The Day After Christmas

The Arrival by Max Lucado

God had entered the world as a baby.

Yet, were someone to chance upon the sheep stable on the outskirts of Bethlehem that morning, what a peculiar scene they would behold.

The stable stinks like all stables do. The stench of urine, dung, and sheep reeks pungently in the air. The ground is hard, the hay scarce. Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and a mouse scurries across the dirt floor.

A more lowly place of birth could not exist.

Off to one side sit a group of shepherds. They sit silently on the floor; perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement. Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to hear him--so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.

Near the young mother sits the weary father. If anyone is dozing, he is. He can't remember the last time he sat down. And now that the excitement has subsided a bit, now that Mary and the baby are comfortable, he leans against the wall of the stable and feels his eyes grow heavy. He still hasn't figured it all out. The mystery of the event puzzles him. But he hasn't the energy to wrestle with the questions. What's important is that the baby is fine and that Mary is safe. As sleep comes he remembers the name the angel told him to use ... Jesus. "We will call him Jesus."

Wide awake is Mary. My, how young she looks! Her head rests on the soft leather of Joseph's saddle. The pain has been eclipsed by wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a smelly stable. She can't take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knows she is holding God. So this is he. She remembers the words of the angel. "His kingdom will never end." (Luke 1:33)

He looks like anything but a king. His face is prunish and red. His cry, though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of a baby. And he is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being.

Majesty in the midst of the mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a stable, through the womb of a teenager and in the presence of a carpenter.

She touches the face of the infant-God. How long was your journey!

This baby had overlooked the universe. These rags keeping him warm were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And worshiping angels had been replaced with kind but bewildered shepherds.

Meanwhile, the city hums. The merchants are unaware that God has visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he had just sent God into the cold. And the people would scoff at anyone who told them the Messiah lay in the arms of a teenager on the outskirts of their village. They were all too busy to consider the possibility.

Those who missed His Majesty's arrival that night missed it not because of evil acts or malice; no, they missed it because they simply weren't looking.

Little has changed in the last two thousand years, has it?

From God Came Near© (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006) Max Lucado

"An Angel's Story" by Max Lucado

http://maxlucado.com/pdf/angel.story.short.pdf

THE NECKLACE

The cheerful little girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them, a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.

'Oh mommy please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?' Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face. 'A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you ca n save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma.'

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere, Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night as he finished the story, he asked Jenny, 'Do you love me?' 'Oh yes, daddy. You know that I love you.' 'Then give me your pearls.' 'Oh, daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess, the white horse from my collection, the one with the pink tail. Remember, daddy? The one you gave me. She's my very favorite.' 'That's okay, Honey, daddy loves you. Good night.' And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, 'Do you love me?' 'Daddy, you know I love you.' 'Then give me your pearls.' 'Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll . The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper.' 'That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you.'And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. 'What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?' Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace . With a little quiver, she finally said, 'Here, daddy; this is for you.'

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.

He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her the genuine treasure.

So it is, with our Heavenly Father. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasures. God will never take away something without giving you something better in its place.

Yesterday -- but not today!

I was poor yesterday, but not today;

For Jesus came this morning

And took the poor away;

And he left the legacy

He promised long ago.

So peace and joy and love

Through all my being flow.

I was tired yesterday, but not today.

I could run and not be weary,

This blessed way;

For I have his strength to stay me,

With his might my feet are shod.

I can find the resting places

In the promises of God.

A servant yesterday, a child today,

A loved one of his household,

Bearing his name alway.

Do you know this blessed difference?

Do you long for this better way?

He will come to you as he came to me

With the joy of an endless day.

Hmm, very thought provoking !!!!

This is a good one. Turn up your sound and watch the end closely:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TG4fe9GlWS8

Duct Tape or Nail ??

A man dies and goes to heaven.

St. Peter meets him at the Pearly Gates and says, 'Here's how it works. You need 100 points to make it into heaven. You tell me all the good things you've done, and I give you a certain number of points for each item, depending on how good it was. When you reach 100 points, you get in.'

'Okay,' the man says, 'I was married to the same woman for 50 years and never cheated on her, even in my heart.' 'That's wonderful,' says St.Peter, 'that's worth two points!' 'Two points?!'

He says. 'Well, I attended church all my life and supported its ministry with my tithe and service.' 'Terrific!' says St.Peter.. 'That's certainly worth a point.' 'One point!?!!'

'I started a soup kitchen in my city and worked in a shelter for homeless veterans.' 'Fantastic, that's good for two more points,' he says. ' Two points!?!!

'Exasperated, the man cries. 'At this rate the only way I'll get into heaven is by the grace of God.' '

Bingo ! 100 points ! Come on in!'

We often try to fix problems with WD-40 and duct tape. God did it with a nail.

AMEN...

The Second Coming

You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any you've ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets? You don't know, but you want to know….

So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky. Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching the clouds. And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.

It’s as if the sky were a curtain -- the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From every hue ever seen and a million more never seen, riding on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of the sky.

North. South. East. West.

Thousands of silvery wings rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear the cherubim and seraphim chanting, Holy, holy, holy…. The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship.

Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn, the entire world turns and there He is. Jesus

Through waves of light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration:

I am the Alpha and the Omega. The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you is a Figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that mattered, matters no more....

For Christ has come.

"The Funeral"

I "borrowed" this from my Aunt Jenny Wren's websit ( http://thecastingofpearls96691.yuku.com/)

As a young minister in Kentucky, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave-side service for a homeless man, who had no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a new cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be buried there. I was not familiar with the backwoods area, and I soon became lost.

Being a typical man, I did not stop to ask for directions. I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the open grave, but the hearse was nowhere in sight. The digging crew was eating lunch.

I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave. There I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long, as I told them that this was the proper thing to do.

The workers gathered around the grave and stood silently, as I began to pour out my heart and soul. As I preached about 'looking forward to a brighter tomorrow' and 'the glory that is to come,' the workers began to say 'Amen,' 'Praise the Lord,' and 'Glory!'

The fervor of these men truly inspired me; so, I preached and I preached like I had never preached before, all the way from Genesis to Revelations.

I finally closed the lengthy service with a prayer, thanked the men, and walked to my car. As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I heard one of the workers say to another:

'I ain't NEVER seen nothin' like that before, and I've been puttin' in septic tanks for thirty years!'

Hmmm, childproof testing!!

I was testing the children

In my Sunday school class

To see if they understood the concept

Of getting to heaven.

I asked them, 'If I sold my house and my car,

Had a big garage sale

And gave all my money

To the church,

Would that get me into Heaven?'

'NO!' the children answered.

'If I cleaned the church every day, and

Mowed the yard,

And kept everything neat and tidy,

Would that get me into Heaven?'

Again, the answer was, 'NO!'

By now I was starting to smile.

Hey, this was fun! '

Well, then, if I was kind to animals

And gave candy

To all the children,

And loved my husband,

Would that get me into Heaven?', I asked them again.

Again, they all answered, 'NO!'

I was just bursting with pride for them.

'Well,' I continued,

'then how can I get into Heaven?'

A five-year-old boy shouted out,

'YOU GOTTA BE DEAD.'

A Special Thought for Special People

Love this story.... I hope I think of it every time I have a cup of tea.........

There was a couple who took a trip to England to shop in a beautiful antique store to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. They both liked antiques and pottery, and especially teacups. Spotting an exceptional cup, they asked "May we see that? We've never seen a cup quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke, "You don't understand. I have not always been a teacup. There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay. My master took me and rolled me, pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out, "Don't do that." "I don't like it!" "Let me alone," but he only smiled, and gently said; "Not yet!"

Then: WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. "Stop it ! I'm ! getting so dizzy! I'm going to be sick!", I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, quietly; 'Not yet.' He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself and then......

Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door." Help! Get me out of here!" I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side, 'Not yet'. When I thought I couldn't bear it another minute, the door opened. He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool.

Oh, that felt so good! "Ah, this is much better," I thought. But, after I cooled he picked me up and he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Oh, please; Stop it, Stop it!! I cried. He only shook his head and said. 'Not yet!'.

Then suddenly he put me back in to the oven. Only it was not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried I was convinced I would never make it. I was ready to give up.

Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf, where I cooled and waited and waited, wondering "What's he going to do to me next?" An hour later he handed me a mirror and said 'Look at yourself.' And I did. I said, 'That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful!"

Quietly he spoke: "I want you to remember, then,' he said, 'I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have had any color in your life. If I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't have survived for long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you."

The moral of this story is this: God knows what He's doing for each of us He is the potter, and we are His clay. He will mold us and make us, and expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect will. So when life seems hard, and you are being pounded and patted and pushed almost beyond endurance; when your world seems to be spinning out of control; when you feel like you are in a fiery furnace of trials; when life seems to "stink", try this....Brew a cup of your favorite tea in your prettiest tea cup, sit down and think on this story and then, have a little talk with the Potter.

"5 YEAR OLD CHILD LOGIC . . . "

"So, I was talking to this little girl, Catherine, the daughter of some friends, and she said she wanted to be President some day. Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there with us.

I asked Catherine - 'If you were President what would be the first thing you would do?' Catherine replied - 'I would give houses to all the homeless people.' 'Wow - what a worthy goal you have there, Catherine.', I told her.

'You don't have to wait until you're President to help the homeless, you can come over to my house and clean up all the dog poop in my back yard and I will pay you $5 dollars. Then we can go over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $5 dollars to use toward a new house.'

Catherine (who was about 5) thought that over for a second, while her mom looked at me seething, and Catherine replied, 'Why doesn't the homeless guy come over and clean up the dog poop and you can just pay him the $5 dollars?'

And I said, 'Welcome to the Republican Party'."

WHEN THE MUSIC STOPPED

For those who are unaware, at a military theater, the National Anthem is played before every movie.

From a Chaplain in Iraq :

I recently attended a showing of "Superman 3," here at LSA Anaconda. We have a large auditorium we use for movies, as well as memorial services and other large gatherings.

As is the custom back in the States, we stood and snapped to attention when the National Anthem began before the main feature. All was going as planned until about three-quarters of the way through The National Anthem the music stopped. Now, what would happen if this occurred with 1,000 18-22 year-olds back in the States? I imagine there would be hoots, catcalls, laughter, a few rude comments; and everyone would sit down and call for a movie. Of course, that is, if they had stood for the National Anthem in the first place.

Here, the 1,000 Soldiers continued to stand at att ention, eyes fixed forward. The music started again. The Soldiers continued to quietly stand at attention. And again, at the same point, the music stopped. What would you expect to happen? Even here I would imagine laughter, as everyone finally sat down and expected the movie to start. But here, you could have heard a pin drop. Every Soldier continued to stand at attention. Suddenly there was a lone voice, then a dozen, and quickly the room was filled with the voices of a thousand soldiers, finishing where the recording left off:

"And the rockets red glare,

The bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night

That our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that star-spangled

banner yet wave,

O'er the land of the free

and the home of the brave"

It was the most inspiring moment I have had here in Iraq. I wanted you to know what kind of Soldiers are serving you here. Remember them as they fight for you! Pass this along as a reminder to others to be ever in prayer for all our soldiers serving us here at home and abroad. For many have already paid the ultimate price.

Written by Chaplain Jim Higgins
LSA Anaconda is at the Balad Airport in Iraq , north of Bagdad

*I am very Proud to be an American!!!*

YOU AIN'T GONNA LIKE LOSING !!

Most everyone has a different opinion on the war and our current President George Bush. But, this article makes a lot of sense, and I hope you will take 2 minutes and read it, and give it some careful thought. I have never seen the 'situation' expressed any better in words!

Recently I was talking to a friend about the upcoming election and the candidates. As we ended our discussion he said 'the only decision you have to make is who you want sitting in that seat in the White House when - not if - when we get hit again and millions of American lives are put at risk!'

President Bush did make a bad mistake in the war on terrorism. But the mistake was not his decision to go to war in Iraq . Bush's mistake came in his belief that this country is the same one his father fought for in WWII.

It is not.

Back then, they had just come out of a vicious depression. The country was steeled by the hardship of that depression, but they still believed fervently in this country. They knew that the people had elected their leaders, so it was the people's duty to back those leaders.

Therefore, when the war broke out the people came together, rallied behind, and stuck with their leaders, whether they had voted for them or not, or whether the war was going badly or not. And war was just as distasteful and the anguish just as great then as it is today.

Often there were more casualties in one day in WWII than we have had in the entire Iraq war. But that did not matter. The people stuck with the President because it was their patriotic duty. Americans put aside their differences in WWII and worked together to win that war.
Everyone from every strata of society, from young to old pitched in. Small children pulled little wagons around to gather scrap metal for the war effort. Grade school students saved their pennies to buy stamps for war bonds to help the effort.

Men who were too old or medically 4F lied about their age or condition trying their best to join the military. Women doubled their work to keep things going at home. Harsh rationing of everything from gasoline to soap, to butter was imposed, yet there was very little complaining.
You never heard prominent people on the radio belittling the President.

Interestingly enough in those days there were no fat cat actors and entertainers who ran off to visit and fawn over dictators of hostile countries and complain to them about our President. Instead, they made upbeat films and entertained our troops to help the troops' morale. And a bunch even enlisted.

And imagine this: Teachers in schools actually started the day off with a Pledge of Allegiance, and with prayers for our country and our troops!

Back then, no newspaper would have dared point out certain weak spots in our cities where bombs could be set off to cause the maximum damage. No newspaper would have dared complain about what we were doing to catch spies. A newspaper would have been laughed out of existence if it had complained that German or Japanese soldiers were being 'tortured' by being forced to wear women's underwear, or subjected to interrogation by a woman, or being scared by a dog or did not have air conditioning.

There were a lot of things different back then. We were not subjected to a constant bombardment of pornography, perversion and promiscuity in movies or on radio. We did not have legions of crack heads, dope pushers and armed gangs roaming our streets.

No, President Bush did not make a mistake in his handling of terrorism. He made the mistake of believing that we still had the courage and fortitude of our fathers. He believed that this was still the country that our fathers fought so dearly to preserve.

It is not the same country.

It is now a cross between Sodom and Gomorrah and the land of Oz. We did unite for a short while after 9/11, but our attitude changed when we found out that defending our country would require some sacrifices. We are in great danger. The terrorists are fanatic Muslims. They believe that it is okay, even their duty, to kill anyone who will not convert to Islam.

It has been estimated that about one third or over three hundred million Muslims are sympathetic to the terrorists cause... Hitler and Tojo combined did not have nearly that many potential recruits. So.... We either win it - or lose it - and you ain't gonna like losing.

America is not at war. The military is at war. America is at the mall.

Author unknown

JOHN 3:16

In the city of Chicago, one cold-dark night, a blizzard was setting in. A little boy was selling newspapers on the corner; the people were in and out of the the cold. The little boy was so cold that he wasn't trying to sell many papers.

He walked up to a policeman and said, "Mister, you wouldn't happen to know where a poor boy could find a warm place to sleep tonight, would you? You see, I sleep in a box up around the corner there and down the alley and it's awful cold in there,of a night. Sure would be nice to have a warm place to stay."

The policeman looked down at the little boy and said, "You go down the street to that big white house and you knock on the door. When they come out the door you just say John 3:16 and they will let you in."

So he did, he walked up the steps to the door, and knocked on the door and a lady answered. He looked up and said, "John 3:16." The lady said, "Come on in, Son." She took him in and sat him down in a split bottom rocker in front of a great big old fireplace and she went off. He sat there for a while, and thought to himself, "John 3:16... I don't understand it, but it sure makes a cold boy warm."

Later she came back and asked him, "Are you hungry?" He said, "Well, just a little. I haven't eaten in a couple of days and I guess I could stand a little bit of food." The lady took him in the kitchen and sat him down to a table full of wonderful food. He ate and ate until he couldn't eat anymore. Then he thought to himself, "John 3:16... Boy, I sure don't understand it, but it sure makes a hungry boy full."

She took him upstairs to a bathroom to a huge bathtub filled with warm water and he sat there and soaked for a while. As he soaked, he thought to himself, "John 3:16... I sure don't understand it, but it sure makes a dirty boy clean.

You know, I've not had a bath, a real bath, in my whole life. The only bath I ever had was when I stood in front of that old fire hydrant as they flushed it out."

The lady came in and got him, and took him to a room and tucked him into a big old feather bed and pulled the covers up around his neck and kissed him goodnight and turned out the lights. As he laid in the darkness and looked out the window at the snow coming down on that cold night he thought to himself, "John 3:16... I don't understand it, but it sure makes a tired boy rested."

The next morning she came back up and took him down again to that same big table full of food. After he ate she took him back to that same big old split bottom rocker in front of the fireplace and she took a big old Bible and sat down in front of him and she looked up at him and she asked, "Do you understand John 3:16," and she began to explain to him about Jesus. Right there in front of that big old fireplace he gave his heart and life to Jesus. He sat there and thought, "John 3:16. I don't understand it, but it sure makes a lost boy feel safe."

You know, I have to confess I don't understand it either, how God would be willing to send His Son to die for me, and how Jesus would agree to do such a thing. I don't understand it either, but it sure does make life worth living.

Author Unknown

WHAT IF GOD HAD AN ANSWERING MACHINE?

I have learned to live with answering machines as a necessary part of modernization. But I've often wondered --- what if God decided to install an answering machine? Imagine praying, then hearing this:

"Thank you for calling My Father's House. Please press 1 for a request. Press 2 for a thanksgiving. Press 3 to complain. For all other inquiries, press 4."

So I press 1 and I hear: "We're sorry. Due to heavier than expected volume we are unable to make a connection with God; please try again later. Your business is important to us."

What if God used the familiar excuse: "All of the angels are helping other souls right now. Please stay on the line and your call will be answered in the order it was received."

Can you imagine these kinds of recorded responses as you call on God in prayer:

"To find out how many angels dance on the head of a pin, press 4."

"If you'd like King David to sing a psalm for you, press 6."

"To find out if your relative is here , enter the date they departed and listen for the list that follows."

"To confirm your reservations at My Father's House, press the letters J-O-H-N, followed by the numbers 3-1-6."

"To find out what your pastor is doing at the moment, press 7."

"If you want to know what I think of American politics, don't press anything. Hang up and listen for laughter."

"For the answers to nagging questions about dinosaurs, the age of the earth, or where Noah's Ark is...wait till you get here!"

"Our computers indicate you've called once today, already. Please hang up immediately."

"This office is closed for the weekend. Please call Monday."

Thank God we can call on him anytime, and the line is never busy. God takes each call personally, and we'll never be put on "hold"!

Best of all, God often calls on us. Are you waiting for His call? If you listen carefully, you just might hear music in the background and God sing, "I just called to say 'I love you!' I just called to say how much I care..."

© Reverend Paul Kummer

WHAT DO ANGELS LOOK LIKE ?

Like the little old lady who returned your wallet yesterday.

Like the taxi driver who told you that your eyes light up the world, when you smile.

Like the small child who showed you the wonder in simple things.

Like the poor man who offered to share his lunch with you.

Like the rich man who showed you that it really is all possible, if only you believe.

Like the stranger who just happened to come along, when you had lost your way.

Like the friend who touched your heart, when you didn't think you had one.

Angels come in all sizes and shapes, all ages and skin types. Some with freckles, some with dimples, some with wrinkles, some without. They come disguised as friends, enemies teachers, students, lovers and fools. They don't take life too seriously, they travel light. They leave no forwarding address, they ask nothing in return.

They are hard to find when your eyes are closed, but when you choose to see, they are everywhere you look. So, open you eyes and count all your Angels -- for you are truly blessed!

Author Unknown

SHOES IN CHURCH !!

I showered and shaved....... ....... I adjusted my tie.

I got there and sat......... .... In a pew just in time.

Bowing my head in prayer...... ... As I closed my eyes.

I saw the shoe of the man next to me..... Touching my own. I sighed.

With plenty of room on either side...... I thought, "Why must our solestouch?"

It bothered me, his shoe touching mine....... But it didn't bother him much.

A prayer began: "Our Father"..... ......... I thought, "This man with

the shoes....................... has no pride.

They're dusty, worn, and scratched. Even worse, there are holes on the side!"

"Thank You for blessings," the prayer went on.

The shoe man said........ ...... a quiet "Amen."

I tried to focus on the prayer...... . But my thoughts were on his shoes

again.

Aren't we supposed to look our best. When walking through that door?

"Well, this certainly isn't it," I thought, glancing toward the floor.

Then the prayer was ended....... .... And the songs of praise began.

The shoe man was certainly loud...... Sounding proud as he sang.

His voice lifted the rafters..... ... His hands were raised high.

The Lord could surely hear.. The shoe man's voice from the sky.

It was time for the offering.... ... And what I threw in was steep.

I watched as the shoe man reached.... Into his pockets so deep.

I saw what was pulled out......... . What the shoe man put in.

Then I heard a soft "clink." as when silver hits tin.

The sermon really bored me.......... To tears, and that's no lie.

It was the same for the shoe man... For tears fell from his eyes.

At the end of the service..... . As is the custom here.

We must greet new visitors.. And show them all good cheer.

But I felt moved somehow..... ........ And wanted to meet the shoe man.

So after the closing prayer...... .. I reached over and shook his hand.

He was old and his skin was dark..... And his hair was truly a mess.

But I thanked him for coming...... ... For being our guest.

He said, "My names' Charlie..... ..... I'm glad to meet you, my friend."

There were tears in his eyes....... But he had a large, wide grin.

"Let me explain," he said........ . Wiping tears from his eyes.

"I've been coming here for months.... And you're the first to say 'Hi."

"I know that my appearance.. ......."Is not like all the rest.

"But I really do try......... ........" To always look my best."

"I always clean and polish my shoes.."Before my very long walk.

"But by the time I get here........ ."They're dirty and dusty, likechalk.

"My heart filled with pain........ .... and I swallowed to hide my tears.

As he continued to apologize... ...... For daring to sit so near..He said, "When I get here........ ..."I know I must look a sight.

"But I thought if I could touch you.."Then maybe our souls might unite."I was silent for a moment...... ...... Knowing whatever was said

Would pale in comparison.. . I spoke from my heart, not my head.

"Oh, you've touched me," I said......"And taught me, in part;

"That the best of any man......... ..."Is what is found in his heart.

"The rest, I thought,.... ......... ... This shoe man will never know.

Like just how thankful I really am... That his dirty old shoe touched mysoul

You are special to me and you have made a difference in my life.

I respect you, and truly cherish you.





Stop telling God how big your storm is. Instead,

tell the storm how big your God is!

"We make a Living by what we get;

we make a Life by what we give.God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you toit, He will bring you through it.

HELP !

Please help by logging in each day to these sites:

http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=3

Every living creature thanks you !!!

DIVIDING-UP THE NUTS !!

Just outside a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence. One day, two boys filled up a bucket with nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts.

"One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me," said one boy. Then they dropped several and those several rolled down toward the fence.

Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard something -- maybe voices -- from inside the cemetery.

He thought he better check it out and sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."

He just knew what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along.

"Come here quick," said the boy, "you won't believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls."

The man said, "Beat it kid, can't you see it's hard for me to walk." When the boy insisted though, the man slowly made his way to the cemetery. Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me..."

The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' the truth. Let's see if we can see the Lord." Shaking with fear, they both looked through the fence. Still they couldn't see anything.

The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord.

At last they heard, "One for you, one for me. That's all. Now let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done."

And guess what?? The old man made it back to town a full 5 minutes ahead of the boy on the bike !!!

WHY WOMEN SHOULD VOTE !

This is the story of our Grandmothers, and Great-grandmothers, as they lived only 90 years ago. It was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.

The women were innocent and defenseless. And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs, and their warden's blessing, went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of "obstructing sidewalk traffic."

They beat Lucy Burn, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air. They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.

Thus unfolded the "Night of Terror" on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote.

For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms. When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.

So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because--why, exactly?

We have carpool duties?

We have to get to work?

Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?

Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie "Iron Jawed Angels." It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have mysay. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.

All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.

My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. "One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie," she said. "What would those women think of the way I use--or don't use--my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn." The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her "all over again."

HBO released the movie on video and DVD. I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum. I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.

It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy.The doctor admonished the men: "Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity."

Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know. We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.

Author Unknown

A Cell Phone Warning !

This lady has changed her habit of how she lists her names on her mobile phone after her handbag was stolen. Her handbag, which contained her cell phone, credit card, wallet... etc... Was stolen.

20 minutes later when she called her hubby, from a pay phone telling him what had happened, hubby says 'I've just received your text asking about our Pin number and I replied a little while ago.'

When they rushed down to the bank, the bank staff told them all the money was already withdrawn. The thief had actually used the stolen cell phone to text 'hubby' in the contact list and got hold of the pin number. Within 20 minutes he had withdrawn all the money from their bank account.

Moral of the lesson:
Do not disclose the relationship between you and the people in your contact list. Avoid using names like Home, Honey, Hubby, Sweetheart, Dad, Mom, etc... And very importantly, when sensitive info is being asked through texts, CONFIRM by calling back.

Also, when you get a text from friends or family to meet them somewhere, be sure to call back to confirm that the message came from them. If you don't reach them, be very careful about going places to meet 'family and friends' who text you.

"AN ANGEL WALKED THE BEAT TONIGHT ON HIGHWAY 109"

A drunken man in an Oldsmobile

They said had run the light

That caused the six-car pileupon 109 that night.

When broken bodies lay about and blood was everywhere,

The sirens screamed out eulogies, for death was in the air.

A mother, trapped inside her car, was heard above the noise,

Her plaintive plea near split the air, 'Oh, God, please spare my boys!'

She fought to loose her pinned hands, she struggled to get free,

But mangled metal held her fast in grim captivity.

Her frightened eyes then focused on where the back seat once had been,

But all she saw was broken glass and two children's seats crushed in.

Her twins were nowhere to be seen, she did not hear them cry,

And then she prayed they'd been thrown free, 'Oh, God, don't let them die!

Then firemen came and cut her loose, but when they searched the back,

They found therein no little boys, but the seat belts were intact.

They thought the woman had gone madand was traveling alone,

But when they turned to question her, they discovered she was gone.

Policemen saw her running wild and screaming above the noise

In beseeching supplication,'Please help me find my boys!

''They're four years old and wear blue shirts, their jeans are blue to match.

'One cop spoke up, 'They're in my car,and they don't have a scratch.

''They said their daddy put them there, and gave them each a cone,

'Then told them both to wait for Mom to come and take them home.'

'I've searched the area high and low, but I can't find their dad.

''He must have fled the scene, I guess, and that is very bad.

'The mother hugged the twins and said, while wiping at a tear,

'He could not flee the scene, you see,for he's been dead a year.

'The cop just looked confused and asked,'Now, how can that be true?

'The boys said, 'Mommy, Daddy came and left a kiss for you.

''He told us not to worry and that you would be all right, '

And then he put us in this car with the pretty, flashing light.

'We wanted him to stay with us, because we miss him so,

'But Mommy, he just hugged us tight and said he had to go.

''He said someday we'd understand and told us not to fuss,

'And he said to tell you, Mommy, 'He's watching over us.

'The mother knew without a doubtthat what they spoke was true,

For she recalled their dad's last words, ' I will watch over you.'

The firemen's notes could not explain the twisted, mangled car,

And how the three of them escapedwithout a single scar.

But on the cop's report was scribed,in print so very fine,

'An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.'

I AM A KEPT WOMEN !

You see, there were a few times when I thought I would

lose my mind, but GOD kept me sane. (Isa. 26:3)

There were times when I thought I could go no longer,
but the LORD kept me moving. (Gen 28:15)

At times, I've wanted to lash out at those whom I felt had

done me wrong, but the LORD kept my mouth shut. (Psa. 13)

Sometimes, I think the money just isn't enough,
but GOD has helped me to keep the lights on, the water on,

the car paid, the house paid, etc., (Matt. 6:25 -34)

When I thought I would fall, HE kept me up.
When I thought I was weak, HE kept me strong!

(I Pet. 5:7, Matt. 11:28-30)

I could go on and on and on, but I'm sure you hear me!

I'm blessed to be ' kept .'

Check It Out !!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AR4PQ30VkBk

It might be today !!!!!

When He Comes Again
Words and Music by:Rebecca J Peck

Verse:

When He came, He spent His first night on a bed of hay.
When He came, He left Heaven without wealth or fame.
Wrapped in rags, Christ had no sign of royalty. The truth of

who He really was the world could not see.

Chorus:

But when He comes again, On a cloud of majesty,

Every eye at last shall see, He is the great I am.

When He comes again, The host of Heaven with Him,

He'll bring to earth a kingdom without end . . . When He comes again!

Verse:

When He came, He was rejected by the ones He loved.
When He came, He drank freely from Death's bitter cup.

Betrayed and broken, Jesus hung in agony. The truth of

who He really was, the world could not see.

Chorus:

But when He comes again, On a cloud of majesty,

Every eye at last shall see, He is the great I am.

When He comes again, The host of Heaven with Him,

He'll bring to earth a kingdom without end . . . When He comes again!

Tag:

The hope of all the ages the everlasting Lord,

That baby boy from Bethlehem shall reign forever more!!

Chorus:
When He comes again, On a cloud of majesty,

Every eye at last shall see, He is the great I am.

When He comes again, The host of Heaven with Him,

He'll bring to earth a kingdom without end . . . When He comes again!

When he comes again!! Comes again!!!

REMEMBER THE LOVE

No one knew the pain, the emptiness . . . and it kept growing. Everyday -- in every room -- at every turn -- a remembrance of the loss. Each relic had its own degree of alienation and reality.

Dead! Gone! Life would never be the same!!

Daily I was dying. Memory had become an enemy that reminded me of the life I once had. Like a magnet my mind kept dragging me to a life that once was and would never be again.

One day, in remorse and pain, I murmured “take away the pain . . . take away the memories”. Suddenly there was a soft voice that said. “I can take the pain, but I will have to erase all the memories of the person you cared about. To remove the pain, I will have to remove the love.”
Remove the love . . . ?

It was then I understood for the first time. I had loved and been loved. To ask that the good times be removed from my memories would also remove the best part of my life. Worse than that, it would say that the one I cared about never existed. I could choose to focus on the loss or dwell on the love.

I chose love!

From that day I began to live again. Memories have become “rays of sunshine”. I think of my gain rather than my loss. A hundred reminders and a hundred ways to see how I was blessed. An empty chair became a reminder of happy times and of laughter. A picture could only mimic the fun and foolishness that happened that day. A room became a sanctuary of someone I once had and still have in my heart.

No one could take those memories away. I could enjoy them daily. Now I remember the love and in remembering the love . . . I am loved all over again!

Author unknown

ARE YOU LIKE AN ANGEL OR SOMETHING?

I hope the answer is yes, are you like an angel or something?
Psalm 55:22"Friends are God's way of taking care of us."

This following, are you like an angel or something, was written by a Metro Denver Hospice physician:



I just had one of the most amazing experiences of my life, and want toshare my story with my family and dearest friends.I was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado Blvd., and my car started to choke and splutter and die, I barely managed to coast, cursing, into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn't even turn over. Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the "quickie mart" building, and it looked like she had perhaps slipped on some ice and fell, so I got out to see if she was okay.When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, I picked it up to give it to her.. it was a nickel.At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95.I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just keptsaying " don't want my kids to see me crying," so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and things were very hard for her right now. So I asked, "And you were praying?" That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, "He heard you, and He sent me."I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely, and while it was fueling, walked next door to a McDonald's and bought 2 big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little.She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City. Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn't have money to pay rent Jan 1, and finally in desperation finally called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and they said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there.So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, she said, "So, are you like an angel or something?"This definitely made me cry. I said, "Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people."It was so incredible to be a part of someone else's divine intervention. And of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I'll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won't find anything wrong.Sometimes angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutterof their wings...Psalms 55:22 "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee.He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved."

THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

But held it up with a smile.

"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,

"Who'll start the bidding for me?"

"A dollar, a dollar," then, two! Only two?

"Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"

"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

Going for three..."

But no, From the room, far back, a grey-haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

And tightening the loose strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet

As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"

And he held it up with the bow.

"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

Two thousand! And who'll make it three?

Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;

And going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

"We do not quite understand

What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:

The touch of the master's hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioneered cheap to the thoughtless crowd,

Much like the old violin.

A "mess of potage", a glass of wine;

A game - he travels on.

He is "going" once, and "going" twice,

He's "going" and almost "gone".

But the Master comes and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought

By the touch of the Master's hand.

~Myra B. Welch

Shirley and Marcy

A mom was concerned about her kindergarten son
walking to school. He didn't want his mother to walk with him.

She wanted to give him the feeling that he had some
independence but yet know that he was safe. So she had an idea of how to
handle it.

She asked a neighbor if she would please follow him
to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he probably
wouldn't notice her. She said that since she was up early with her toddler
anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she
agreed. The next school day, the neighbor and her little girl set out
following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbor girl he knew.

She did this for the whole week. As the t wo walked and chatted,
kicking stones and twigs, Timmy' s little friend noticed the
same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week.

Finally she said to Timmy, 'Have you noticed that lady following us to
school all week? Do you know her?'

Timmy nonchalantly replied, 'Yeah, I know who she is.'

The little girl said, 'Well, who is she?'

'That's just Shirley Goodnest,' Timmy replied, 'and her daughter
Marcy.'

'Shirley Goodnest? Who is she and why is she following us?' 'Well,'
Timmy explained, 'every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd
Psalm with my prayers, 'cuz she worries about me so much. And in the
Psalm, it says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of
my life', so I guess I'll just have to get used to it!'

The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face to shine upon
you, and be gracious unto you; the Lord lift His countenance upon you, and
give you peace.

May Shirley Goodnest and Marcy be with you today and
always.

DOES GOD EXIST?

This is one of the best explanations of why God allows pain and suffering that I have seen. It's an explanation other people will understand.

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 a 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 un-kept. 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! What happens is, people do not come to me."

"Exactly!"- affirmed the customer. "That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! What happens, is, people don't go to Him and do not look for Him. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world."

TWO HORSES

There is a field with two horses. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing.

Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two horses, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is, trusting that he will not be led astray. When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and looks back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need. Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way....

Good friends are like that... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours. And remember...be kinder than necessary-- everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

TODAY I TAUGHT MY CHILD

When I got mad today and hit my child "For his own good, " I reconciled,and then I realized my plight...Today, I taught my child to fight.

When interrupted by the phone, I said, "tell them I'm not home." And then I thought, and had to sigh...Today I taught my child to lie.

I told the tax man what I made, forgetting cash that was paid, And than I blushed at this sad feat...Today I taught my child to cheat.

I smugly copied a cassette,To keep me from one more debt, But now the bells of shame must peal...Today I taught my child to steal.

Today I cursed another race, Oh God, protect what I debase, for now, I fear it is too late...Today I taught my child to hate.

By my example, children learnThat I must lead in life's sojourn. In such a way they are led By what is done and not what is said.

Today I gave my child his due By praise for him instead of rue. And now I have begun to guide; Today I gave my child pride.

I now have reconciled and paid to IRS all that I have made. And now I know that this dear youth, Today has learned from me the truth.

The alms I give are not for show, And yet, this child must surely know That charity is worth the price: Today he saw my sacrifice.

I clasp within a warm embrace My neighbor of another race. The great commandment from up above. Today I taught my child to love.

Someday my child must face aloneThis fearsome undertone, But I have blazed a sure pathway:

Today I taught my child to pray.

WOULD YOU CONSIDER ABORTION IN THE FOLLOWING SITUATIONS?

1. There's a preacher and wife who are very, very, poor. They already have 14 kids. Now she finds out she's pregnant with her 15th. They're living in tremendous poverty. Considering their poverty, and the excessive world population, would you consider recommending she get an abortion?

2. The father is sick with sniffles, the mother has TB. They have 4 children. 1st is blind, 2nd is dead, 3rd is deaf, 4th has TB. She finds she's pregnant again. Given the extreme situation, would you consider recommending abortion?

3. A white man raped a 13 year old black girl and she got pregnant. If you were her parents, would you consider recommending abortion?

4. A teenage girl is pregnant. She's not married. Her fiance is not the father of the baby, and he's very upset. Would you consider recommending abortion?

In the first case, you have just killed John Wesley. One of the great evangelists in the 19th century.

In the second case, you have killed Beethoven.

In the third case, you have killed Ethel Waters, the great black gospel singer.

If you said yes to the fourth case, you have just declared the murder of Jesus Christ!

-Unknown

Taxes

A tax assessor came one day to a poor Christian to determine the amount of taxes he would have to pay. The following conversation took place:

"What property do you possess?" asked the assessor."I am a very wealthy man," replied the Christian."List your possessions, please," the assessor instructed.

The Christian said:

"First, I have everlasting life, John 3:16

Second, I have a mansion in heaven, John 14:2

Third, I have peace that passes all understanding, Philippians 4:7

Fourth, I have joy unspeakable, 1 Peter 1:8

Fifth, I have divine love which never fails, 1 Corinthians 13:8

Sixth, I have a faithful wife, Proverbs 31:10

Seventh, I have healthy, happy obedient children, Exodus 20:12

Eighth, I have true, loyal friends, Proverbs 18:24

Ninth, I have songs in the night, Psalms 42:8

Tenth, I have a crown of life, James 1:12"

The tax assessor closed his book, and said, "Truly you are a very rich man, but your property is not subject to taxation."

"The Files"

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in a room filled with small files, which seemed to go on forever. The first file to catch my attention read "Boys I Have Liked." I quickly shut the file, shocked to realize that I knew these boys. And then, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room was a card catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of every single moment.

I began randomly opening files and exploring their contents. Some brought joy and sweet memories: others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. The files ranged from "Friends", to "Friends I Have Betrayed." "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Things I Have Mutter Under My Breath." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. It didn't seem possible that I could have written all of these cards, but each card was in my own handwriting, and each signed with my signature.
When I came to one marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, and shuddered at it's detailed content. Rage exploded within me. NO ONE MUST EVER SEE THESE CARDS! I HAVE TO DESTROY THEM! In an insane frenzy, I yanked the file out and began pounding it on the floor, but I couldn't dislodge a single card. I tried to tear a single card, only to find that it was as hard as steel. Defeated and helpless, I let out a long sigh, and then I saw it. The title read "People with Whom I Have Shared The Gospel." The handle was brighter than those around it. Newer, Almost unused. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

I fell to my knees and cried out of shame--the overwhelming shame of it all. But as I pushed away the tears I saw Him. No! NOT HERE. ANYONE BUT JESUS. Why did he have to go through every one? He seemed intuitively to go to the worst boxes. I dropped my head and covered my face with my hands. He walked over and put His arms around me. He could have said so many things, but he didn't say a word. He just cried with me. He got up and went back to the first file and began signing his name over mine. "No!" I shouted. I grabbed the card from him and there it was-- written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine, it was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back and continued signing. I don't know how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side, He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on the door. There were still cards to be written

"He's My Only Son" -- (author unknown)

The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio.You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. Its not influenza, but three of four people are dead, and its kind of interesting, and they are sending some doctors over there to investigate it.

You don't think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say its not three villagers, its 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.

By Monday morning when you get up, its the lead story. For its not just India; its Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu." The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?"

That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen. And that's why that night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English; There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it you have it for a week before you know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die. Britain closes its borders, but its too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing." Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are talking about "What if it comes to this country"? And preachers on Tuesday are saying "It's the scourge of God."

It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and yells, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" And while the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made. Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu. Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders. And then all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly and safely, to the hospitals.

Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your spouse and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around, scared, with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on and if this is the end of the World. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says," Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute. Hold on!" And they say, Its okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type.

Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses crying and hugging one another-some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, "Thank you sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine." As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.

But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we need.....we need you to sign a consent form." You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-ow many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!" "But-but. . . .I don't understand. He's my only son!" "We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We-We need it all!" "But can't you give him a transfusion?"
"If we had clean blood we would. Please, will you please sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say, "would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?" Could you walk back?

Could you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Could you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?" And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying." Could you leave? Could you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why. . . .why have you forsaken me?"

And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even bother to come because they have better things to do, and some folks come with just a pretentious smile and just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, "EXCUSE ME! MY SON DIED FOR YOU! MY ONLY SON! DON'T YOU EVEN CARE? DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?"

SEMINARY DONUTS

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending Seminary in Utah. In this Seminary, classes are held during school hours.

Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class.

Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over. One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."

Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?" Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."
"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?" Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time." "Do you think you could?" asked Brother Christianson again.
"Well, I can try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said. Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it." Brother Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Brother Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend. Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a donut?" Cynthia said, "Yes." Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?"
Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you want a donut?" Joe said, "Yes."
Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?" Steve did ten push-ups; Joe got a donut.

And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"
Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them." Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."
Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"

Steve started to do ten pushups. Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!" Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.
Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?" Jenny said, "No." Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?" Steve did ten; Jenny got a donut.

By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved. Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely.

Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it. Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?" Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!" Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come." Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."
Steve said, "Yes, let him come in." Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?" "Yes." "Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?"
Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut? Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."
Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?" Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda.

Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?" Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson , can I help him?" Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone. Steve, would you do ten pushups so Susan can have a donut?" As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him, and he fell to the floor.

Brother Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my Spirit." With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."