Tuesday, June 24, 2008

MOTHER

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie.
She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you."

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my Mother, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.
"What's wrong, are you well," she asked?
My Mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

"I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you, "I responded "just the two of us." She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much."

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary.

She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's. "I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting." We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My Mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady.

After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mother sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. "It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small, "she said.

"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded. During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you."
I agreed.

"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very nice, Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.

A few days later, my Mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Some time ater, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place Mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son."

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: "I love YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.
Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some other time."
"Your Heaven lies under the feet of your mother"
Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you've had a baby ....
somebody doesn't know that once you're a Mother, "normal" is history.

Somebody said you can't love the second child as much as you love the first ....
somebody doesn't have two or more children.

Somebody said the hardest part of being a Mother is labor and delivery ....
somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day
of kindergarten or on a plane headed for military "boot camp."

Somebody said a Mother can stop worrying after her child gets married ...
somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a Mother's heartstrings.

Somebody said a Mother's job is done when her last child leaves home .... somebody never had grandchildren.

Somebody said your Mother knows you love her, so you don't need to tell her ....
somebody isn't a Mother.

Pass this along to all the "Mothers" in your life and to everyone who ever had a mother.
This isn't just about being a Mother; it's about appreciating the people in your lives while you have them
..no matter who that person is.

Watch your Thoughts, they become words.
Watch your words, they become actions.
Watch your actions, they become habits.
Watch your Habits, they become character.
Watch your Character, for it becomes your Destiny...
" YOUR HEAVEN LIES BENEATH OF FEET OF YOUR MOTHER"

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Struggle

Struggle
A man found a cocoon of an emperor moth. He took it home so that he could watch the moth come out of the cocoon.
On that day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the moth for several hours as the moth struggled to force the body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and it could go no farther. It just seemed to be stuck.
Then the man, in his kindness, decided to help the moth, so he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. The moth then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings.
The man continued to watch the moth because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time. Neither happened!
In fact, the little moth spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled body and s hriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the moth to get through the tiny opening was the way of forcing fluid from the body of the moth into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
Freedom and flight would only come after the struggle. By depriving the moth of a struggle, he deprived the moth of health.
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life.
If we were to go through our life without any obstacles, we would be crippled. We would not be as strong as what we could have been.
Give every opportunity a chance.
Unknown author

Some thing we believe in

In the name of God who begtes NOT,NOR is begten.
Sometimes we believe we've finally done it?we've failed God so badly that he'll never forgive us. But God tells us over and over that his mercy is much bigger than our worst mistakes. "He is the most Merciful" If you're like me and you sometimes wonder if God can really forgive, remember that God will always forgive us when we sincerely ask him to Merry 1) How does it feel to be forgiven? Why do you think God wants to forgive us? 2) Look around your room. What are some of the things that delight you?you know, that really make you happy? Next time you ask for forgiveness, think of that feeling of delight; it's just a tiny glimpse of the delight God feels when he shows mercy toward you. 3) Thank God for his never-ending forgiveness.

Something To Think About As You Get Older

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached.
"Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion."
He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician.
His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me.
"Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen, or heard, or done. I thought about the things that she had done, without realizing that they were special.
I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life.
I'm reading more and dusting less.
I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden.
I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings.
I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it.
I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends'.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.
I'm not sure what my sister would have done, had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing - I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savour, not endure.
I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
Unknown author

Smile

Smile
I am a mother of three and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called "Smile,"
The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reaction. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say, hello anyway.....so, I thought, this would be a piece of cake literally.
Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonalds, one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special play time with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did not move an inch...an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved.
A s I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell... and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was "smiling"..his beautiful sky blue eyes: were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, "Good day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally deficient and the blue eyed gentle man was his salvation. I held my tears......as I stood there with them.
The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said,"Coffee is all Miss" because that was all they could afford (to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something...they just wanted to be warm). Then I really felt it...the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me...judging my every action. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue eyed gentleman's cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you."
I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you...God is here working through me to give you hope." I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, "That is why God gave you to me honey.... to give me hope." We held hands for a moment and at that time we knew that only because of the Grace were we able to give.
We are not church goers but we are believers. That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love. I returned to college, on th e last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it....then she looked up at me and said, "Can I share this?" I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings (part of God) share this need to heal.
In my own way I had touched the people at McDonalds, my husband, son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student. I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn... unconditional acceptance..... after all ....we are here to learn!
Much love and compassion sent to each and every person who may read this.
Unknown author

Small waves and large waves

A small wave in the ocean laments "Poor me. Other waves are so great in size, yet I am so small. Other waves can travel so fast, yet I am so inferior." Another wave replies "This is because you do not know your true being, so you think you are suffering. A wave is your temporary phenomenon. In actual fact, you are water. When you realize that your true being is water, you will no longer be troubled by your physical form, and therefore will no longer suffer."

Signals

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island.
He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions.
But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky.
The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger.
"God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.
Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him.
"How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers.
"We saw your smoke signal," they replied.
It is easy to get discouraged when t hings are going bad. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.
Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.
Unknown author

Short life story

Little girl and her father were crossing a bridge.The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter,"Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don't fall into the river."The little girl said, "No, Dad. You hold my hand.""What's the difference?" Asked the puzzled father."There's a big difference," replied the little girl. "If I hold your hand and something happens to me,chances are that I may let your hand go.But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens,you will never let my hand go."
In any relationship, the essence of trust is not in its bind, but in its bond.
So hold the hand of the person who loves you rather than expecting them to hold yours... This message is too short......but carries a lot of Feelings.
Please God hold us in each our action, so thah is only bridge between You and us.

Roses of life

Roses of Life
I've dreamed many dreams that never came true, I've seen them vanish at dawn. But I've realized enough of my dreams, thank God, To make me want to dream on.
I've prayed many prayers, when no answers came, Though I waited so patient and long, But answers came to enough of my prayersTo make me keep praying on.
I've trusted many a friend who failedAnd left me to week alone, But I've found enough of my friends to be trueTo make me keep trusting on.
I've sown many seeds that fell by the wayFor the birds to feed upon, But I've held enough golden sheaves in my handsTo make me keep sowing on.
I've drained the cup of disappointment and painAnd gone many days without song, But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of lifeTo make me want to live on.
Author Unknown

Room 712

In the name of God who never cease to forgive sin,
and You never cease To be generous, out of his bounty and kindness.
The hospital was unusually quiet that bleak January evening, quiet and still like the air before a storm. I stood in the nurses' station on the seventh floor and glanced at the clock. It was 9 P.M. I threw a stethoscope around my neck and headed for room 712, last room on the hall. Room 712 had a new patient. Mr. Williams. A man all alone. A man strangely silent about his family.
As I entered the room, Mr. Williams looked up eagerly, but dropped his eyes when he saw it was only me, his nurse. I pressed the stethoscope over his chest and listened. Strong, slow, even beating. Just what I wanted to hear. There seemed little indication he had suffered a slight heart attack a few hours earlier. He looked up from his starched white bed. "Nurse, would you --" He hesitated, tears filling his eyes. Once before he had started to ask me a question, but changed his mind. I touched his hand, waiting. He brushed away a tear. "Would you call my daughter? Tell her I've had a heart attack. A slight one. You see, I live alone and she is the only family I have." His respiration's suddenly speeded up. I turned his nasal oxygen up to eight liters a minute. "Of course I'll call her" I said, studying his face. He gripped the sheets and pulled himself forward, his face tense with urgency. "Will you call her right away -- as soon as you can?" He was breathing fast-- too fast. "I'll call her the very first thing," I said, patting his shoulder. I flipped off the light. He closed his eyes, such young blue eyes in his 50 - year -- old face. Room 712 was dark except for a faint night light under the sink. Oxygen gurgled in the green tubes above his bed. Reluctant to leave, I moved through the shadowy silence to the window. The panes were cold.
Below a foggy mist curled through the hospital parking lot. "Nurse," he called, "could you get me a pencil and paper?" I dug a scrap of yellow paper and a pen from my pocket and set it on the bedside table. I walked back to the nurses' station and sat in a squeaky swivel chair by the phone. Mr. Williams's daughter was listed on his chart as the next of kin. I got her number from information and dialed. Her soft voice answered. "Janie, this is Sue Kiddy, a registered nurse at the hospital. I'm calling about your father. He was admitted tonight with a slight heart attack and -- "No!" she screamed into the phone, startling me. "He's not dying is he ?" "His condition is stable at the moment," I said, trying hard to sound convincing. Silence. I bit my lip. "You must not let him die!" she said. Her voice was so utterly compelling that my hand trembled on the phone. "He is getting the very best care." "But you don't understand," she pleaded. "My daddy and I hav en't spoken since my 21st birthday, we had a fight over my fiance. I ran out of the house. I-I haven't been back. All these months I've wanted to go to him for forgiveness. The last thing I said to him was, ' I hate you." Her voice cracked and I heard her heave great agonizing sobs. I sat, listening, tears burning my eyes. A father and a daughter, so lost to each other. Then I was thinking of my own father, many miles away. It has been so long since I had said, "I love you." As Janie struggled to control her tears, I breathed a prayer. "Please God, let this daughter find forgiveness" "I'm coming. Now! I'll be there in 30 minutes," she said. Click. She had hung up.
I tried to busy myself with a stack of charts on the desk. I couldn't concentrate. Room 712; I knew I had to get back to 712. I hurried down the hall nearly in a run. I opened the door. Mr. Williams lay unmoving. I reached for his pulse. There was none. "Code 99, Room 712. Code 99. Stat." The alert was shooting through the hospital within seconds after I called the switchboard through the intercom by the bed. Mr. Williams had had a cardiac arrest.
With lightning speed I leveled the bed and bent over his mouth, breathing air into his lungs (twice). I positioned my hands over his chest and compressed. One, two, three. I tried to count. At fifteen I moved back to his mouth and breathed as deeply as I could. Where was help? Again I compressed and breathed, Compressed and breathed. He could not die! "O God," I prayed. "His daughter is coming. Don't let it end this way." The door burst open. Doctors and nurses poured into the room pushing emergency equipment. A doctor took over the manual compression of the heart. A tube was inserted through his mouth as an airway. Nurses plunged syringes of medicine into the intravenous tubing. I connected the heart monitor. Nothing. Not a beat. My own heart pounded. "God, don't let it end like this. Not in bitterness and hatred. His daughter is coming. Let her find peace." "Stand back," cried a doctor. I handed him the paddles for the electrical shock to the heart. He place d them on Mr. Williams's chest. Over and over we tried. But nothing. No response. Mr. Williams was dead. A nurse unplugged the oxygen. The gurgling stopped. One by one they left, grim and silent. How could this happen? How? I stood by his bed, stunned. A cold wind rattled the window, pelting the panes with snow. Outside - everywhere -- seemed a bed of blackness, cold and dark. How could I face his daughter?
When I left the room, I saw her against a wall by a water fountain. A doctor who had been inside 712 only moments before stood at her side, talking to her, gripping her elbow. Then he moved on, leaving her slumped against the wall. Such pathetic hurt reflected from her face. Such wounded eyes. She knew. The doctor had told her that her father was gone. I took her hand and led her into the nurses' lounge. We sat on little green stools, neither saying a word. She stared straight ahead at a pharmaceutical calendar, glass-faced, almost breakable-looking. "Janie, I'm so, so sorry," I said. It was pitifully inadequate. "I never hated him, you know. I loved him," she said. God, please help her, I thought. Suddenly she whirled toward me. "I want to see him." My first thought was, Why put yourself through more pain? Seeing him will only make it worse. But I got up and wrapped my arm around her. We walked slowly down the corridor to 712. Outside the door I squeezed her hand, wishing she would change her mind about going inside. She pushed open the door. We moved to the bed, huddled together, taking small steps in unison. Janie leaned over the bed and buried her face in the sheets. I tried not to look at her at this sad, sad good-bye. I backed against the bedside table. My hand fell upon a scrap of yellow paper. I picked it up. It read:
My dearest Janie, I forgive you. I pray you will also forgive me. I know that you love me. I love you too, Daddy
The note was shaking in my hands as I thrust it toward Janie. She read it once. Then twice. Her tormented face grew radiant. Peace began to glisten in her eyes. She hugged the scrap of paper to her breast. "Thank You, God," I whispered, looking up at the window. A few crystal stars blinked through the blackness. A snowflake hit the window and melted away, gone forever. Life seemed as fragile as a snowflake on the window. But thank You, God, that relationships, sometimes fragile as snowflakes, can be mended together again -- but there is not a moment to spare. I crept from the room and hurried to the phone. I would call my father. I would say, "I love you


Barbara Brown

Rocking with me ...

There was once an elderly, despondent woman in a nursing home. She wouldn't speak to anyone or request anything. She merely existed - rocking in her creaky old rocking chair.
The old woman didn't have many visitors. But every couple mornings, a concerned and wise young nurse would go into her room. She didn't try to speak or ask questions of the old lady. She simply pulled up another rocking chair beside the old woman and rocked with her.
Weeks or months later, the old woman finally spoke.
'Thank you,' she said. 'Thank you for rocking with me.'"

Author unknown

Recognising God's blessings

A young man was getting ready to Graduate College. For many monthshe had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, andknowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all hewanted.As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that hisfather had purchased the car. Finally, on the morning of hisgraduation his father called him into his private study. His father toldhimhow proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he lovedhim. He handed his son a beautiful wrapped gift box. Curious, butsomewhat disappointed the young man opened the box and found a lovely,leather-bound HOLY Book. Angrily, he raised his voice at his fatherand said, "With all your money you give me a HOLY BIBLE?" and stormedout of the house, leaving the holy book.He never contacted his father again for a long time.Many years passed and the young man wasvery successful in business. He had a beautiful homeand a wonderful family, but realized hisfather was very old and thought perhaps he should goto him. He had not seen him since thatgraduation day. Before he could make arrangements, hereceived a telegram telling him hisfather had passed away, and willed all of hispossessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and takecare of things. When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadnessand regret filled his heart. He began tosearch his father's important papers and saw the stillnew HOLY BOOK, just as he had left it yearsago. With tears, he opened the HOLY BOOK and began to turnthe pages. As he read those words, acar key dropped from an envelope taped behind theHOLY BOOK. It had a tag with the dealer'sname, the same dealer who had the sports car he haddesired. On the tag was the date of hisgraduation, and the words PAID IN FULL. How many times do we miss GOD'S blessings becausethey are not packaged as we expected? If this touchedyour heart, please pass it on, does notmatter what religion you belong to the message is for everyone .

Precious Gift

A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream.
The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him.
She did so without hesitation.
The traveler left rejoicing in his good fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime. But, a few days later, he came back to return the stone to the wise woman.
"I've been thinking," he said.
"I know how valuable this stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me this stone."
Sometimes it's not the wealth you have but what's inside you that others need.
Unknown author

Precious Lesson of Life

There was once a lonely girl who longed desperately for love. One day while she was walking in the woods she found two starving song birds. She took them home and put them in a small gilded cage. She nurtured them with love and the birds grew strong. Every morning they greeted her with a marvelous song. The girl felt great love for the birds. She wanted their singing to last forever. One day the girl left the door to the cage open. The larger and stronger of the two birds flew from the cage. The girl watched anxiously as he circled high above her. She was so frightened that he would fly away and she would never see him again that as he flew close, she grasped at him wildly. She caught him in her fist. She clutched him tightly within her hand. Her heart gladdened at her success in capturing him. Suddenly she felt the bird go limp. She opened her hand stared in horror at the dead bird. Her desperate clutching love had killed him. She noticed the other bird teetering on the edge of the cage. She could feel his great need for freedom. His need to soar into the clear, blue sky. She lifted him from the cage and tossed him softly into the air. The bird circled once, twice, three times. The girl watched delighted at the bird's enjoyment. Her heart was no longer concerned with her loss. She wanted the bird to be happy. Suddenly the bird flew closer and landed softly on her shoulder. It sang the sweetest melody, she had ever heard. The fastest way to lose love is to hold on too tight, the best way to keep love is to give it -- WINGS!

Author Unknown

A Prayer For The Children

We pray for the childrenwho sneak popsicles before supper,who erase holes in math workbooks,who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for thosewho stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,who never "counted potatoes",who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead,who never go to the circus,who live in an x-rated world.
We pray for the childrenwho bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for thosewho never get dessert,who have no safe blanketto drag behind them,who watch their parents watch them die, who can't find any bread to steal,who don't have any rooms to clean up,whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,whose monsters are real.
We pray for the children whospend all their allowance before Tuesday,who like ghost stories,who shove dirty clothes under the bed,who never rinse out the tub,who get visits from the tooth fairy,who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,whose tears we sometimes laugh at andwhose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for thosewhose nightmares come in the daytime,those who will eat anything,who have never seen a dentist,who aren't spoiled by anybody,who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for the children who want to be carried and for those who must be,for those we never give up on and for those who don't get a second chance,for those we smother and...for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.
Author Unknown

~ Read a Nice Poem Here Called"Think of Those Who Love You"

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An amazing prayer

In the name of God who has not begotten,nor has begotten. God always hears our prayers, But He does not always say, "Yes!" Sometimes He says, "Wait" Sometimes He says, "No" For He has something better for us.
God's delays are not denials, He has heard your prayer; He knows all about your trials, Knows your every care. God's delays are not denials, Help is on the way, He is watching o'er life's dials, Bringing forth that day.
God's delays aren not denials, You will find Him true, Working through the darkest trials, What is best for you. When God does not immediately response to our crises it is because He wants to accomplish some greater purpose in our lives. If you are waiting for an answer to some heartfelt petition, don't become impatient. Commit the matter into the hands of your loving God and trust His wisdom. It may be that you dislike a thing while it is good for you, and it may be that you love a thing while it is evil for you. At such times, refer to He who knows the best, and that is God. God knows, while we do not know. So we must Pray to God, then be patient, have faith in His unquestionable decision and trust His absolute wisdom. Never have this impression that God Almighty has opened the door of Pray but has closed the door of answering it. Sometimes God delays answering the Prayer to give a greater reward and a further blessing. What a catastrophe it would be if God answered every prayer at the snap of your fingers. Do you know what would happen? God would become your servant, not your Master. Suddenly God would be working for you, instead of you working for God. Remember, God's delay is not God's denial. God's timing is perfect. Patience and trust is needed.

Playing A Violin With Three Strings

On Nov. 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City.
If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and so he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches. To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an awesome sight.
He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play.
By now, the audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. Theyremain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs. They wait until he is ready to play.
But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. Youcould hear it snap - it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what that sound meant. There was no mistaking what he had to do.
We figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage - to either find another violin or else find another string for this one. But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again.
The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before.
Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refu sed toknow that.
You could see him modulating, changing, re-composing the piece in his head. At one point, it sounded like he was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made before.
When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done.
He smiled, wiped the sweat from this brow, raised his bow to quiet us, and then he said - not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone - "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."
What a powerful line that is. It has stayed in my mind ever since I heard it. And who knows? Perhaps that is the definition of life - not just for artist s but for all of us.
Here is a man who has prepared all his life to make music on a violin of four strings, who, all of a sudden, in the middle of a concert, finds himself with only three strings; so he makes music with three strings, and the music he made that night with just three strings was more beautiful, more sacred, more memorable, than any that he had ever made before, when he had four strings.
So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world in which we live is to make music, at first with all that we have, and then, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left.
Jack Riemer

Physical Judgement

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.
"Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home with me." "Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him."
"There's something you should know," the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg.
He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us."
"I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live."
"No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us." "Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."
At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him.
A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told.
The police believed it was suicide.
The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know,
their son had only one arm and one leg.
The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable.
We would rather stay away from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are.
Thankfully, there's someone who won't treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.
Tonight, before you tuck yourself in for the night, say a little prayer that God will give you the strength you need to accept people as they are, and to help us all be more understanding of those who are different from us!!!
Unknown author

Perspectives

One day a father and his rich family took his young son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose to show him how poor people can be. They spent a day and a night in the farm of a very poor family. When they got back from their trip the father asked his son, "How was the trip?"
Very good, Dad!"
"Did you see how poor people can be?" the father asked.
"Yeah!" "And what did you learn?"
The son answered, "I saw that we have a dog at home, and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of the garden, they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lamps in the garden, they have the stars. Our patio reaches to the front yard, they have a whole horizon.
When the little boy was finishing, his father was speechless.
His son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are!" Isn't it true that it all depends on the way you look at things? If you have love, friends, family, health, good humor and a positive attitude toward life, you've got everything!
You can't buy any of these things. You can have all the material possessions you can imagine, provisions for the future, etc., but if you are poor of spirit, you have nothing!

Author Unknown

Pebbles

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, spreading from the center as they go, Andthere is no way to stop them, once you've started them to flow.
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 waveTill you wouldn't believe the volume of the one kind word you gave.
(Written by James W. Foley)

Paderewski - Lesson of Life

Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the piano, a mother took her boy to a Paderewski concert.
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 wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually 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 the child was missing. Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway 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, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in the bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obbligato.
Together, the old master and the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative, experience. And the audience was mesmerized.
The lesson: Whatever our situation in life and history -- however outrageous, however desperate, whatever dry spell of the spirit, whatever dark night of the soul -- God is whispering deep within our beings, "Don't quit. Keep playing.
You are not alone. Together we will transform the broken patterns into a masterwork of My creative art.
Together, we will mesmerize the world."
Unknown author

Our Greatest Fear

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light , not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of god. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make and manifest the glory of god that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Author - Marianne Williamson

One Thousand Marbles

I'm a Ham radio operator and spend some time working with radios and electronics. So when I heard this story it really made me think! I hope that you will find some application in your own life as well...
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the basement shack with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it.
I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know, the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whomever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles".
I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say. " ;Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital."
He continued, "Let me tell you something, Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of "a thousand marbles."
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years."
"Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3,900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now stick with me Tom, I'm getting to the important part."
"It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy."
"So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round-up 1,000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear. Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away."
"I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight."
"Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time."
"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again."
You could have heard a pin drop on the radio when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.
"C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."
"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out ? I need to buy some marbles."

Jeffrey Davis