Love IS

LOVE is giving with no thought of getting.  It is tenderness enfolding with strength to protect.  It is forgiveness without further thought of the thing forgiven.  It is understanding of the thing forgiven.  It is understanding of human weakness, with knowledge of the true man shining through.  It is quiet in the midst of turmoil.  It is trust in God with no thought of self.  It is the one altogether lovely, the light in the mother's eyes, the glory in the sacrifice, the quiet assurance of protection.

It is in the expectation of our Father's promise coming true.  It is the refusal to see anything but good in our fellow man.  It is the glory that comes with selflessness and the power that comes with assurance of the Father's love for his Children.  It is the voice that says "no"to our brother, though "yes"might be more easily said.  It is resistance to the world's lust and greed, thus becoming a positive law of annihilation to error.

LOVE  . . . the one thing no one can take from us . . . the one thing we can give constantly and become increasingly rich in the giving.  Love can take no offense, for it cannot know that which it does not of itself conceive.  It cannot hurt or be hurt, for it is the purest reflection of God.  It is the one eternal, indestructible force for good.  It is the will of God, preparing, planning, proposing always what is best for all His universe.

There was this Christian lady that had to do a lot of traveling for her business so she did a lot of flying. But flying made her nervous so she always took her Bible along with her to read and it helped relax her.

One time she was sitting next to a man. When he saw her pull out her Bible he gave a little chuckle and went back to what he was doing. After a while he turned to her and asked "You don't really believe all that stuff in there do you?"

The lady replied "Of course I do. It is the Bible, God's word."

He said "Well what about that guy that was swallowed by that whale?

She replied "Oh, Jonah. Yes, I believe that, it is in the Bible."

He asked "Well, how do you suppose he survived all that time inside the whale?"

The lady said "Well I don't really know I guess when I get to heaven I will ask him."

"What if he isn't in heaven?" the man asked sarcastically.

"Then you can ask him." Replied the lady.

Some Gems from our Mail Box

Cultivate your own capabilities, your own style. Appreciate the members of your family for who they are, even though their outlook or style may be miles different from yours. Rabbits don't fly. Eagles don't swim. Ducks look funny trying to climb. Squirrels don't have feathers. Stop comparing. There's plenty of room in the forest.

Charles Swindoll

......When Looking For Faults, Use A Mirror, Not A Telescope......

Sometimes you struggle so hard to find the right words to say. When all along the only thing you ever needed to say was "I love you."

Children seldom misquote you. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said.

Unknown

DROP A PEBBLE in the water: just a splash, and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center, flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling where the end is going to be.

Drop a pebble in the water: in a minute you forget,
But there's little waves a-flowing, and there's ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing to a great big wave have grown;
You've disturbed a mighty river just by dropping in a stone.

Drop an unkind word, or careless: in a minute it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, from the center as they go,
And there is no way to stop them, once you've started them to flow.

Drop an unkind word, or careless: in a minute you forget;
But there's little waves a-flowing, and there's ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart a mighty wave of tears you've stirred,
And disturbed a life was happy ere you dropped that unkind word.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: just a flash and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort on each splashing, dashing wave
Till you wouldn't believe the volume of the one kind word you gave.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: in a minute you forget;
But there's gladness still a-swelling, and there's joy circling yet,
And you've rolled a wave of comfort whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water just by dropping one kind word.

Author Unknown

People are like stained - glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.

There once was an oyster
Whose story I'll tell -
He found that some sand
was inside his shell.
It was only a grain,
But it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings
Although they're so plain.
~
Now, did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?
Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea
Should give him protection?
~
No - he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it.
So the years rolled around,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny - stew.
~
And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.
Now the tale has a moral;
For isn't it grand
What an oyster can do
With a small grain of sand?
~
What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.
... Author Unknown

Beautiful young people are acts of nature,
But beautiful old people are works of art.

New Insight into an Old Adage - -

Keep your ear to the ground,
Your nose to the grindstone,
and your shoulder to the wheel...
and you will have round shoulders,
a flat nose and dirt in your ears.

Heard the one about the Praying Lady?

It seems there was a Christian lady who lived next door to an atheist.

Everyday, when the lady prayed, the atheist guy could hear her.

He thought to himself, "She sure is crazy, praying all the time like that. Doesn't she know there isn't a God?"

Many times while she was praying, he would go to her house and harass her, saying "Lady, why do you pray all the time? Don't you know there is no God?" 

But she kept on praying.

One day, she ran out of groceries.

As usual, she was praying to the Lord explaining her situation and thanking Him for what He was gonna do.

AS USUAL, the atheist heard her praying and thought to himself. "Humph . . .  I'll fix her."

He went to the grocery store, bought a whole bunch of groceries, took them to her house, dropped them off on the front porch, rang the doorbell and then hid in the bushes to see what she would do.

When she opened the door and saw the groceries, she began to praise the Lord with all her heart,  jumping, singing and shoutin'  everywhere!

The atheist then jumped out of the bushes and told her, "You crazy ol' lady, God didn't buy you those groceries, I bought those groceries!"

Well, she broke out and started running down the street, shouting and praising the Lord.

When he finally caught her, he asked what her problem was . . . She said, "Well, of course I knew the Lord would provide me with some groceries, but I didn't know he was gonna make the devil pay for them!"

 

this is not new, it's been around the WWW for awhile, but it always touches my heart.

Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the piano, a mother took the small boy to a concert featuring a renowned pianist. After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her. Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonder of the concert hall, the little boy rose and explored his way through a door marked 'NO ADMITTANCE'.

When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that her son was missing. The curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive grand piano on stage. In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear. "Don't quit. Keep playing."Then, leaning over, the great pianist reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obligatio. Together, the old master and the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was mesmerized.

That's the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren't exactly graceful flowing music. But with the hand of the Master, our life's work truly can be beautiful. Next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You can hear His whispering in your ear. "Don't quit. Keep playing."Feel His loving arms around you. Know that His strong hands are playing the concerto of your life.

GOD DOESN'T CALL THE EQUIPPED, HE EQUIPS THE CALLED. He'll always be there to love and guide you on to great things. Keep the faith, and keep playing. Together, you and the Master will make beautiful music

Thanks, Cosmos - for another of your wonderfully encouraging visits. You never fail to give us something uplifting to think about.

When you've made your plans and they've gone awry
When you've tried your best and there's no more try
When you've failed yourself and you don't know why...
Start over.

When you've told your friends what you plan to do
When you've trusted them and they didn't come through
And now you're all alone and it's up to you...
Start over.

When you've failed your kids and they're grown and gone
When you've done your best but it's turned out wrong
And now your grandchildren have come along...
Start over.

When you've prayed to God so you'll know His will
When you've prayed and prayed and you don't know still
When you want to stop cause you've had your fill...
Start over.

When you think you're finished and want to quit
When you've bottomed out in life's deepest pit
When you've tried and tried to get out of it...
Start over.

When the year has been long and successes few
When December comes and you're feeling blue
God gives a January just for you...
Start over.

Starting over means "Victories Won"
Starting over means "A Race Well Run"
Starting over means "God's Will Done"
Don't just sit there...
START OVER.

This little ditty came on my Birthday. I know it was only coincidence it arrived in my mail box just in time to help me celebrate the passage of yet another year, but I did go out and buy a Purple HAT just in case. *LOL*

A LOOK IN THE MIRROR

 

Age 8 -Looks at herself and sees herself as "Cinderella/Sleeping Beauty"

Age 15 -Looks at herself and sees herself as "a fat Cinderella/Sleeping Beauty with PMS and pimples"(i.e. UGLY - refuses to go out looking like this)

Age 20 - Looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin/too short/too tall/too straight/too curly"- but decides she's going anyway

Age 30 - Looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin/too short/too tall/too straight/too curly"but too busy to fix it, so she goes anyway

Age 40 - Looks at herself and sees "too fat/too thin/too short/too tall/too straight/too curly"but says: "At least I'm clean", and goes anyway

Age 50 - Looks at herself and sees "I am"and goes wherever she wants to

Age 60 - Looks at herself and reminds herself of all the people who can't even see themselves in the mirror anymore. Goes out and conquers the world

Age 70 - Looks at herself and sees "wisdom, laughter and ability", goes out and enjoys life

Age 80 - Doesn't bother to look, just puts on a purple hat and goes out to have some fun!

I hope you have a bright and beautiful day because you are bright and beautiful in your own special way!!

A Christmas Story that has probably been around the web for awhile. I know it has been around the world. I received it from my dear friend Cosmos, in South Africa; but it tells of a family in the USA, in southern Indiana. No matter.... it brings a warm glow to my heart and a tear to my eye. Some people still know how to keep Christmas!

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 ranged 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 dollars 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 home-made 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 whom ever 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 another 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, no nothing, 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 wasn't 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 boys 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 Joe. 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 and 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 wouldn't wake up before I managed to get home and 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 couldn't 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 full-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 were candy and nuts and 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. And 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. And 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.

It's just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree.  No name, no identification, no inscription.  It has  peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. 

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas... Oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it - overspending...the frantic running around at the last minute to  get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma... the  gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything  else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth.  I reached for something special just  for Mike.  The inspiration came in an unusual way.  Our son Kevin,  who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school  he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church.

These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp  contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and  sparkling new wrestling shoes.  As the  match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford.  Well, we ended up  walloping them.  We took every weight class.  And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters  with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won,"he said.  "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them."Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse.  That's when the idea for his present came.  That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.  On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I  had done and that this was his gift from me.

His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition... one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had  burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.  The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas.  It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there.  You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer.  When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up.  But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more.  Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.  May we all remember Christ, who is the real reason for this season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.

November 1st dawned all soft and misty. The sky, toward the hills, welcomed the sun with streaks of softest pink and lavender. Oh, lovely, lovely month between autumn and winter, I welcome you with open heart.

However, I decided to include it here for my dear friends around the world who may not have an opportunity to enjoy Ann Landers, but who will certainly appreciate this prayer:

Please God,

My children are grown now, and I have wonderful grandchildren. I love them all, but please, God, let me remember that I have lived, loved and enjoyed this life. Do not let me take away from their enjoyment by complaining about every ache and pain. I have earned them all.

Please keep me from mentioning my swollen joints, stiff knees, poor eyesight and anything else that isn't as good as it once was. Let me remember that I have enjoyed a full and wonderful life, and have been blessed in so many ways. Now is not the time for me to be complaining.

Please let my mouth be closed while my ears are open to hear the fun they are having. Let me remember that I am still setting an example for them, and that if I keep quiet, they will forever think that I never had a single ache or pain in my life, and that I miraculously escaped the ills of old age.

They will, in later years, remember me with pleasure and say, "I wish I had her genes. She never had anything wrong with her!"

That, dear Lord, will be the best legacy I can leave them.

Amen!

Write to Ann Landers, Creators Syndicate, 5777 W. Century Blvd., Suite 700, LA, CA 90045)

The Trouble Tree

 

The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just finished rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start.

While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence. On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.

After opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles, and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward, he walked me to my car. We passed the tree, and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.

"Oh, that's my trouble tree,"he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning, I pick them up again.""Funny thing is,"he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.

October 12th! Where has the year gone? !? The older I get, the more the years feel like a raging river, rolling past me in rapid succession. Slowing them down to the trickle of passing time in my youth would be the one great desire of my soul. Since that is an impossibility - I have determined the only cure for aging and time flowing by me like water must be to think like a child again. Most likely why I found the following ditty so very, very appealing. *laugh*

A kindergarten teacher was observing her class
drawing pictures. She would occasionally walk around
to see each child's artwork. As she came to one little girl
who was working diligently, she asked, "what are you drawing?"

The girl replied, "I'm drawing God."

The teacher paused and said, "But no one knows what God looks like."

Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing the
girl replied, "They will in a minute."

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