Submitted by; Jeff, Hays, Ks.

IS THIS NEAT OR WHAT!!

Guess what's happening in Florida? Recently a Ft. Lauderdale advertising agency launched a billboard campaign (including the inside and outside of buses) that included 17 different messages from God.
This non-denominational campaign started in September and ends soon, was sponsored by an anonymous client.
How cool to drive by one of these billboards?!!?

1. Let's Meet At My House Sunday Before the Game - God
2. C'mon Over And Bring The Kids - God
3. What Part of "Thou Shalt Not..." Didn't You Understand? -God
4. We Need To Talk - God
5. Keep Using My Name in Vain And I'll Make Rush Hour Longer- God
6. Loved The Wedding, Invite Me To The Marriage - God
7. That "Love Thy Neighbor" Thing, I Meant It. - God
8. I Love You...I Love You...I Love You... - God
9. Will The Road You're On Get You To My Place? - God
10. Follow Me. - God
11. Big Bang Theory, You've Got To Be Kidding. - God
12. My Way Is The Highway. - God
13. Need Directions? - God
14. You Think It's Hot Here? - God
15. Tell The Kids I Love Them. - God
16. Need a Marriage Counselor? I'm Available. - God
17. Have You Read My #1 Best Seller? There Will Be A Test. - God

Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born. So one day he asked God:
”They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?”

God said...
”Among the many angels, I chose one for you. She will be waiting for you and will take care of you.”

Said the child...
”But tell me, here in Heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile, that's enough for me to be happy.”

God said......
”Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day. And you will feel your angel's love and be happy.”

Child...
”And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if I don't know the language that men talk?”

God...
”Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.”

Child..
”And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?”

GOD..
”Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray.”

Child...
”I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?”

God...
”Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life.”

Child...
”But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore.”

God...
”Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you.’

”At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly:

Child..
”Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel's name.”

God...
”Your angel's name is of no importance, you will call your angel, ” Mommy.””

For three years, my dog, Pokey, and I worked side-by-side as volunteers in the Prescription Pet Program at The Children’s Hospital in Denver. I often referred to Pokey as a "terror" instead of a terrier because in those younger days, she was a perpetual motion machine. The only time she was different was during our hospital visits, and then she seemed to find some inner force that made her behave. Every time that Pokey and I visited patients, we saw little miracles, but one day something special happened that changed my perspective on how deeply Pokey could give.

On this day the volunteer office asked us to see a patient on the fourth floor - the oncology ward. So, along the way on our rounds, we made a special point to stop in at Darlene’s room.

Darlene was sixteen years old, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a ready smile. I asked, "Would you like to visit with Pokey?" and she accepted. I immediately knew that something unusual was going on. You see, my ball-of-fire terrier-mix climbed onto the bed and quickly went to the girl’s side to tuck in under her arm. Pokey laid her head on the girl’s shoulder, with her little dog face pointed up toward Darlene’s.

As Darlene looked down into those liquid brown eyes, she whispered to Pokey. This was definitely a change from the usual patient contact, where doggie tricks were the order of the day. Still, these two were obviously doing some serious work here, so I sat back and watched the television. After about thirty minutes, Darlene spoke up. "Thanks so much for visiting. I know you have other patients to see, so I’d better let you go. You’ll never know how much this meant to me." And she flashed us a brilliant smile.

Three weeks later, I got a phone call from Ann, our supervisor in the volunteer office, with whom I had shared this story. She said "I just wanted to let you know that Pokey’s friend, Darlene, is in heaven."

Darlene, that brave and beautiful sixteen-year-old child, had received terrible news that day that we visited her. Her cancer had relapsed for a third time. In her treatment protocol, there were no more options. She was destined to die - very soon.

Darlene had to have been afraid. Still, she couldn’t trust her family, friends, doctors or caregivers with her fears. There wasn’t a human alive who she could talk to - but she could share herself with this little dog! She knew that Pokey wouldn’t tell anyone her secrets. . .wouldn’t ridicule her dreams that would never come true.

We’ll never truly know what Darlene said that day or just how much good Pokey accomplished with her thirty minutes of loving silence. But Darlene instinctively knew what all dog lovers have known through the ages: No friend can be as trusting, loyal and loving as a dog.

Submitted by; Mary Ann, Tulsa, Ok.

Submitted by; Don, Oklahoma City, Ok.

"Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.

At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.
What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowness.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky -- he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did.
I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent.

A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God."
Although I believed a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human being on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who didn't answer.
Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read.
The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs -- all jumped up, trying to reach me.
I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons -- too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down.
It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
"Ta-daaaaaaaa! Look what I’ve got for you, Dad!" I sang out excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it!" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" I spat..
Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, old man?" I screamed.
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw.
Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.

Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room.
Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed.
I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy.
It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before.....
The sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter...
his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father...
and the proximity of their deaths.
Suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all. -- by Catherine Moore

May green be the grass you walk on,
May blue be the skies above you,
May pure be the joys that surround you,
May true be the hearts that love you.

An Irish Blessing

Submitted by; Ken, Duncan, Ok.

There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie.

Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant.
It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last.

However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."
His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself.
She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's.
His present which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents.
Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume.
But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say,
"Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."

After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children.

Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer- the letter was signed,
Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring.
Teddy said he'd met this girl and was going to be married.

He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. >

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear,
"Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference.
I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

Warm someone's heart today.... Pass this along.

Subject: A Touching Story about Stevie - be prepared!

I tried not to be biased in hiring a handicapped person, but his placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one.
I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick- tongued speech of Down syndrome.
I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.
The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me. The mouthy college kids traveling to school, the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of some dreaded "truckstop germ." The pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truckstop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would b uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck driver regulars had adopted him as their official truckstop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, Eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table.

Our only problem was convincing him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he’d scurry to the empty table and carefully bus the dishes and glasses onto a cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer.
They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truckstop. Their social worker, which stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks.
Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.
That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August,
the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart.
His social worker said that people with Down syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine.
Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.
Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.
He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked.
"We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay."
"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?"
Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be ok," she said, "but I don't know how he and his mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is."
Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.

Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.
After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand a funny look on her face.
"What's up?" I asked.

"I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said,
"This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Stevie".

"Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, " so I told him about Stevie and his mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this."
She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on it’s outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds.
Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply "truckers."

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday.
He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.
"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said, taking him and his mother by their arms, "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me." I decleared.
I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth empty as grinning truckers joined the possession.
We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.
"First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said.
I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.
Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.
I turned to his mother and said,. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. Happy Thanksgiving."

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny?

While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.

Best worker I ever hired.

Author Unknown

Plant a seed and watch it grow. At this point, you can bury this inspirational message or forward it, fulfilling the need!

Submitted by; Mary Ann, Tulsa, Ok.

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.
"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path." Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the Pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seed on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But don't be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.
(Author Unknown)

There was a woman who had been diagnosed with cancer and had been given 3 months to live. Her doctor told her to start making preparations to die (something we all should be doing all of the time.)
So she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what she wanted to be wearing. The woman also told her pastor that she wanted to be buried with her favorite bible. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing." She said excitedly.
"What's that?" came the pastor's reply.
"This is very important." The woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman not knowing quite what to say.
"That shocks you doesn't it?", the woman asked.
"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.

The woman explained, "In all my years of attending church socials and functions where food was involved (and let's be honest, food is an important part of any church event; spiritual or otherwise); my favorite part was when whoever was clearing away the dishes of the main course would lean over and say 'you can keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming. When they told me to keep my fork, I knew that something great was about to be given to me. It wasn't Jell-O or pudding -- it was cake or pie-something with substance.

So I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand, and I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: 'Something better is coming, so you keep your fork too.'"

The pastor's eyes were welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that this particular woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket, and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing, and her favorite bible, and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard the question asked, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork, and he told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you, oh, so gently, that there is something better coming.

The time to be happy is NOW.

The place to be happy is HERE.

Choose to BE HAPPY!!!

Submitted by; Nancy, Hays, Ks.

Good thing He is God, a loving and forgiving God.

GOD THING

What if,
GOD couldn't take the time to bless us today because we couldn't take the time to thank Him yesterday?

What if,
GOD decided to stop leading us tomorrow because we didn't follow Him today?

What if,
we never saw another flower bloom because we grumbled when GOD sent the rain?

What if,
GOD didn't walk with us today because we failed to recognize it as His day?

What if,
GOD took away the Bible tomorrow because we would not read it today?

What if,
GOD took away His message because we failed to listen to the messenger?

What if,
GOD didn't send His only begotten Son because He wanted us to be prepared to pay the price for sin.

What if,
the door of the church was closed because we did not open the door of our heart?

What if?
GOD stopped loving and caring for us because we failed to love and care for others?

What if,
GOD would not hear us today because we would not listen to Him yesterday?

What if,
GOD answered our prayers the way we answer His call to service?

What if,
GOD met our needs the way we give Him our lives??

It was a beautiful day for sightseeing around downtown Portland. We were a bunch of counselors on our day off, away from the camputers, just out for some fun. The weather was perfect for a picnic, so when lunch time came, we set our sights on a small park in town. Since we all had different cravings, we decided to split up, get what each of us wanted, and meet back on the grass in a few minutes.

When my friend Robby headed for a hot dog stand, I decided to keep her company. We watched the vendor put together the perfect hot dog, just the way Robby wanted it. But when she took out her money to pay him, the man surprised us.

"It looks a little on the cool side," he said, "so never mind paying me. This will be my freebie of the day."

We said our thanks, joined our friends in the park, and dug into our food. But as we talked and ate, I was distracted by a man sitting alone nearby, looking at us. I could tell that he hadn’t showered for days. Another homeless person, I thought, like all the others you see in cities. I didn’t pay much more attention than that.

We finished eating and decided to head off for more sightseeing. But when Robby and I went to the garbage can to throw away my lunch bag, I heard a strong voice ask, "There isn’t any food in the bag, is there?"

It was the man who had been watching us. I didn’t know what to say. "No, I ate it already."

"Oh," was his only answer, with no shame in his voice at all. He was obviously hungry, couldn’t bear to see anything thrown away, and was used to asking this question.

I felt bad for the man, but I didn’t know what I could do. That’s when Robby said, "I’ll be right back. Please wait for me for a minute," and ran off. I watched curiously as she went across to the hot dog stand. Then I realized what she was doing. She bought a hot dog, crossed back to the trash can, and gave the hungry man the food.

When she came back to us, Robby said simply, "I was just passing on the kindness that someone gave to me."

That day I learned how generosity can go farther than the person you give to. By giving, you teach others how to give also.

Submitted by;
"The Author of this site",
Jan, Russell, Ks.

An Excerpt from; " The Scout ", by Harry Combs.....
This holds so much truth and has so much meaning that I feel compelled to capture it for you all to see & read.... maybe it will hit home for you as it did for me... Jan.

"Their songs brought tears to my eyes. Some of them was about the lonely country of the West and about the sadness of trying to find some promised land and never really getting there. Many's a time I've thought about it afterward during the long years that have been mine since that time. I ain't too sure but what that ain't the story of my life.
---always looking for something that you ain't really gonna find, always the promise, always something over the next range of hills, always something beautiful and pure, way out yonder, just beyoud your reach.
---you know if you could only get there you'd find happiness. Sometimes I think that the Great Spirit fixed it that way so that we'd keep going. He didn't want us to pause none in the trail of life, 'cause if we done that, the whole story of all the life on this earth would be over."

And God Said....No

I asked God to take away my pride. And God said "No".
He said it was not for him to take away, but for me to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole. And God said "No".
He said her spirit was whole, her body was only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience. And God said "No".
He said patience is a by-product of tribulations. It isn't granted, it is earned.

I asked God to give me happiness. And God said "No".
He said he gives me blessings, happiness is up to me.

I asked God to spare me pain. And God said "No".
He said suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.

I asked God to make my spirit grow. And God said "No".
He said I must grow on my own. But he will prune me to make me fruitful.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. And God said "No".
He said I will give you life, that you may enjoy all things.

I ask God to help me LOVE others, as much as he loves me.
And God said, Ah, finally you have the idea.

Author Unknown

Read all of them, understand them, and live by them.

Five Great Lessons
The Important Things Life Teaches You...

~ 1 ~ Most Important Question.

During my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'Hello'." I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

~ 2 ~ Pickup in the Rain.

One night, at 11:30 PM, an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her - generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab. She seemed to be in a big hurry! She wrote down his address, thanked him and drove away.
Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached. It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others."

Sincerely,
Mrs. Nat King Cole

~ 3 ~ Always remember those who serve

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins.
"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed.
When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

~ 4 ~ The Obstacle in Our Path.

In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. As the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway.

The peasant learned what many others never understand. Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one's condition.

~ 5 ~ Giving Blood.

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies, needed to combat the illness.
The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying,
"Yes, I'll do it if it will save Liz."
As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister a.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice,
"Will I start to die right away?"

Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood.

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice.
The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"
After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.
It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey."
As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought.
Stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud,

"God is that you?"
He didn't get a reply and started on toward home. But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk. The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.
"Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.

As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt an urge, "Turn down that street." This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.
Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will".

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop.
He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in semi-commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.

Again, he sensed something,
"Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street."
The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.

"Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid."
Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.
Finally, he opened the door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here."

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?" Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. "What is it?"

The young man thrust out the gallon of milk,"Here, I brought thi to you."
The man took the milk and rushed down a hall way speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face. The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I asked him to send an Angel with some.. Are you an Angel?"

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.
He knew that God still answers prayers.

Submitted by; Jeff, Hays, Ks.

My Mother taught me LOGIC - "If you fall off that swing and break your neck, you can't go to the store with me."

My Mother taught me MEDICINE - "If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they're going to freeze that way."

My Mother taught me TO THINK AHEAD - "If you don't pass your spelling test, you'll never get a good job!"

My Mother taught me ESP - "Put your sweater on; don't you think that I know when you're cold?"

My Mother taught me TO MEET A CHALLENGE -"What were you thinking? Answer me when I talk to you ... Don't talk back to me!"

My Mother taught me HUMOR - "When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."

My Mother taught me how to BECOME AN ADULT - "If you don't eat your vegetables you'll never grow up.

My mother taught me about GENETICS - "You are just like your father"

My mother taught me about my ROOTS - "Do you think you were born in barn?"

My mother taught me about the WISDOM of AGE - "When you get to be my age you will understand"

My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION - "Just wait until your father gets home."

My mother taught me about RECEIVING - You are going to get it when we get home.

Where would we be without our MOTHERS?!!!!

THANKS MOM!!

Submitted by; Linsey, Bartlesville, Ok.

Everyone longs to give themselves completely to someone, to have a deep soul relationship with another, to be loved throughly, and exclusively. But God to a Christian says, "No, not until you are satisfied, fulfilled, and content with being loved by Me alone, with giving yourself totally and unreservedly to Me, with having your satisfaction to be found, will you be capable of the perfecy human relationship that I have planned for you. You will never be united with another until you are united with Me, exclusive of anyone or anything else, exclusive of any other desires or longings. I want you to stop planning and stop wishing, and allow me to give you the most thrilling plan existing, one that you cannot imagine. I want you to have the BEST. Please allow Me to bring it to you. You keep watching Me, expecting the greatest things. Keep experiencing the satisfaction that I am. Keep listening and learning the things I tell you, you just wait. That is all.

Do not be anxious. Do not worry. Do not look around at the things others have gotten or that I have given them.Do not look at the things you think you want. Just keep looking off and away up to Me, or you will miss what I want to show you.

An then, when you are ready, I will surprise you with a love far more wonderful than ANY you would dream of. You see, until you are ready and until the one I have for you is ready (for I am working even at this moment to have both of you ready at the same time), until you are both satisfied exclusively with Me and the life I have prepared for you, you will not be able to experience the love that exemplifies your relationship with Me, and thus the perfect love.

And dear one, I want you to have this most wonderful love. I want you to see in the flesh a picture of your relationship with Me and enjoy materially and concretely the everlasting union of beauty, perfection, and love. Know that I love you utterly. I am God. Believe it and be satisfied.

Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalms 37:4

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart."
Jeremiah 29:11-13

READ THIS, don't just scan it, It says a lot about life!

Around the corner I have a friend
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone
And I never see my old friend's face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell,
And he rang mine.

If, we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say "I will call on Jim"
"Just to show that I'm thinking of him."

But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner!- yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir - "Jim died today."

And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

If you love someone, tell them.
Remember always to say what you mean.

Never be afraid to express yourself.
Take this opportunity to tell someone what they mean to you.
Seize the day and have no regrets.

Most importantly, stay close to your friends and family,
for they have helped make you the person that you are today and are what it's all about anyway.

The difference between expressing love and having regrets is that the regrets may stay around forever.

Submitted by, Nancy, Hays, Ks.

“A Story To Live By”......... by Ann Wells (Los Angeles Times)

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. "Sue 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 them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. 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.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them. I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first Camellia blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. 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've done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. 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.
Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with - someday.
Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write - one of these days.
Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them.

I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is... a gift from God.
May love litter your life with blessings!

"You've got to dance like nobody's watching, and love like it's never going to hurt."
"People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there."

Submitted by, Chuck, Tampa, Fl.

Great One:

In a university commencement address several years ago, Brian Dyson, CEO of Coca Cola Enterprises, spoke of the relation of work to one's other commitments:

Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them - work, family, health, friends and spirit - and you're keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls - family, health, friends and spirit - are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.
How?

* Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others. It is because we are different that each of us is special.

* Don't set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you.

* Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would your life, for without them, life is meaningless.

* Don't let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time, you live ALL the days of your life.

* Don't give up when you still have something to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.

* Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us to each together.

* Don't be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.

* Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find time.
The quickest way to receive love is to give;
the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly;
and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.

* Don't run through life so fast that you forget not only where you've been,
but also where you are going.

* Don't forget, a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

* Don't be afraid to learn. Knowledge is weightless, a treasure you can always carry easily.

* Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved. Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way.

Submitted by, Ken, Duncan, Ok.

Some of the most poignant moments I spend as a veterinarian are those spent with my clients assisting the transition of my animal patients from this world to the next. When living becomes a burden, whether from pain or loss of normal functions, I can help a family by ensuring that their beloved pet has an easy passing. Making this final decision is painful, and I have often felt powerless to comfort the grieving owners.

That was before I met Shane.

I had been called to examine a ten-year-old blue heeler named Belker who had developed a serious health problem. The dog’s owners - Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane - were all very attached to Belker and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer.

I told the family there were no miracles left for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for the four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt Shane could learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.

Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.

Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why." Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me - I’d never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, "Everybody is born so that they can learn how to live a good life - like loving everybody and being nice, right?" The four-year-old continued, "Well, animals already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long."

By Robin Downing, D.V.M

Ruth went to her mail box and there was only one letter.
She picked it up and looked at it before opening, but then she looked at the envelope again. There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address.

She read the letter:

Dear Ruth,

I'm going to be in your neighborhood Saturday afternoon and I'd like to stop by for a visit.

Love Always,
Jesus

Her hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table.
"Why would the Lord want to visit me? I'm nobody special. I don't have anything to offer."
With that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets. "Oh my goodness, I really don't have anything to offer. I'll have to run down to the store and buy something for dinner."
She reached for her purse and counted out its contents. Five dollars and forty cents.

"Well, I can get some bread and cold cuts, at least." She threw on her coat and hurried out the door. A loaf of french bread, a half-pound of sliced turkey, and a carton of milk...leaving Ruth with grand total of twelve cents to last her until Monday.
Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her meager offerings tucked under her arm.

"Hey lady, can you help us, lady?" Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans, she hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the alleyway.
A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags. "Look lady, I ain't got a job, ya know, and my wife and I have been living out here on the street, and, well, now it's getting cold and we're getting kinda hungry and, well, if you could help us, lady, we'd really appreciate it."

Ruth looked at them both. They were dirty, they smelled bad and,frankly, she was certain that they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to.

"Sir, I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman myself. All I have is a few cold cuts and some bread, and I'm having an important guest for dinner tonight and I was planning on serving that to Him."

"Yeah, well, okay lady, I understand. Thanks anyway." The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders, turned and headed back into the alley.
As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar twinge in her heart."Sir, wait!" The couple stopped and turned as she ran down the alley after them. "Look, why don't you take this food. I'll figure out something else to serve my guest." She handed the man her grocery bag.

"Thank you lady. Thank you very much!" "Yes, thank you!" It was the man's wife, and Ruth could see now that she was shivering. "You know, I've got another coat at home. Here, why don't you take this one." Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman's shoulders.

Then smiling, she turned and walked back to the street...without her coat and with nothing to serve her guest. "Thank you lady! Thank you very much!"

Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too. The Lord was coming to visit and she didn't have anything to offer Him. She fumbled through her purse for the door key. But as she did, she noticed another envelope in her mailbox.
"That's odd. The mailman doesn't usually come twice in one day." She took the envelope out of the box and opened it.

Dear Ruth,

It was so good to see you again. Thank you for the lovely meal. And thank you, too, for the beautiful coat.

Love Always,
Jesus

The air was still cold, but even without her coat, Ruth no longer noticed.

Submitted by, Jackie, Santa Anna, Tx. Thanks Jackie...

”OK, Folks grab that box of tissues as someone just sent me a tear jerker, but it is so sweet and about true love”, said Jackie...

”I reveived this from Jackie this afternoon (3/16/99).. and only today, I heard a song on the radio with much the same leriks... hummmmm.. “, Jan

Ladies and Gentlemen,
This one is well worth the read.

SHMILY

My grandparents were married for over half a century and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.

They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers, to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio (where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring).

"Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper, to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet.

There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up.
Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels.
The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture.

It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love -- one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship.
They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection, with kisses, as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble.
My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew " how to pick 'em."

Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune and each other. But, there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' lives:
my grandmother had breast cancer.

The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside.

Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, they went to church every morning.
But, my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife.
Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.

"Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time.
Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother's casket and (taking a shaky breath) he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came (a deep and throaty lullaby). Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that (although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love) I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.

S-h-m-i-l-y: “See How Much I Love You”. Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa, for letting me see. Author Unknown (Please, if anyone knows who the author is, I would like to give credit.)

”The Carpenter”

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and ask if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end his career.

When the carpenter finished his work and the builder came to inspect the house, the contractor handed the front-door key to the carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you."

What a shock! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. Now he had to live in the home he had built none too well.

So it is with us. We build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with a shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now living in the house we have built. If we had realized that we would have done it differently.

Think of yourself as the carpenter. Think about your house. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build wisely.

It is the only life you will ever build. Even if you live it for only one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with dignity.

The plaque on the wall says, "Life is a do-it-yourself project.

Who could say it more clearly? Your life today is the result of your attitudes and choices in the past. Your life tomorrow will be the result of your attitudes and the choices you make today.

Submitted by, Ken , Duncan, Ok.

There was once a man who didn't believe in the incarnation or the spiritual meaning of Christmas, and was skeptical about God. He and his family lived in a farm community. His wife was a devout believer and diligently raised her children in her faith. He sometimes gave her a hard time about her faith and mocked her religious observance of Christmas.

One snowy Christmas eve she was taking the kids to the Christmas eve service at church. She pleaded with him to come, but he firmly refused. He ridiculed the idea of the incarnation of Christ and dismissed it as nonsense. "Why would God lower himself and become a human like us?! It's such a ridiculous story!" he said.
So she and the children left for church while he stayed home.

After they left, the winds grew stronger and the snow turned into a blizzard. As he looked out the window, all he saw was a blinding snowstorm. He sat down to relax before the fire for the evening. Then he heard a loud thump, something hitting against the window.
And another thump. He looked outside but couldn't see. So he ventured outside to see. In the field near his house he saw, of all the strangest things, a flock of geese! They were apparently flying to look for a warmer area down south, but got caught in the snow storm.
The snow had became too blinding and violent for the geese to fly or see their way. They were lost and stranded on his farm, with no food or shelter. They just fluttered their wings and flew around in circles around the field blindly and aimlessly.

He had compassion for them and wanted to help them. He thought to himself, "The barn would be a great place for them to stay! It's warm and safe; surely they could spend the night and wait out the storm."
So he walked over to the barn and opened the barn doors for them. He waited, watching them, hoping they would notice the open barn and go inside.
But they just fluttered around aimlessly and didn't notice the barn or realize what it could mean for them.
So he started whistling and calling to them. Nothing. He shouted, jumped up and down, waved his arms. They didn't pay attention. He moved closer toward them to get their attention, but they just moved away from him out of fear. He went into the house and came back out with some bread, broke it up, and made a bread trail leading to the barn. They still didn't catch on.
Starting to get frustrated, he went over and tried to shoo them, run after them, and chase them toward the barn. They only got scared and scattered into every direction except toward the barn. None of his attempts to get them into the barn succeeded. Nothing he did could get them to go into the barn where there was warmth, safety, and shelter; nothing he did could make them enter the one place where they could survive.
Feeling totally frustrated, he exclaimed, "Why don't they listen to me! Why don't they follow me! What's wrong with them! Can't they see this is the only place where they can survive the storm! How can I possibly get them into the one place to save them!" He thought for a moment and realized that they just won't follow a human. He said to himself, "How can I possibly save them? The only way would be for me to become like those geese. If only I could become like one of them! Then I could show them the way! Then I could save them! They would follow me, not fear me. They would trust me, and I would lead them to safety."

He stood silently for a moment as the words that he just said reverberated back to himself in his mind: "If only I could become like one of them--then I could show them the way--then I could save them." He thought about his words, and remembered what he said to his wife: "Why would God want to be like us? That's so ridiculous!"
Something clicked in his mind as he put these two together. It was like a revelation, and he began to understand the incarnation. We were like the geese--blind, gone astray, perishing. God became like us so He could show us the way and make a way available to save us.
That is the meaning of Christmas, he realized in his heart. As the winds and blinding snow abated, his heart became quiet and pondered this epiphany.
He understood what Christmas was all about. He knew why Christ had come. Suddenly years of doubt and disbelief were shattered, as he humbly and tearfully bowed down in the snow, and embraced the true meaning of Christmas.

Submitted by, Jackie, Santa Anna, Tx.

Subject: ” Finding Time”

As you got up this morning, I watched you and hoped you would talk to me, even if it was just a few words, asking my opinion or thanking me for something good that happened in your life yesterday - but I noticed you were too busy trying to find the right outfit to put on and wear to work.

I waited again. When you ran around the house getting ready, I knew there would be a few minutes for you to stop and say hello, but you were too busy.

At one point you had to wait fifteen minutes with nothing to do except sit in a chair. Then I saw you spring to your feet. I thought you wanted to talk to me but you ran to the phone and called a friend to get the latest gossip.

I watched as you went to work and I waited patiently all day long. With all your activities I guess you were too busy to say anything to me. I noticed that before lunch you looked around, maybe you felt embarrassed to talk to me, that is why you didn't bow your head.

You glanced three or four tables over and you noticed some of your friends talking to me briefly before they ate, but you didn't. That's okay.

There is still more time left, and I have hope that you will talk to me yet

you went home and it seems as if you had lots of things to do. Affter a few of them were done you turned on the TV, I don't know if you like TV or not, just about anything goes there & you spent a lot of time each day in front of it, not thinking about anything just enjoying the show. I waited patiently again as you watched the TV and ate your meal but again you didn't talk to me.

Bedtime I guess you felt too tired. After you said goodnight to your family you plopped into bed and fell asleep in no time. That's okay because you may not realize that I am always there for you. I've got patience more than you will ever know. I even want to teach you how to be patient with others as well.

I love you so much that I wait every day for a nod, a prayer, a thought or a thankful part of your heart. It is hard to have a one-sided conversation.

Well, you are getting up again and once again I will wait with nothing but love for you hoping that today you will give me some time.

Have a nice day!
Your friend,
God

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