I thank God for his blessings, and the mercies He’s bestowed. I’m drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed.
I remember times when things went wrong, My faith wore somewhat thin. But all at once the dark clouds broke, and the sun peeped through again.
So Lord, help me not to gripe, about the tough rows I have hoed. I’m drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed.
If God gives me strength and courage, When the way grows steep and rough. I’ll not ask for other blessings, I’m already blessed enough.
And may I never be too busy, to help others bear their loads. Then I’ll keep drinking from my saucer, ‘Cause my cup has overflowed.
When I think of how many people in this world have it worse than I do. I realize just how blessed most of us really are.
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Post by banger on May 14, 2009 18:37:28 GMT
Failure doesn’t mean you are a failure… …it does mean you haven’t succeeded yet.
Failure doesn’t mean you have accomplished nothing… …it does mean you have learned something.
Failure doesn’t mean you have been a fool… …it does mean you had a lot of faith.
Failure doesn’t mean you have been disgraced… …it does mean you were willing to try.
Failure doesn’t mean you don’t have it… …it does mean you have to do something in a different way.
Failure doesn’t mean you are inferior… …it does mean you are not perfect.
Failure doesn’t mean you’ve wasted your life… …it does mean you’ve a reason to start afresh.
Failure doesn’t mean you should give up… …it does mean you should try harder.
Failure doesn’t mean you’ll never make it… …it does mean it will take a little longer.
Failure doesn’t mean God has abandoned you… …it does mean God has a better idea
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Post by Kimmy on May 15, 2009 8:23:30 GMT
Today she's getting married, my young daughter is a bride. There are no words that can express, the way I feel inside.
She's now a woman old enough, to go out on her own. I still can't get it in my mind, my little girl is grown.
This day approached so quickly, and in just a little while, I'll have to take my daughter's arm, to walk her down the isle.
I'll stand there beside her, when I hear the preacher say, "Is there one among you, who will give this girl away?"
I will repeat the simple phrase, I was instructed to. Then I will smile and loudly say, "Her mother and I do."
Then I will turn and walk away, and find the second pew, And realize that was the hardest thing I'll ever do.
It's not that I'm not happy, for the life she now will start. I know she found a great young man, who's given her his heart.
I guess it's just a "father thing," as I choke back the tears. I was the only man who shared, her life through all these years.
Most father's will not tell you, this day brings a little grieving. In their heart they know, a little part of them is leaving.
They are happy, they are sad, emotions running wild. Why is it the father's job, to give away a child?
A father knows his life will change, after all of this, But only wants his daughter, to find total happiness.
So as I stand and say the words, I'm giving her away, To a very special young man, on this special day.
Know this my young, sweet daughter, that way down deep in my heart, You'll always be my little girl, and we will never part.
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Post by Kimmy on May 16, 2009 9:18:02 GMT
I struggled with the challenge,once more presented me. The fear my daughter again was ill and would be called upon to leave. Although I wanted to fall upon, my knees, in prayer to you. You patiently took me by the hand and taught me what to do. I trusted you completely, the wisdom of your words. That need to be unselfish, if I was to be heard. So I thanked you for her birth and life when she was young. For everything that she was now and all she might become. I prayed for ALL your children, who suffered in the world. My reward, Your loving mercy when you spared my little girl. Now whenever I'm alone and on my knees to pray. "God Bless ALL the Children of the World" are the words I always say.
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Post by Kimmy on May 17, 2009 8:35:02 GMT
A weary mother returned from the store, Lugging groceries through the kitchen door. Awaiting her arrival was her 8 year old son, Anxious to relate what his younger brother had done.
"While I was out playing and Dad was on a call, T.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall! It's on the new paper you just hung in the den. I told him you'd be mad at having to do it again."
She let out a moan and furrowed her brow, "Where is your little brother right now?" She emptied her arms and with a purposeful stride, She marched to his closet where he had gone to hide.
She called his full name as she entered his room. He trembled with fear - he knew that meant doom! For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved About the expensive wallpaper, and how she had saved.
Lamenting all the work it would take to repair, She condemned his actions and total lack of care. The more she scolded, the madder she got, Then stomped from his room, totally distraught!
She headed for the den to confirm her fears. When she saw the wall, her eyes flooded with tears. The message she read pierced her soul with a dart. It said, "I love Mommy," surrounded by a heart.
Well, the wallpaper remained, just as she found it, With an empty picture frame hung to surround it. A reminder to her, and indeed to all, Take time to read the handwriting on the wall.
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Post by Kimmy on May 17, 2009 16:08:24 GMT
True Duck Story from San Antonio, Texas >> >> Something really cute happened in downtown San Antonio this week. Michael R. is an accounting clerk at Frost Bank and works there in a second story office. Several weeks ago, he watched a mother duck choose the concrete awning outside his window as the unlikely place to build a nest above the sidewalk. The mallard laid ten eggs in a nest in the corner of the planter that is perched over 10 feet in the air. She dutifully kept the eggs warm for weeks, and Monday afternoon all of her ten ducklings hatched. >> >> >> Michael worried all night how the momma duck was going to get those babies safely off their perch in a busy, downtown, urban environment to take to water, which typically happens in the first 48 hours of a duck hatching. Tuesday morning, Michael watched the mother duck encourage her babies to the edge of the perch with the intent to show them how to jump off. Office work came to a standstill as everyone gathered to watch. >> >> The mother flew down below and started quacking to her babies above. In disbelief Michael watched as the first fuzzy newborn trustingly toddled to the edge and astonishingly leapt into thin air, crashing onto the cement below. Michael couldn't stand to watch this risky effort nine more times! He dashed out of his office and ran down the stairs to the sidewalk where the first obedient duckling, near its mother, was resting in a stupor after the near-fatal fall. Michael stood out of sight under the awning-planter, ready to help. >> >> As the second one took the plunge, Michael jumped forward and caught it with his bare hands before it hit the concrete. Safe and sound, he set it down it by its momma and the other stunned sibling, still recovering from that painful leap. (The momma must have sensed that Michael was trying to help her babies.) >> >> One by one the babies continued to jump. Each time Michael hid under the awning just to reach out in the nick of time as the duckling made its free fall. At the scene the busy downtown sidewalk traffic came to a standstill. Time after time, Michael was able to catch the remaining eight and set them by their approving mother. >> >> At this point Michael realized the duck family had only made part of its dangerous journey. They had two full blocks to walk across traffic, crosswalks, curbs and past pedestrians to get to the closest open water, the San Antonio River, site of the famed "River Walk." The onlooking office secretaries and several San Antonio police officers joined in. An empty copy-paper box was brought to collect the babies. They carefully corralled them, with the mother's approval, and loaded them in the container. Michael held the box low enough for the mom to see her brood. He then slowly navigated through the downtown streets toward the San Antonio River. The mother waddled behind and kept her babies in sight, all the way. >> >> As they reached the river, the mother took over and passed him, jumping in the river and quacking loudly. At the water's edge, Michael tipped the box and helped shepherd the babies toward the water and to the waiting mother after their adventurous ride. >> >> All ten darling ducklings safely made it into the water and paddled up snugly to momma. Michael said the mom swam in circles, looking back toward the beaming bank bookkeeper, and proudly quacking. >> >> At last, all present and accounted for: "We're all together again. We're here! We're here!" >>
>> >> Like all of us in the big times of our life, they never could have made it alone without lots of helping hands. >>
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Post by Kimmy on May 18, 2009 7:41:50 GMT
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." Ahh. 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!"
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Post by Kimmy on May 19, 2009 8:07:01 GMT
If I live in a house of spotless beauty with everthing in its place, but have not love, I am a housekeeper--not a homemaker.
If I have time for waxing, polishing, and decorative achievements, but have not love, my children learn cleanliness--not godliness.
Love leaves the dust in search of a child's laugh. Love smiles at the tiny fingerprints on a newly cleaned window.
Love wipes away the tears before it wipes up the spilled milk. Love picks up the child before it picks up the toys.
Love is present through the trials. Love reprimands, reproves, and is responsive. Love crawls with the baby, walks with the toddler, runs with the child, then stands aside to let the youth walk into adulthood.
Love is the key that opens salvation's message to a child's heart.
Before I became a mother I took glory in my house of perfection. Now I glory in God's perfection of my child. As a mother, there is much I must teach my child, but the greatest of all is love.
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Post by Kimmy on May 19, 2009 9:20:59 GMT
Two Choices What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made 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 team mates. 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. B y 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 th e 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.
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Post by Kimmy on May 20, 2009 7:44:56 GMT
God, give me wisdom to see that today is my day with my children. That there is no unimportant moment in their lives. May I know no other career is as precious, No other work so rewarding, No other task so urgent. May I not defer it nor neglect it, But, by thy Spirit, accept it gladly, joyously, and by thy grace realize That the time is short and my time is now, For children won’t wait!
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Post by Kimmy on May 20, 2009 7:49:52 GMT
TIME TO STOP SMOKING.
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Post by Kimmy on May 21, 2009 7:54:12 GMT
Philip was born with Downs Syndrome. He was a pleasant child . . .happy it seemed . . . but increasingly aware of the difference between himself and other children. Philip went to Sunday School faithfully every week. He was in the third grade class with nine other eight-year olds.
You know eight-year olds. And Philip, with his differences, was not readily accepted. But his teacher was sensitive to Philip and he helped this group of eight-year olds to love each other as best they could, under the circumstances. They learned, they laughed, they played together. And they really cared about one another, even though eight-year olds don't say they care about one another out loud.
But don't forget. There was an exception to all this. Philip was not really a part of the group. Philip did not choose, nor did he want to be different. He just was. And that was the way things were.
His teacher had a marvelous idea for his class the Sunday after Easter. You know those things that pantyhose come in . . . the containers that look like great big eggs? The teacher collected ten of them. The children loved it whe he brought them into the room and gave one to each child. It was a beautiful spring day, and the assignment was for each child to go outside, find the symbol for new life, put it into the egg, and bring it back to the classroom They would then open and share their new life symbols and surprises, one by one.
It was glorious. It was confusing. It was wild. They ran all around the church grounds, gathering their symbols, and returned to the classroom.
They put all the eggs on a table, and then the teacher began to open them. All the children gathered around the table. He opened one and there was a flower, and they ooh-ed and aah-ed. He opened another and there was a little butterfly. "Beautiful!" the girls all said, since it is hard for eight-year old boys to say 'beautiful.' He opened another and there was a rock. And as third-graders will, some laughed, and some said, "That's crazy! How's a rock supposed to be like new life?" But the smart little boy who'd put it in ther spoke up: "That's mine. And I knew all of you would get flowers and buds and leaves and butterflies and stuff like that. So I got a rock because I wanted to be different. And for me, that's new life." They all laughed.
The teacher said something about the wisdom of eight-year olds and opened the next one. There was nothing inside. The children, as eight-year olds will, said, "That's not fair. That's stupid! Somebody didn't do it right."
Then the teacher felt a tug on his shirt, and he looked down. "It's mine, Philip said. It's mine."
And the children said, "You don't ever do things right, Philip. There's nothing there!"
"I did so do it right!" Philip said. "I did do it right. The tomb is empty!"
There was silence, a very full silence. And for you people who don't believe in miracles, I want to tell you that one happened that day. From that time on, it was different. Philip suddenly became a part of that group of eight-year old children. They took him in. He was set free from the tomb of his differentness.
Philip died last summer. His family had known since the time he was born that he wouldn't live out a full life span. Many other things were wrong with his little body. And so, late last July, with an infection that most normal children could have quickly shrugged off, Philip died.
At his memorial service, nine eight-year old children marched up to the altar, not with flowers to cover over the stark reality of death . . . but nine eight-year olds, along with their Sunday School teacher, marched right up to that altar, and laid on it an empty egg . . . an empty, old, discarded pantyhose egg.
And the tomb is empty!
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Post by Kimmy on May 22, 2009 6:43:39 GMT
Position: Mom
JOB DESCRIPTION: Long term team players needed for challenging permanent work in an often chaotic environment. Candidates must possess excellent communication and organizational skills and be willing to work various hours, which will include evenings and weekends and frequent 24 hour shifts on call. Some overnight travel required, including trips to primitive camping sites on rainy weekends and endless sports tournaments in faraway cities. Travel expenses not reimbursed. Extensive courier duties also required.
RESPONSIBILITIES: This is for the rest of your life. Must be willing to be hated at least temporarily, until someone needs $5 to go skating. Must be willing to bite tongue repeatedly. Also, must possess the physical stamina of a pack mule and be able to go from zero to 60 mph in three seconds flat in case, this time, the screams from the backyard are not someone just crying wolf. Must be willing to face stimulating technical challenges, such as small gadget repair, mysteriously sluggish toilets and stuck zippers. Must screen phone calls, maintain calendars and coordinate production of multiple homework projects. Must have ability to plan and organize social gatherings for clients of all ages and mental outlooks. Must be willing to be indispensable one minute, and embarrassed the next. Must handle assembly and product safety testing of a half million cheap, plastic toys and battery operated devices. Must always hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. Must assume final, complete accountability for the quality of the end product. Responsibilities also include floor maintenance and janitorial work throughout the facility.
POSSIBILITY FOR ADVANCEMENT AND PROMOTION: Virtually none. Your job is to remain in the same position for years, without complaining, constantly retraining and updating your skills, so that those in your charge can ultimately surpass you.
PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE: None required, unfortunately. On-the-job training offered on a continually exhausting basis.
WAGES AND COMPENSATION: You pay them, offering frequent raises and bonuses. A balloon payment is due when they turn 18 because of the assumption that college will help them become financially independent. When you die, you give them whatever is left. The oddest thing about this reverse-salary scheme is that you actually enjoy it and wish you could only do more.
BENEFITS: While no health or dental insurance, no pension, no tuition reimbursement, no paid holidays and no stock options are offered, job supplies limitless opportunities for personal growth and free hugs for life if you play your cards right.
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Post by Kimmy on May 23, 2009 10:30:34 GMT
When an ice cream sundae cost much less, a boy entered a coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?"
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired.
Some people were now waiting for a table, and the waitress was impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said angrily.
The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream."
The waitress brought the ice cream and walked away. The boy finished, paid the cashier, and departed. When the waitress came back, she swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies--her tip.
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Post by Kimmy on May 24, 2009 6:16:54 GMT
Daddy's Little Buddy. The miracle before my eyes. A reminder of God's presence, Every time I see him smile. His laughter is a joy to my Heart. His forgiveness makes mine pale when compared. He makes me laugh with a sense of humor, That he is always willing to share. The little things that excite him, Make me remember the kid I used to be. It reminds me to enjoy every moment more, Instead of letting the world get to me. Above all I only have to look at him, His daddy's pride and joy, To remember to thank my Heavenly Father above, For my special little boy. I understand now how much God loves us, Every time I hold him tight. God gave up the Son He loved so much, To give us eternal life. Thank You God For your Son and mine.
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Post by makingitslowly on May 24, 2009 8:50:34 GMT
I have a small sheet of paper with my grand fathers favourite poem on it.This piece of paper was with him in the Indian ocean after his ship was sunk during the second world war.
Here is said poem,one of my personal favourites ;
IF.....
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IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
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Post by Kimmy on May 25, 2009 9:03:33 GMT
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table, but the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor." Therefore, the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since grandfather had broken a dish two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days, he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently, provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day the building blocks are being laid for the child's future. Let us be wise builders and role models.
Always remember: "What goes around, comes around!" However, "Treating others as you would treat yourself or that you would like to be treated will grant you more love than not!
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Post by makingitslowly on May 25, 2009 9:22:13 GMT
I enjoyed reading that one Kimmy.Very true about kids missing nothing,even when they dont understand they are still taking the imformation on board.
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Post by Kimmy on May 26, 2009 9:40:39 GMT
I do not know how long I'll live But while I live, Lord, let me give Some comfort to someone in need By smile or nod, kind word or deed.
And let me do what ever I can To ease things for my fellow man. I want naught but to do my part To "lift" a tired or weary heart.
To change folks' frowns to smiles again. Then I will not have lived in vain And I'll not care how long I'll live If I can give ... and give ... and give.
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Post by Kimmy on May 27, 2009 7:28:09 GMT
This poem was written by an old woman living in a nursing home in Ireland. It was found among her things when she died.
What do you see nurses, what do you see? Are you thinking when you look at me? A crabbit old woman, not very wise, Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes, Who dribbles her food and makes no reply When you say in a loud voice- "I do wish you'd try." And forever is losing a sock or a shoe. Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will, With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill. Is that what you think, is that what you see? Open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still, As I use at your bidding, and eat at your will, I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters who loved one another, A young girl of 16, with wings on her feet, Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet. A bride soon at 20, my heart give a leap. Remembering the vows that I promised to keep. At 25 now, I have young of my own, Who need me to build a secure, happy home. A women of 30, my young now grow so fast, Bound to each other with ties that should last. At 40, my young sons have grown and are gone, But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn. At 50 once more, babies play round my knee, Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead. I look at the future and shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own, And I think of the years and the love that I've known, I'm and old women now and nature is cruel, Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart. There is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, And now and again, my battered heart swells, I remember the joys and I remember the pain, And I'm living and loving life over again, I think of the years all too few- gone too fast, And accept the stark fact that nothing can last. Open your eyes, nurse open and see. Not an empty old women, look closer- see ME.
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Post by Kimmy on May 28, 2009 7:42:50 GMT
I don't wish to be Everything to Everyone But I would like to be Something to Someone
For while some people have A shoulder to cry on It is the destiny of others That they must cry alone
We should always remember - To themselves No one is just another person
Touch gently the Life Of your fellow man For the human heart Shapes as easily As clay upon The potter's wheel
Our path is a little clearer Our steps are a little lighter And we appear a little taller When we walk beside Someone we Love
The pain we feel When someone leaves our life Is in direct proportion To the joy they bring While a part of our life For a few moments In my Life You made me feel As if I truly meant Something to Someone
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Post by Kimmy on May 29, 2009 6:23:50 GMT
Fearing the battle was over And I'd already lost the war, I was tired of trying and failing. I just couldn't fight anymore.
So, dragging my battle-scarred body, I crawled to the foot of the cross. And I sobbed. 'Oh please, Father forgive me. But I tried...I tried.. and still lost.'
Then the air grew silent around me. I heard his voice just as clear as the dawn: 'Oh, My child, though you are tired and weary, You can't stop, you have to go on.'
At the foot of the Cross , where I met Him, At the foot of the Cross, where He died, I felt love, as I knelt in His presence . I felt hope, as I looked in His eyes.
Then He gathered me lovingly to Him, As around us God's light clearly shone. And together we walked though my lifetime To heal every wound I had known.
I found bits of my dreams, long forgotten , And pieces of my life on the floor. But I watched as He tenderly blessed them, And my life was worth living once more.
I knew then why I had been losing. I knew why I had not grown. At the foot of the Cross came the answer: I'd been fighting the battle alone .
At the foot of the Cross, where I met Him, At the foot of the Cross, where He died, Then I knew I could face any challenge Together--just my Lord and I.
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Post by Kimmy on May 30, 2009 9:36:55 GMT
A man was on the side of the road with a large birdcage. A boy noticed that the cage was full of birds of many kinds. "Where did you get those birds?" he asked.
"Oh, all over the place," the man replied. "I lure them with crumbs, pretend I'm their friend then when they are close, I net them and shove them into my cage."
"And what are you going to do with them now?"
The man grinned, "I'm going to prod them with sticks, and get them really mad so they fight and kill each other. Those that survive, I will kill. None will escape."
The boy looked steadily at the man. What made him do such things? He looked into the cruel, hard eyes. Then he looked at the birds, defenceless, without hope.
"Can I buy those birds?" the boy asked.
The man hid a smile, aware that he could be on to a good thing if he played his cards right. "Well," he said hesitantly, "The cage is pretty expensive, and I spent a lot of time collecting these birds, I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll let you have the lot, birds, cage and all for ten pounds and that jacket you're wearing."
The boy paused, ten pounds was all he had, and the jacket was new and very special, in fact it was his prized possession. Slowly, he took out the ten pounds and handed it over, then even more slowly he took off his jacket, gave it one last look then handed that over too.
And then (well, you've guessed it) he opened the door and let the birds go free.
The Enemy of the world, Satan, was on the side of life's road with a very large cage. The man coming towards him noticed that it was crammed full of people of every kind, young, old, from every race and nation. "Where did you get these people?" the man asked.
"Oh, from all over the world," Satan replied. "I lure them with drink, drugs, lust, lies, anger, hate, love of money and all manner of things. I pretend I'm their friend, out to give them a good time, then when I've hooked them, into the cage they go."
"And what are you going to do with them now?" asked the man.
Satan grinned. "I'm going to prod them, provoke them, get them to hate and destroy each other; I'll stir up racial hatred, defiance of law and order; I'll make people bored, lonely, dissatisfied, confused and restless. It's easy. People will always listen to what I offer them and (what's better) blame God for the outcome!"
"And then what?" the man asked.
"Those who do not destroy themselves, I will destroy. None will escape me."
The man stepped forward. "Can I buy these people from you?" he asked.
Satan snarled, "Yes, but it will cost you your life."
So Jesus Christ, the Son of God, paid for your release, your freedom from Satan's trap, with His own life, on the cross at Calvary. The door is open, and anyone, whom Satan has deceived and caged, can be set free.
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Post by Kimmy on May 31, 2009 8:35:19 GMT
I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, so I drank soda instead.
I really felt proud inside, Mom, the way you said I would. I didn't drink and drive, Mom, even though the others said I should.
I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom, as everyone is driving out of sight.
As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me, so responsible and sweet.
I started to drive away, Mom, but as I pulled out into the road, the other car didn't see me, Mom, and hit me like a load.
As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say, the other guy is drunk, Mom, and now I'm the one who will pay.
I'm lying here dying, Mom. I wish you'd get here soon. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, Mom, and most of it is mine. I hear the medic say, Mom, I'll die in a short time.
I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn't drink. It was the others, Mom. The others didn't think.
He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank and I will die.
Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don't think it's fair. I'm lying here dying and all he can do is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I go to heaven, Mom, put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave
Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive. If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I'm becoming very scared. Please don't cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there.
I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye. I didn't drink and drive, so why am I the one to die?
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Post by makingitslowly on May 31, 2009 9:22:10 GMT
I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, so I drank soda instead. I really felt proud inside, Mom, the way you said I would. I didn't drink and drive, Mom, even though the others said I should. I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom, as everyone is driving out of sight. As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me, so responsible and sweet. I started to drive away, Mom, but as I pulled out into the road, the other car didn't see me, Mom, and hit me like a load. As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say, the other guy is drunk, Mom, and now I'm the one who will pay. I'm lying here dying, Mom. I wish you'd get here soon. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon. There is blood all around me, Mom, and most of it is mine. I hear the medic say, Mom, I'll die in a short time. I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn't drink. It was the others, Mom. The others didn't think. He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank and I will die. Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife. The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don't think it's fair. I'm lying here dying and all he can do is stare. Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I go to heaven, Mom, put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive. If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive. My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I'm becoming very scared. Please don't cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there. I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye. I didn't drink and drive, so why am I the one to die? Very thought provoking indeed.
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Post by Kimmy on Jun 1, 2009 7:50:24 GMT
I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas gifts. I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I kinda wished that I could just sleep through Christmas.
But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys. And wondered if the grandkids would even play with them. I found myself in the doll aisle.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy, about 5, holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered who the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman, and he called his aunt by name and said, "Are you sure I don't have enough money?"
She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don't have enough money for it." The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere, that she had to go get some other things and would be back in a few minutes. And then she left the aisle.
The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for. He said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa would bring it." I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it. He said, "No, Santa can't go where my sister is...I have to give the doll to my Mamma to take to her."
I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "She has gone to be with Jesus. My Daddy says that Mama is going to have to go be with her."
My heart nearly stopped beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell Mama not to go yet. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store". Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to.
He pulled out some pictures he had taken at the front of the store. He said "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she don't ever forget me. I love my Mama so very much and I wish she did not have to leave me. But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister."
I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet. While he was not looking, I reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills. I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?"
He grew excited and said "Yes, I just know it has to be enough".
So I slipped my money in with his, and we began to count it. Of course it was plenty for the doll.
He softly said, "Thank you, Jesus, for giving me enough money." Then the boy said "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll, so Mama can take it with her, to give to my sister. And He heard my prayer. I wanted to ask Him for enough to buy my Mama a white rose, but I didn't ask Him, but He gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Mama. She loves white roses so very, very much".
In a few minutes the aunt came back, and I wheeled my cart away. I could not keep from thinking about the little boy as I finished my shopping in a totally different spirit than when I had started. And I kept remembering a story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier, about a drunk driver hitting a car and killing a little girl and leaving the Mother in serious condition. The family was deciding on whether to remove the life support. Now surely this little boy did not belong with that story.
Two days later, I read in the paper where the family had disconnected the life support and the young woman had died. I could not forget the little boy, and just kept wondering if the two were somehow connected. Later that day, I could not help myself and I went out and bought some white roses and took them to the funeral home, where the young woman was.
And there she was, holding a lovely white rose, the beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store.
I left there in tears, my life changed forever. The love that little boy had for his little sister and his mother was overwhelming. And in a split second a drunk driver had ripped the life of that little boy to pieces.
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Post by Kimmy on Jun 2, 2009 8:14:19 GMT
The End and the Beginning
As time draws near, get ready for anything The end will come in summer, winter, fall or spring. For when it'll end, Your new life will begin. And when it comes your priorities better be straight, Because after all you handle your own fate. Take life one day at a time. Give it to the Lord and everything will be fine. Be in control of your life and you'll be surprised Because believe it or not you're in your Father's eyes.
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Post by Kimmy on Jun 3, 2009 9:07:00 GMT
The Flowers in the Valley
At the birth of my fourth child the doctors told me to take him home and love him because we did not know how long we would have him. The doctors could not tell me what was wrong with my precious little Robert. But I had faith in a loving God and would accept whatever time he would give me with my son. So I took him home and loved him. We settled in at home with heart monitors and visits from home nurses and life was gracious, because we counted every day that we had Robert with us. I tried very hard to make things get back to normal for the rest of my children so things went back like before. I started baby sitting my best friends three children. My best friend had a son about the same age as Robert. Josh was healthy beautiful baby. Two months went by and Robert was still very ill, but Josh kept him company and we were happy. Four days before Christmas all of the kids were home for the holidays and we were babysitting my friends kids while she went to work.
After checking in on Robert and reseting his monitor for the day I checked on Josh. But Josh was not breathing. My world fell apart. I dont remember much of the day at least not in any order. It's such a blur. The ambulance. Crying in the yard while my husband holding me. And the look on the kids faces standing at the window of their room. And my friends face at the hospital as they told her that her son had died of SIDS. How could this have happened. We watched for Robert to die because that is what they told me would happen. I was consumed by the guilt that the wrong child had been taken. We moved from the house because I could not bear to live there any more. Months went by and the depression deepened. Even after the autopsy and the doctors telling us that Josh died of SIDS and there was nothing anyone could have done, I still had a guilt to deep to bear. Why had my child lived and hers died.
One day while the kids were in school I couldn't stand the quiet any more. I paced the house like a caged animal. So many thoughts ran through my head. Like standing in a croud of screaming people and trying to hear one person talk. I just knew I couldn't live like this anymore. I wanted to die.
...
The teachings of my childhood were coming back to me in my hour of need. I knew I needed help. So I drove myself to the local county mental health organization. I sat in a hallway with the clipboard in my hand, crying so hard I couldn't see the form I was to fill out. I didn't want to live this life any more, but I didnt want to die.
Then from down the hall an elderly woman came and sat beside me. She just sat and watched me cry for a while. She didnt try to comfort me, she just sat there quietly. And then after a while she spoke and those words are with me still to this day. She said "I know that you must be hurting so badly. But while you are in this valley don't forget to stop and smell those flowers. Because on the mountain that's up ahead, flowers don't grow and you'll miss it."
For a moment I was confused and a little irritated that this woman wanted to tell me something that made so little sense. But then she explained that on a mountain top there are no flowers that bloom. Flowers only grow in valleys, and God gives us valleys in the hopes that we will slow down and smell them. And enjoy the little things that He has given us. God does not always give us big blessings so sometimes He has to slow us down in a valley so that we can see them.
I never saw that little lady again, but her words are with me still today, seven years later. Little Robert just made it to second grade and he is as healthy as the Lord will let him be. But he is my angel and God's miracle. My life has not been a blessed one, and I have had many, many deep valleys since that day in the hallway with that lady. Some valleys even deeper than that one. But I did remember her words and I did stop and smell the flowers. Because they do have a sweet sweet smell. Praise God that I have the rest of my life with my precious children. Growing strong in the Lord every day and I will have eternity with Josh in heaven. God gave me a precious gift that day. A deeper faith. And a deeper love for my children and the timethat I have with them.
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Post by banger on Jun 3, 2009 17:19:52 GMT
A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco. “Mom and Dad, I’m coming home, but I’ve a favor to ask. I have a friend I’d like to bring home with me.” “Sure,” they replied, “we’d love to meet him.” “There’s something you should know the son continued, “he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mine and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us.” “I’m sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live.” “No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us.” “Son,” said the father, “you don’t know what you’re asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can’t let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He’ll find a way to live on his own.” At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn’t know, their son had only one arm and one leg. The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to Love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don’t like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren’t as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are. Thankfully, there’s someone who won’t treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are. Tonight, before you tuck yourself in for the night, say a little prayer that God will give you the strength you need to accept people as they are, and to help us all be more understanding of those who are different from us!!! There’s a miracle called Friendship that dwells in the heart you don’t know how it happens or when it gets started but you know the special lift It always brings And you realize that Friendship Is God’s most precious gift! Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed they lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.
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Post by Kimmy on Jun 4, 2009 8:13:18 GMT
GIVE ME THE SIMPLE LIFE
Satan called a worldwide convention. In his opening address to his evil angels, he said, "We can't keep the Christians from going to church.
We can't keep then from reading their Bibles & knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from conservative values. But we can do something else. We can keep them from forming an intimate, abiding experience in Christ.
If they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken. So let them go to church, let them have their conservative lifestyles, but steal their time, so they can't gain that experience in Jesus Christ. This is what I want you to do, angels. Distract them from gaining hold of their Savior & maintaining that vital connection throughout their day."
"How shall we do this?", shouted his angels.
"Keep them busy in the non-essentials of life & invent unnumbered schemes to occupy their minds," he answered.
"Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, then, borrow, borrow, borrow. Convince the wives to go to work & the husbands to work 6 or 7 days a week,10-12 hrs. a day, so they can afford their lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their family fragments, soon, their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work."
"Overstimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still small voice. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive, to keep the TV, the VCR, & their CD's going constantly in their homes.
And see to it that every store & restaurant in the world plays music constantly. This will jam their minds & break that union with Christ."
"Fill their coffee tables with magazines & newspapers. Pound their minds with the news 24 hrs. a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards. Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, sweepstakes, mail order catalogues, & every kind of newsletter & promotional offering, free products, services, & false hopes."
"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted, disquieted & unprepared for the coming week. Don't let them go out in nature. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, concerts & movies instead. And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip & small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences & unsettled emotion."
"Let them be involved in soul-winning. But crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Christ. Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health & family unity for the good of the cause."
It was quite a convention in the end. And the evil angels went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere to get busy, busy, busy & rush here & there.
Has the devil been successful at his scheme? You be the judge.
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