Here is a good letter to ponder upon. Isn't it worth reading? Good article! I feel it is worth sharing, so enjoy reading! :).
Showing posts with label Spiritual Reflections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spiritual Reflections. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Different Drug Problem
Here is a good letter to ponder upon. Isn't it worth reading? Good article! I feel it is worth sharing, so enjoy reading! :).
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
The Son...My Son!!!
Take my Son
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"
There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting. Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"
Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.
They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel.. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"
A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!"
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.
The man who took the son gets everything!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is:
"The son, the son, who'll take the son?"
Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything..
FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT' S LOVE
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.
He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?"
There was silence.
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting. Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?"
Another voice angrily. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"
But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"
"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.
They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
The auctioneer pounded the gavel.. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"
A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!"
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"
I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.
The man who took the son gets everything!"
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is:
"The son, the son, who'll take the son?"
Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything..
FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT' S LOVE
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Two Days We should Not WORRY
The author of this poem is unknown. I like the poem and I think it is worth sharing ...so here it goes.
There are two days in every week about which we should not worry,
two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.
One of these days is Yesterday with all its mistakes and cares,
its faults and blunders, its aches and pains.
Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control.
All the money in the world cannot bring back yesterday.
We cannot undo a single act we performed; we cannot erase a single word we said.
Yesterday is gone forever.
The other day we should not worry about is Tomorrow with all its possible adversities, its burdens, its large promise and its poor performance;
Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.
Tomorrow’s sun will rise, either in splendour or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise.
Until it does, we have no stake in tomorrow, for it is yet to be born. This leaves only one day, Today.
Any person can fight the battle of just one day.
It is when you and I add the burdens of those two awful eternities
Yesterday and Tomorrow that, we break down.
It is not the experience of Today that drives a person mad,
It is the remorse or bitterness of something which happened yesterday and the dread of what Tomorrow may bring.
Let us, therefore, live but one day at a time.
>Author Unknown
Life is shorter for some
Watch the man on the left walking, crossing the road where there is no car. It is so definite that the coast on the left is clear, and safe to cross. Any person would see it is safe....
Take nothing for granted, not even for a split second!
Be grateful for every living minute.
We seem to take life for granted.... but Tomorrow is Not Promised...
Relax your mind and humble your heart to focus on Christ..
Allow God to be the only person on your mind while you
read this prayer. If we can take the time to read long jokes,
stories, etc., we should give the same respect to this prayer.
Friends, who pray together, stay together.
Dear Lord, I thank you for this day.
I thank You for my being able to see
and to hear this morning. I'm b lessed
because You are a forgiving God and
an understanding God. You have done
so much for me and You keep on
blessing me. Forgive me this day for
everything I have done, said or thought
that was not pleasing to you. I ask now
for Your forgiveness.
Please keep me safe from all danger and harm.
Help me to start this day with a new attitude
and plenty of gratitude. Let me make the best
of each and every day to clear my mind so that
I can hear from You.
Please broaden my mind that I can accept all things.
Let me not whine and whimper over things I have
no control over. Let me continue to see sin through
God's eyes and acknowledge it as evil. And when I
sin, let me repent, and confess with my mouth my
wrongdoing, and receive the forgiveness of God.
And when this world closes in on me, let me
remember Jesus' example -- to slip away and find
a quiet place to pray. It's the best response when
I'm pushed beyond my limits. I know that when
I can't pray, You listen to my heart. Continue to
use me to do Your will.
Continue to bless me that I may be a blessing to
others. Keep me strong that I may help the weak.
Keep me uplifted that I may have words of
encouragement for others. I pray for those who are
lost and can't find their way. I pray for those who
are misjudged and misunderstood. I pray for those
who don't know You intimately. I pray for those
who will delete this without sharing it w with
others. I pray for those who don't believe. I thank
you that I believe.
I believe that God changes people and God changes
things. I pray for all my sisters and brothers. For
each and every family member in their households.
I pray for peace, love and joy in their homes that they
are out of debt and all their needs are met.
I pray that every eye that reads this knows there is
no problem, circumstance, or situation greater than
God. Every battle is in Your hands for You to fight.
I pray that these words be received into the hearts of
every eye that sees them and every mouth that
confesses them willingly..
This is my prayer.
In Jesus' Name, Amen.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Golden Words To Live By (Part 1)
TRUST is a very important factor for all relationships. When trust is broken, it is the end of the relationship. Lack of trust leads to suspicion, suspicion generates anger, anger causes enmity and enmity may result in separation.
A telephone operator told me that one day she received a phone call. She answered, "Public Utilities Board." There was silence. She repeated, "PUB." There was still no answer. When she was going to cut off the line, she Heard a lady's voice, "Oh, so this is PUB. Sorry, I got the number from my Husband's pocket but I do not know whose number it is."
Without mutual trust, just imagine what will happen to the couple if the telephone operator answered with just "hello" instead of "PUB".
A telephone operator told me that one day she received a phone call. She answered, "Public Utilities Board." There was silence. She repeated, "PUB." There was still no answer. When she was going to cut off the line, she Heard a lady's voice, "Oh, so this is PUB. Sorry, I got the number from my Husband's pocket but I do not know whose number it is."
Without mutual trust, just imagine what will happen to the couple if the telephone operator answered with just "hello" instead of "PUB".
Monday, February 4, 2008
Berry Mauve or Muted Wine? (An Inspirational Article)
He found me weeping bitterly in the hospital room. "What's wrong?" Richard asked, knowing that we both had reason to cry.
In the past forty-eight hours, I learned that I had a cancerous lump in my breast that had spread to my lymph nodes, and there was a possible spot on my brain. We were both thirty-two with three young children. Richard pulled me tight and tried to comfort me.
Our friends and family had been amazed at the peace that had overwhelmed us. Jesus was our Savior and comfort before I found out I had cancer, and he remained the same after my diagnosis. But it seemed to Richard that the terrifying reality of my situation had finally crashed in on me in the few moments he was out of the room. As he held me tight, Richard tried to comfort me.
"It's all been too much, hasn't it Suz?" he said. "That's not it," I cried and held up the hand mirror I had just found in the drawer. Richard looked puzzled. "I didn't know it would be like this," I cried, as I stared in shock at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't recognize myself. I was horribly swollen. After the surgery, I had groaned as I lay asleep and well-meaning friends had freely pushed the self-dispensing medication to ease what they thought was pain. Unfortunately I was allergic to morphine and had swelled like a sausage. Betadine from the surgery stained my neck, shoulder and chest and it was too soon for a bath.
A tube hung out of my side draining the fluid from the surgical site. My left shoulder and chest were wrapped tightly in gauze where I had lost a portion of my breast. My long, curly hair was matted into one big wad. More than one hundred people had come to see me over the past forty-eight hours, and they had all seen this brown-and-white, swollen, makeup-less, matted-haired, gray-gowned woman who used to be me.
Where had I gone? Richard laid me back on the pillow and left the room. Within moments he came back, his arms laden with small bottles of shampoo and conditioner that he confiscated from the cart in the hall. He pulled pillows out of the closet and dragged a chair over to the sink. Unraveling my IV, he tucked the long tube from my side in his shirt pocket. Then he reached down, picked me up and carried me - IV stand and all - over to the chair. He sat me down gently on his lap, cradled my head in his arms over the sink and began to run warm water through my hair. He poured the bottles over my hair, washing and conditioning my long curls. He wrapped my hair in a towel and carried me, the tube, and the IV stand back over to the bed. He did this so gently that not one stitch was disturbed.
My husband, who had never blow-dried his hair in his life, took out a blow-dryer and dried my hair, the whole while entertaining me as he pretended to give beauty tips. He then proceeded, based on the experience of watching me for the past twelve years, to fix my hair. I laughed as he bit his lip, more serious than any beauty-school student. He bathed my shoulder and neck with a warm washcloth, careful to not disturb the area around the surgery, and rubbed lotion into my skin. Then he opened my makeup bag and began to apply makeup.
I will never forget our laughter as he tried to apply my mascara and blush. I opened my eyes wide and held my breath as he brushed the mascara on my lashes with shaking hands. He rubbed my cheeks with tissue to blend in the blush. With the last touch, he held up two lipsticks. "Which one? Berry mauve or muted wine?" he asked. He applied the lipstick like an artist painting on a canvas and then held the little mirror in front of me.
I was human again. A little swollen, but I smelled clean, my hair hung softly over my shoulders and I recognized myself. "What do you think?" he asked. I began to cry again, this time because I was grateful. "No, baby. You'll mess up my makeup job," he said and I burst into laughter.
During that difficult time in our lives, I was given only a 40 percent chance of survival over five years. That was seven years ago. I made it through those years with laughter, God's comfort and the help of my wonderful husband. We will celebrate our nineteenth anniversary this year, and our children are now in their teens. Richard understood what must have seemed like vanity and silliness in the midst of tragedy. Everything I had ever taken for granted had been shaken in those hours - the fact that I would watch my children grow, my health, my future. With one small act of kindness, Richard gave me normalcy. I will always see that moment as one of the most loving gestures of our marriage.
In the past forty-eight hours, I learned that I had a cancerous lump in my breast that had spread to my lymph nodes, and there was a possible spot on my brain. We were both thirty-two with three young children. Richard pulled me tight and tried to comfort me.
Our friends and family had been amazed at the peace that had overwhelmed us. Jesus was our Savior and comfort before I found out I had cancer, and he remained the same after my diagnosis. But it seemed to Richard that the terrifying reality of my situation had finally crashed in on me in the few moments he was out of the room. As he held me tight, Richard tried to comfort me.
"It's all been too much, hasn't it Suz?" he said. "That's not it," I cried and held up the hand mirror I had just found in the drawer. Richard looked puzzled. "I didn't know it would be like this," I cried, as I stared in shock at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't recognize myself. I was horribly swollen. After the surgery, I had groaned as I lay asleep and well-meaning friends had freely pushed the self-dispensing medication to ease what they thought was pain. Unfortunately I was allergic to morphine and had swelled like a sausage. Betadine from the surgery stained my neck, shoulder and chest and it was too soon for a bath.
A tube hung out of my side draining the fluid from the surgical site. My left shoulder and chest were wrapped tightly in gauze where I had lost a portion of my breast. My long, curly hair was matted into one big wad. More than one hundred people had come to see me over the past forty-eight hours, and they had all seen this brown-and-white, swollen, makeup-less, matted-haired, gray-gowned woman who used to be me.
Where had I gone? Richard laid me back on the pillow and left the room. Within moments he came back, his arms laden with small bottles of shampoo and conditioner that he confiscated from the cart in the hall. He pulled pillows out of the closet and dragged a chair over to the sink. Unraveling my IV, he tucked the long tube from my side in his shirt pocket. Then he reached down, picked me up and carried me - IV stand and all - over to the chair. He sat me down gently on his lap, cradled my head in his arms over the sink and began to run warm water through my hair. He poured the bottles over my hair, washing and conditioning my long curls. He wrapped my hair in a towel and carried me, the tube, and the IV stand back over to the bed. He did this so gently that not one stitch was disturbed.
My husband, who had never blow-dried his hair in his life, took out a blow-dryer and dried my hair, the whole while entertaining me as he pretended to give beauty tips. He then proceeded, based on the experience of watching me for the past twelve years, to fix my hair. I laughed as he bit his lip, more serious than any beauty-school student. He bathed my shoulder and neck with a warm washcloth, careful to not disturb the area around the surgery, and rubbed lotion into my skin. Then he opened my makeup bag and began to apply makeup.
I will never forget our laughter as he tried to apply my mascara and blush. I opened my eyes wide and held my breath as he brushed the mascara on my lashes with shaking hands. He rubbed my cheeks with tissue to blend in the blush. With the last touch, he held up two lipsticks. "Which one? Berry mauve or muted wine?" he asked. He applied the lipstick like an artist painting on a canvas and then held the little mirror in front of me.
I was human again. A little swollen, but I smelled clean, my hair hung softly over my shoulders and I recognized myself. "What do you think?" he asked. I began to cry again, this time because I was grateful. "No, baby. You'll mess up my makeup job," he said and I burst into laughter.
During that difficult time in our lives, I was given only a 40 percent chance of survival over five years. That was seven years ago. I made it through those years with laughter, God's comfort and the help of my wonderful husband. We will celebrate our nineteenth anniversary this year, and our children are now in their teens. Richard understood what must have seemed like vanity and silliness in the midst of tragedy. Everything I had ever taken for granted had been shaken in those hours - the fact that I would watch my children grow, my health, my future. With one small act of kindness, Richard gave me normalcy. I will always see that moment as one of the most loving gestures of our marriage.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Mathematical Equations
What Equals 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonderabout those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have allbeen in situations where someone wants you to give over 100%. How aboutachieving 101%?What equals 100% in life?Here's a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these.
Questions:
If:A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 2122 23 24 25 26.
Then:
H-A-R-D-W-O-R- K
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%
and
K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%
But,
A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%
AND, look how far the love of God will take you
L- O- V- E-O-F-G-O-D
12+15+22+5+15+6+7+15+4 = 101%
Therefore, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that:
While Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it's the Love of God that will put you over the top!
Have a blessed day! :)
Questions:
If:A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 2122 23 24 25 26.
Then:
H-A-R-D-W-O-R- K
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%
and
K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%
But,
A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%
AND, look how far the love of God will take you
L- O- V- E-O-F-G-O-D
12+15+22+5+15+6+7+15+4 = 101%
Therefore, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that:
While Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it's the Love of God that will put you over the top!
Have a blessed day! :)
Friday, February 1, 2008
Bob Garon's thoughts on forgiveness
One of the more difficult things to do in any relationship is to forgive. Often we are so deeply offended, so hurt that forgiveness becomes a monumental challenge.
It is important to learn how to forgive if one is to keep a lasting relationship. Since we all acknowledge that we are imperfect beings, weare going to make mistakes. And over the years, those mistakes will continue to add up. Unless we are able to forgive, our relationships are in for a rough ride, that is assuming that they last. The problem withnot forgiving is that the anger, bitterness and resentment that the transgressions have caused remain with us until a measure of forgiveness is able to deal with them. He who will not forgive is doomed to carry the effects of the harm done to him for as long as he holds on to his refusal to pardon his offender. The bitterness and anger will remain in his heart and make it that much more difficult to move on.
When you refuse to forgive, you perpetuate the anger within you. Your enemy or he who has hurt you continues to do so long after he has gone out of your life. And there are those among us who refuse to forgive even dead men. This is why the dead continues to haunt you and your hurt stays with your long after your offender has been put into the ground.
To forgive does not mean to forget. It means remembering and letting go."It means cleansing yourself of pain, anger and humiliation. Forgiveness means purifying yourself so you can get on with life," says C. EdwardCrowther. "There is life after forgiveness, and it is a wonderfully goodlife, perhaps better than you've ever know. And this can be true inevery situation, whether you and your partner have resolved yourindifferences and are continuing on a more appropriate and happy relationship path.
"Even when your pain is so intense that you cannot forget, forgiveness is still possible. When you forgive someone who loves you, you send him a strong message of love. You are saying, "my love is greater than your transgression." If your partner is a sincere man and has a lot ofgoodwill, he will feel greatly indebted to you. He will feel your love and this should urge him on to return your love by making amends.
If, however, there is no end to continued offenses, then you must notallow your good will to be abused. If the continued offenses are a real threat to you, you might want to put a limit on the abuses before walking away.
The immature feast on those who endlessly forgive without any sanctionsbeing imposed. Thus, the one always forgiving can become an enabler who perpetuates the negatives even as they destroy the relationship.In such a situation, one can still forgive even if one is not willing to go on indefinitely as the victim of abuse.
It is important to learn how to forgive if one is to keep a lasting relationship. Since we all acknowledge that we are imperfect beings, weare going to make mistakes. And over the years, those mistakes will continue to add up. Unless we are able to forgive, our relationships are in for a rough ride, that is assuming that they last. The problem withnot forgiving is that the anger, bitterness and resentment that the transgressions have caused remain with us until a measure of forgiveness is able to deal with them. He who will not forgive is doomed to carry the effects of the harm done to him for as long as he holds on to his refusal to pardon his offender. The bitterness and anger will remain in his heart and make it that much more difficult to move on.
When you refuse to forgive, you perpetuate the anger within you. Your enemy or he who has hurt you continues to do so long after he has gone out of your life. And there are those among us who refuse to forgive even dead men. This is why the dead continues to haunt you and your hurt stays with your long after your offender has been put into the ground.
To forgive does not mean to forget. It means remembering and letting go."It means cleansing yourself of pain, anger and humiliation. Forgiveness means purifying yourself so you can get on with life," says C. EdwardCrowther. "There is life after forgiveness, and it is a wonderfully goodlife, perhaps better than you've ever know. And this can be true inevery situation, whether you and your partner have resolved yourindifferences and are continuing on a more appropriate and happy relationship path.
"Even when your pain is so intense that you cannot forget, forgiveness is still possible. When you forgive someone who loves you, you send him a strong message of love. You are saying, "my love is greater than your transgression." If your partner is a sincere man and has a lot ofgoodwill, he will feel greatly indebted to you. He will feel your love and this should urge him on to return your love by making amends.
If, however, there is no end to continued offenses, then you must notallow your good will to be abused. If the continued offenses are a real threat to you, you might want to put a limit on the abuses before walking away.
The immature feast on those who endlessly forgive without any sanctionsbeing imposed. Thus, the one always forgiving can become an enabler who perpetuates the negatives even as they destroy the relationship.In such a situation, one can still forgive even if one is not willing to go on indefinitely as the victim of abuse.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
A BABY'S HUG (A Touching Story)
We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking.
Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi." He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.
"Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.
My husband and I exchanged looks as if to say, "What do we do?"
Erik continued to laugh and answer, "Hi." Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.
Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo."
Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed.
We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door.
My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.
The old man sat poised between me and the door.
"Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed.
As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's.
Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship.
Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back.
No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.
He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby."
Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone.
He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain.
I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.
With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me."
I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.
I felt it was God asking, "Are you willing to share your son for a moment?"
when He shared His for all eternity.
The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children."
--author unknown
Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi." He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.
I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.
"Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.
My husband and I exchanged looks as if to say, "What do we do?"
Erik continued to laugh and answer, "Hi." Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.
Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo."
Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed.
We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door.
My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.
The old man sat poised between me and the door.
"Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed.
As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's.
Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship.
Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back.
No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.
He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby."
Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone.
He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain.
I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.
With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me."
I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.
I felt it was God asking, "Are you willing to share your son for a moment?"
when He shared His for all eternity.
The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children."
--author unknown
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Pictures in Amarillo, TX.
These are the pics of the crucifixion of Christ that a man sculptured out of metal near Amarillo, Tx .. The cross is a giant made of metal also. The man did this out of the kindness of his heart. Someone donated the land to him.
How I wish we can be able to visit the place. We might be considering it since we will be in Texas in May. That will be around early summer. God willing :)
How I wish we can be able to visit the place. We might be considering it since we will be in Texas in May. That will be around early summer. God willing :)
Who is Jesus?
HE IS JESUS WHO IS HE?
IN CHEMISTRY, HE TURNED WATER TO WINE.
IN BIOLOGY, HE WAS BORN WITHOUT THE NORMAL CONCEPTION;
IN PHYSICS, HE DISAPPROVED THE LAW OF GRAVITY WHEN HE ASCENDED INTO HEAVEN;
IN ECONOMICS, HE DISAP PROVED THE LAW OF DIMINISHING RETURN BY FEEDING 5000 MEN WITH TWO FISHES & 5 LOAVES OF BREAD;
IN MEDICINE, HE CURED THE SICK AND THE BLIND WITHOUT ADMINISTERING A SINGLE DOSE OF DRUGS,
IN HISTORY, HE IS THE BEGINNING AND THE END;
IN GOVERNMENT, HE SAID THAT HE SHALL BE CALLED WONDERFUL COUNSELOR, PRINCE OF PEACE; IN RELIGION, HE SAID NO ONE COMES TO THE FATHER EXCEPT THROUGH HIM;
IN GOD I'VE FOUND EVERYTHING!
The Greatest Man in History ...
Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.
Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher.
Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.
He had no army, yet kings feared Him..
He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.
He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.
He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.
I feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us!
Saturday, January 26, 2008
A Dad's Story
A very touching story, one of those stories that made me teary eyed.
Isn't it amazing how the Lord would find ways to tell us He is around us with the angels? :) His miracles are still working today, tomorrow, and forever more.
"On July 22nd I was in route to Washington, DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change.
As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if he were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.
As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if he were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.
When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital."
My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this strang er to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.
By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.
The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere.
He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the reliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.
Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms.
[TEAR BREAK...smile]
[TEAR BREAK...smile]
By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine, we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.
In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.
The story is not over (smile)!
Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy.. I have something to tell you." At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear me.. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies' came."
"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"Yes," he replied. "The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"They did?"
"Yes," he said. "One of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you "I got stuck under the door." A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.. "What did the birdies look like?" she asked.
Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white."
"Did they say anything?"
"Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."
"The baby?" my wife asked confused.
Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave."
My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, "Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form..
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"We went on a trip," he said, "far, far away." He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but
finding the words was difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. "And there are lots and lots of birdies."
finding the words was difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. "And there are lots and lots of birdies."
My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the "birdies." He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay.
The story went on for an hour.
The story went on for an hour.
He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much. Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan.. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much."
In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part Of it, again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies.
Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies." Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Isn't it strange?
Isn't it strange how a 100-peso bill seems like such a large amount when you donate it to church, but such a small amount when you go shopping?
Isn't it strange how 2 hours seem so long when you're at church, and how short they seem when you're watching a good movie?
Isn't it strangethat you can't find a word to say when you're praying, but you have no trouble thinking what to talk about with a friend?
Isn't it strange how difficult and boring it is to read one chapter of the Bible, but how easy it is to read 100 pages of a popular novel or ZANE GREY book?
Isn't it strange how everyone wants front-row-tickets to concerts or games, but they do whatever is possible to sit at the last row in Church?
Isn't it strange how we need to know about an event for Church 2-3 weeks before the day so we can include it in our agenda, but we can adjust it for other events at the last minute?
Isn't it strange how difficult it is to learn a fact about God to share it with others, but how easy it is to learn, understand, extend and repeat gossip?
Isn't it strange how we believe everything that magazines and newspapers say, but we question the words in the Bible?
Isn't it strange how everyone wants a place in heaven, but they don't want to believe, do, or say anything to get there?
Isn't it strange how we send jokes in e-mails and they are forwarded right away, but when we are going to send messages about God, we think about it twice before we share it with others?
IT'S STRANGE ISN'T IT?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Encouragement for Today
Little Girl Lost
By Marybeth Whalen
“’Come back, wandering children! I can heal your wanderlust!’
‘We’re here! We’ve come back to you. You’re our own true God!’”
Jeremiah 3:22 (MSG)
Devotion:
This morning I was walking out of the library with my toddler trailing behind me. As I walked through the sliding glass door to the parking lot, I turned to look behind me and my daughter was gone. She had seemingly vanished into thin air. I began to call her name, my eyes darting around from the inside of the library to the parking lot ahead, then back to the corners of the lobby I was standing in. If you have ever lost a child, you know the panicky feeling that instantly wells up in your heart. I rushed back inside the library and asked the librarians if they had seen her come back in. They said no, but one went to look in the children’s section. My heart was racing and my blood pounding as I ran back out to the lobby, calling her name over and over, louder and louder.
“Lord,” I prayed, “please help me find my precious daughter. Please don’t let anything happen to her.” I thought of random scenarios of what could have happened. Every news report I have ever seen, every newspaper article featuring missing children flashed before my eyes. The librarian came out to where I was standing and asked me if I had checked the stairs. I eyed the set of stairs set off to the side of the lobby, reasoning that she wouldn’t go there. It couldn’t hurt to check, I decided. I walked up the stairs and rounded the corner to see that precious little face looking back at me. She was sitting on the stairs the whole time, listening to me call her name in a panic.
I swooped her into my arms and hugged her tightly. “Why didn’t you answer me?” I asked. She looked back at me with her big blue eyes, studying my face like I had lost my mind. To her, she was never lost, just enjoying a new hiding place.
As I have thought of that moment when I knew she was gone, I have pictured her listening to me call to her, but not answering my cries. She had made a wrong turn and was out of my sight. I know all the dangers in the world. I know how careful I must be with my precious child. But she didn’t see the harm in trying out something new, investigating something different.
How many times have I been like my little girl? How many times have I ignored my Father’s voice, choosing my own way instead of answering His call? How many times have I been lost and didn’t even know it? How many times has He sought me out, even when I was unaware of the dangers that were lurking?
We all lose our way. The important part is not that we fall short, but how we respond when we do. Do we cry, “I’m here Daddy! Rescue me!” Or do we try to answer our own questions and solve our own problems? Do we need to rely on God more and ourselves less? Do we need to allow Him to pull us from our hiding place and hear His voice say, “I’ve been looking for you, my precious daughter.” Today I saw myself in my child—in desperate need of being found, of being searched for, of being drawn out of my hiding places, of being protected from the things I foolishly think are safe. Today I saw my Father, so willing to do all those things—to go to the ends of the earth if that is what it takes, to send His own Son to die in my place, to swoop me up into His arms and say, “I am so glad I found you.” It’s good to be found—even when you didn’t know you were lost.
Dear Lord, thank You for searching for me and not giving up when I have been lost but didn’t even realize it. Thank You for calling my name and loving me enough to draw me out of my hiding places. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
Application Steps:
What are your hiding places? Write them down as God brings them to mind. Ask Him to help you stop hiding.
Reflections:
Is there someone in your life who needs you to pray today’s scripture as a promise for their life? Do you need to pray today’s scripture, responding with, “I’m here! I’ve come back. You are my true God”? If so, don’t delay in praying that prayer aloud today.
Power Verses:
Job 28:10-11, “He tunnels through the rock; his eyes see all its treasures. He searches the sources of the rivers and brings hidden things to light.” (NIV)
Psalm 143:9, “Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in you.” (NIV)
Psalm 32:7, “You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.” (NIV)
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Hugs of Encouragement
Will you be hugging people today? Will you be giving smiles, a kind word, or a pat in the back? How many times today will you demonstrate - by your words and your actions - that you are caring person?
You might find it easier to share kind words and heartfelt hugs when you feel happy and secure. But when you are discouraged or tired, it may seem dificult to encourage someone (including yourself.)
According to Anna Quindlen, "Love is not leisure, it is work." So, those days when the dog bites or the bee stings, you should be quick to do the "work" rquired to give-and receive-love. After all, the world still needs the hugs it can get...especially yours.
You might find it easier to share kind words and heartfelt hugs when you feel happy and secure. But when you are discouraged or tired, it may seem dificult to encourage someone (including yourself.)
According to Anna Quindlen, "Love is not leisure, it is work." So, those days when the dog bites or the bee stings, you should be quick to do the "work" rquired to give-and receive-love. After all, the world still needs the hugs it can get...especially yours.
Hebrews 10:24:
...and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds...
Monday, January 14, 2008
John 3:16
The Ultimate Testimony
The church's pastor slowly stood up, walked over to the pulpit and,
before he gave his sermon for the evening, briefly introduced a guest minister
who was in the service that evening.
In the introduction, the pastor told the congregation that the guest minister was
one of his dearest childhood friends and that he wanted him to have a few
moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate
for the service.
With that, an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.
"A father, his son, and a friend of his son were Sailing off the Pacific coast,
" he began, "when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced
sailor, he could not keep the boat upright and the three were swept into the
ocean as the boat capsized."
The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers
who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat
interested in his story. The aged minister continued with his story,
"grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating
decision of his life: To which boy he would throw the other end of the life line.
He only had seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his
decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves.
"As the father yelled out, 'I love you, son!' he threw out the lifeline to his son's
friend. By the time the father had pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his
son had disappeared beneath the raging swells into the black of night. His body
was never recovered."
By this time, the two teenagers were sitting up straight in the pew, anxiously
waiting for the next words to come out of the old man. He continued, "the father
knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus and he could not bear the
thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he sacrificed his son to save the son's friend. How great is the love of God that He
should do the same for us. Our heavenly Father sacrificed His only begotten
Son that we could be saved. I urge you to accept his offer to rescue you and
take a hold of the life line he is throwing out to you in this service."
With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the
room. The pastor again walked slowly to the pulpit and delivered a brief sermon
with an invitation at the end. However, no one responded to the appeal. Within
minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side.
"That was a nice story," politely stated one of the boys, "but I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his only son's life in hopes that the other boy
would become a Christian."
"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing down at his worn
bible. A big smile broadened his narrow face as he once again looked up at the
boys and said, "it sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to
tell you that story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to
give up his son for me. You see---I was that father and your pastor is my son's friend."
Isn't this wonderful!!
The church's pastor slowly stood up, walked over to the pulpit and,
before he gave his sermon for the evening, briefly introduced a guest minister
who was in the service that evening.
In the introduction, the pastor told the congregation that the guest minister was
one of his dearest childhood friends and that he wanted him to have a few
moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate
for the service.
With that, an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.
"A father, his son, and a friend of his son were Sailing off the Pacific coast,
" he began, "when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced
sailor, he could not keep the boat upright and the three were swept into the
ocean as the boat capsized."
The old man hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with two teenagers
who were, for the first time since the service began, looking somewhat
interested in his story. The aged minister continued with his story,
"grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating
decision of his life: To which boy he would throw the other end of the life line.
He only had seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his
decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves.
"As the father yelled out, 'I love you, son!' he threw out the lifeline to his son's
friend. By the time the father had pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his
son had disappeared beneath the raging swells into the black of night. His body
was never recovered."
By this time, the two teenagers were sitting up straight in the pew, anxiously
waiting for the next words to come out of the old man. He continued, "the father
knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus and he could not bear the
thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus. Therefore, he sacrificed his son to save the son's friend. How great is the love of God that He
should do the same for us. Our heavenly Father sacrificed His only begotten
Son that we could be saved. I urge you to accept his offer to rescue you and
take a hold of the life line he is throwing out to you in this service."
With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the
room. The pastor again walked slowly to the pulpit and delivered a brief sermon
with an invitation at the end. However, no one responded to the appeal. Within
minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side.
"That was a nice story," politely stated one of the boys, "but I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his only son's life in hopes that the other boy
would become a Christian."
"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing down at his worn
bible. A big smile broadened his narrow face as he once again looked up at the
boys and said, "it sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to
tell you that story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to
give up his son for me. You see---I was that father and your pastor is my son's friend."
Isn't this wonderful!!
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Reading Meditations
I am currently reading this book from Rick Warren..."God's Answers to Life's Difficult Questions." So far, I think this is his second's best after his famous book Purpose Driven Life, which became #1 all-time best seller.
I like reading this book...due to its clarity and simplicity, obviously for easy understanding. It's actually practical wisdoms that the Bible offers which can make a difference in your life if you apply it.
Above all, the book still encourages you to read your Bible as you go along with the book.
I like reading this book...due to its clarity and simplicity, obviously for easy understanding. It's actually practical wisdoms that the Bible offers which can make a difference in your life if you apply it.
Above all, the book still encourages you to read your Bible as you go along with the book.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Meaning of Christmas.
I got this tag from cel. Thanks sis, kahit na delayed na :)
Make a paragraph or two regarding your personal meaning of Christmas, below the paragraph of the one who tagged you and you may put your name at the end of the paragraph linking back to your blog or right to the post of this particular tag. Then you tag as many as you can.
Start copy here:Christmas for me is the ultimate reminder on how much God loves us, that He gave His only Son Jesus Christ to be our Savior. For me, its a celebration of love and a time to share our blessings to others.. a time for giving and reaching out to the less fortunate and it's also a wonderful time to be with your family. Christmas is not just all about santa claus or the gifts that you will receive or for shopping, we should always remember that Jesus is the reason for the season and let us reflect on how much God loves us. - Just Let Go/Pieces of Me
Christmas is about giving love, forgiving. This remind us how lucky and how God love us when he gave us his only son Jesus Christ. A time for sharing our blessing to our family, friends and to others. - Celebrate Life/My Journey.
Christmas for me is not the new things that we have and enjoying the bounties in life but remembering that someone is born to redeem us from our sins and making sure of our salvation Teebob.
The true meaning of christmas for me is sharing, giving, expressing love to one another, and remebering that there is one person up there, who is born on the 25th of december to save us from everything . A lot of people told me that christmas is for kids. yes, it's true but I prefer to say that christmas is for everybody and sharing love to one another is the keyword remeber, "you can give without loving but you can't love without giving ". Alaverde33
Christmas is an annual holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus. The date of the celebration is traditional and is not considered to be his actual date of birth. Christmas festivities often combine the commemoration of Jesus birth with various secular customs, many of which have been influenced by earlier winter festivals.In most places around the world Christmas day happens on December 25. It's a special time of the year - a season of love and a season of giving. A time to share, to give and of course to receive a wonderful gift from beloved..Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow.
As the word Christmas itself convey, this day is the celebration of Christ. It's his day since this is the day we celebrate his birthday. Everything we do on this day should be in his honor...just like we get the honor when we celebrate our birthdays. So do what you normally do on this day but remember to give the honor to the celebrant himself, Christ. Juliana of Pinay Wahm and Teacher' Corner.
Christmas for me is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. it's also the celebration of love that Jesus Christ spread all over the world by sharing, giving and receiving love from all people of all walks of life. Cecil
Christmas is a day of rejoicing, a day where the most precious gift on earth was given to us by God, and that gift was Jesus. It's the day of sharing not only for material things, but the gift of sharing one's love.
My Blogging Thoughts
I am tagging everybody. Feel free to get the tag gurls. Anyway, it's christmas, everybody should share this to others ;)
Make a paragraph or two regarding your personal meaning of Christmas, below the paragraph of the one who tagged you and you may put your name at the end of the paragraph linking back to your blog or right to the post of this particular tag. Then you tag as many as you can.
Start copy here:Christmas for me is the ultimate reminder on how much God loves us, that He gave His only Son Jesus Christ to be our Savior. For me, its a celebration of love and a time to share our blessings to others.. a time for giving and reaching out to the less fortunate and it's also a wonderful time to be with your family. Christmas is not just all about santa claus or the gifts that you will receive or for shopping, we should always remember that Jesus is the reason for the season and let us reflect on how much God loves us. - Just Let Go/Pieces of Me
Christmas is about giving love, forgiving. This remind us how lucky and how God love us when he gave us his only son Jesus Christ. A time for sharing our blessing to our family, friends and to others. - Celebrate Life/My Journey.
Christmas for me is not the new things that we have and enjoying the bounties in life but remembering that someone is born to redeem us from our sins and making sure of our salvation Teebob.
The true meaning of christmas for me is sharing, giving, expressing love to one another, and remebering that there is one person up there, who is born on the 25th of december to save us from everything . A lot of people told me that christmas is for kids. yes, it's true but I prefer to say that christmas is for everybody and sharing love to one another is the keyword remeber, "you can give without loving but you can't love without giving ". Alaverde33
Christmas is an annual holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus. The date of the celebration is traditional and is not considered to be his actual date of birth. Christmas festivities often combine the commemoration of Jesus birth with various secular customs, many of which have been influenced by earlier winter festivals.In most places around the world Christmas day happens on December 25. It's a special time of the year - a season of love and a season of giving. A time to share, to give and of course to receive a wonderful gift from beloved..Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow.
As the word Christmas itself convey, this day is the celebration of Christ. It's his day since this is the day we celebrate his birthday. Everything we do on this day should be in his honor...just like we get the honor when we celebrate our birthdays. So do what you normally do on this day but remember to give the honor to the celebrant himself, Christ. Juliana of Pinay Wahm and Teacher' Corner.
Christmas for me is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. it's also the celebration of love that Jesus Christ spread all over the world by sharing, giving and receiving love from all people of all walks of life. Cecil
Christmas is a day of rejoicing, a day where the most precious gift on earth was given to us by God, and that gift was Jesus. It's the day of sharing not only for material things, but the gift of sharing one's love.
My Blogging Thoughts
I am tagging everybody. Feel free to get the tag gurls. Anyway, it's christmas, everybody should share this to others ;)
Monday, December 10, 2007
Christmas is calling...
Yes, I am lagging behind. But the good thing is finally, we are back home once again. Now, I got to get something done to keep the christmas spirit come alive inside our home. Of course, I can't do much of it without the help of hubby ;)
We'll gonna have to get the tree up and then the accessories would just keep on coming. Whew! tough job.
We'll gonna have to get the tree up and then the accessories would just keep on coming. Whew! tough job.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
My Birthday is still extended! :)
We were a little bit late for church this morning, but we were glad to see our brothers and sisters in Christ meeting us. It's always a warm welcoming for us.
We love our church, and although we seldom see our church bretherens, and as much as we wanted to see and be with them because of our travels, we both feel with my husband that we are always being blessed to have them. In return of the blessings that we are having, I devoted my time to build our church website, and still am currently the website administrator of the church. It's a service I am doing for the Lord, and no matter how busy I am with some other things I need to do, I still am putting this task among my priorities , one way of serving God.
By the way, if you happen to be on the area, please feel free to visit our church and I can assure you there's a warm welcome waiting for you at the door :)
Here's our church website: Laurel Church of God (Laurel, Maryland)
Feel free to contact the webmaster (me :)) or sign on our guestbook.
Anyway, after the worship service, snacks were provided as usual. I was surprise that they bought a cake for me and everybody was singing for me "happy birthday." I then saw my husband holding the cake for me infront while everybody were singing...I was touched, and was so thankful. I really felt so blessed, and thanking the Lord for giving me another wonderful year of life.
My husband told me, I have a one month birthday celebration, so that means I still have a week for more surprises? LOL!
We love our church, and although we seldom see our church bretherens, and as much as we wanted to see and be with them because of our travels, we both feel with my husband that we are always being blessed to have them. In return of the blessings that we are having, I devoted my time to build our church website, and still am currently the website administrator of the church. It's a service I am doing for the Lord, and no matter how busy I am with some other things I need to do, I still am putting this task among my priorities , one way of serving God.
By the way, if you happen to be on the area, please feel free to visit our church and I can assure you there's a warm welcome waiting for you at the door :)
Here's our church website: Laurel Church of God (Laurel, Maryland)
Feel free to contact the webmaster (me :)) or sign on our guestbook.
Anyway, after the worship service, snacks were provided as usual. I was surprise that they bought a cake for me and everybody was singing for me "happy birthday." I then saw my husband holding the cake for me infront while everybody were singing...I was touched, and was so thankful. I really felt so blessed, and thanking the Lord for giving me another wonderful year of life.
My husband told me, I have a one month birthday celebration, so that means I still have a week for more surprises? LOL!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Praying Is A Must!
Is it just amazing looking at them? Just imagine if all animals are being trained to look up above...and whisper a prayer. That must be great right?
Animals are being put up under the care of human beings because they have limited analytical ability, as they say...on the other side of it, they easily learn what you teach them. Depends on who they are with.
Dogs are easily trained and sociable. Perhaps, being sociable is one good trait they have.
Keep it up doggie!!