A man's daughter had asked the local minister to come and pray with her father. When the minister arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows. An empty chair sat beside his bed.
The minister assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he said. "No, who are you?" said the father.
The minister told him his name and then remarked, "I saw the empty chair and I figured you knew I was going to show up." "Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would you mind closing the door?"
Puzzled, the minister shut the door. "I have never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man. "But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head." I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day four years ago my best friend said to me, "Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here is what I suggest."
"Sit down in a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It's not spooky because he promised, 'I will be with you always'. "Then just speak to him in the same way you're doing with me right now."
"So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I'm careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm."
The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the church.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell the minister that her daddy had died that afternoon.
"Did he die in peace?" he asked.
"Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange about his death. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on the chair beside the bed. What do you make of that?"
The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I wish we could all go like that."
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Car Thief and Answer to Prayer
A woman received a phone call that her daughter was very sick with a fever. She left work and stopped by the pharmacy for some medication for her daughter. When returning to her car to find she had locked her keys inside. She had get home to her sick daughter, and didn't know what to do.
She called her home to the baby sitter, and was told her daughter was getting worse. She said, "You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door." The woman found an old rusty coat hanger on the ground, as if someone else had locked their keys in their car. Then she looked at the hanger and said, "I don't know how to use this." She bowed her head and asked God for help.
An old rusty car pulled up, driven by a dirty, greasy, bearded man with a biker skull rag on his head. The woman thought, "Great God. This is what you sent to help me????" But she was desperate, and thankful. The man got out of his car and asked if he could help. She said "Yes, my daughter is very sick. I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car." He said, "SURE."
He walked over to the car and in seconds the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, "THANK YOU SO MUCH..... You are a very nice man." The man replied, "Lady, I ain't a nice man. I just got out of prison for car theft." The woman hugged the man again and cried out loud.....
THANK YOU GOD FOR SENDING ME A PROFESSIONAL!"
She called her home to the baby sitter, and was told her daughter was getting worse. She said, "You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door." The woman found an old rusty coat hanger on the ground, as if someone else had locked their keys in their car. Then she looked at the hanger and said, "I don't know how to use this." She bowed her head and asked God for help.
An old rusty car pulled up, driven by a dirty, greasy, bearded man with a biker skull rag on his head. The woman thought, "Great God. This is what you sent to help me????" But she was desperate, and thankful. The man got out of his car and asked if he could help. She said "Yes, my daughter is very sick. I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car." He said, "SURE."
He walked over to the car and in seconds the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, "THANK YOU SO MUCH..... You are a very nice man." The man replied, "Lady, I ain't a nice man. I just got out of prison for car theft." The woman hugged the man again and cried out loud.....
THANK YOU GOD FOR SENDING ME A PROFESSIONAL!"
Friday, December 22, 2006
The Tablecloth
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc. and on Dec 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished. On Dec 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high. The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home. On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in.
One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross-embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. She was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home. That was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return. One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety, and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
True Story - submitted by Pastor Rob Reid
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc. and on Dec 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished. On Dec 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high. The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home. On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in.
One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross-embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her face was like a sheet. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. She was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home. That was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return. One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety, and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.
True Story - submitted by Pastor Rob Reid
Monday, December 18, 2006
But Why?
Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here, and drink whatever comes out?"
Who was the first person to say "See that chicken there....I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta it's butt."
Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat?
If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?
Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?
If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of coconut, why can't he fix a hole in a boat?
Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!
What do you call male ballerinas?
If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that Acme crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?
If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?
If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?
Is Disney World the only people trap operated by a mouse?
Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?
Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?
Who was the first person to say "See that chicken there....I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta it's butt."
Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat?
If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?
Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane?
If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of coconut, why can't he fix a hole in a boat?
Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!
What do you call male ballerinas?
If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that Acme crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?
If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?
If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?
Is Disney World the only people trap operated by a mouse?
Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?
Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?
Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?
Friday, December 15, 2006
Be Careful and Watch
Watch your thoughts;
they become words.
Watch your words;
they become actions.
Watch your actions;
they become habits.
Watch your habits;
they become character.
Watch your character;
it becomes your destiny.
-Author Unknown-
they become words.
Watch your words;
they become actions.
Watch your actions;
they become habits.
Watch your habits;
they become character.
Watch your character;
it becomes your destiny.
-Author Unknown-
Thursday, December 07, 2006
12 Days of Christmas
People often think of The Twelve Days of Christmas as the days preceding the festival. Actually, Christmas is a season of the Christian Year that last for 12 days beginning December 25 and lasting until January 6 the Day of Epiphany when the church celebrates the revelation of Christ as the light of the world and recalls the journey of the Magi.
From 1558 until 1829 people in England were not allowed to practice their faith openly. During this era someone wrote 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' as a kind of secret catechism that could be sung in public without risk of persecution. The song has two levels of interpretation: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of the church. Each element in the carol is a code word for a religious reality.
From 1558 until 1829 people in England were not allowed to practice their faith openly. During this era someone wrote 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' as a kind of secret catechism that could be sung in public without risk of persecution. The song has two levels of interpretation: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of the church. Each element in the carol is a code word for a religious reality.
- The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus Christ.
- The two turtledoves are the Old and New Testaments.
- Three French hens stand for faith, hope and love.
- The four calling birds are the four Gospels.
- The five gold rings recall the torah (Law) the first five books of the Bible.
- The six geese a laying stand for the six days of creation.
- Seven swans a swimming represent the sevenfold gifts of the Spirit.
- The eight maids a milking are the eight beatitudes. (Matthew v, 3-12)
- Nine ladies dancing are the nine fruits of the spirit. (Gal.5).
- The ten lords a leaping are the Ten Commandments.
- Eleven pipers piping stand for the eleven faithful disciples.
- Twelve drummers drumming symbolize the 12 points of belief in the Apostles Creed.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
CEO Santa Resigns
The rumor is confirmed. The big guy, CEO of Santa, Inc., has resigned. He will Ho Ho Ho no more, at least, not in any official capacity. Undercover investigators have obtained a journalistic exclusive, a copy of Santa’s shocking resignation letter. Fans of the big elf, read it and weep. –
Editor.
Dear Jesus,
Effectively immediately, I have disbanded the Board of Directors and hereby resign as CEO of Santa, Inc. We are hereby dissolved.
Bluntly, I’ve been a fraud. While we both know December 25th isn’t really your birthday, it was still kind of cool that people took one special day a year to honor you with gifts like those Magi did so long ago. When we started, I simply wanted to honor you, too.
Sure, I started well enough. I just wanted in on the action, blessing kids and all. But you always got the attention. It was all about you! I froze my jolly tail off year after year being your glorified delivery boy and for what? A plate of stale cookies and fighting with cats for an occasional glass of sour milk? My unheated sled wasn’t even equipped with a golden parachute! You try bolting around this miserable little planet dodging jets, terrorist missiles, and slack-jawed hunters drooling the word, "venison!"
The Santa gig got old. Over time, I simply soured inside, and began devising a hostile takeover coup of Christmas. I can admit now. I wanted to be you. I don’t know where I ever picked up a copy of Judas’ bestseller, Religion Your Way but he was my inspiration, my guide for the journey to the dark side of Christmas.
Being CEO of Santa, Inc. was a dream job, at first anyway. I worked a whopping one day a year, did oodles of PR work schmoozing with celebrities, and headed my own private army of displaced mindless munchkins who did my bidding with no union interference. Bill Gates should do as well.
Somehow, I got jealous of all the attention you received. Manny Mammon stepped in and helped engineer our break with you, supplanting you with me as CEO. Funny thing, but for a while our holiday hijacking worked. My name was in lights. Kids read about me, idolized me, and wanted to be me. I was the star of my own Christmas Pageant! But conscience came calling.
One recent Christmas Eve, during the final moments of the pre-launch countdown, I was double-checking my Naughty and Nice lists. Hackers had tried to infiltrate our mainframe and play havoc with the gift list. Our new Anti-CyberTerrorism division intercepted their little ploy and responded with our new "Lump of Coal" hard drive-melting virus. Hey, an elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do.
Anyway, I suddenly remembered that you have the original Master Naught and Nice lists. You really do know who is sleep and who is awake. While it’s part of my corporate vision statement, without your guidance, the truth is I was only guessing. In a moment of blinding clarity, I realized that I screwed the whole Christmas gig up for everyone. It’s not about you anymore. It’s not even about me. It’s about Mammon and Greed and promoting everything I once stood against. I have become what I hated.
I realized which of your lists I was on and began to weep.
I went incognito to the Mall of America and listened to my theme songs droning on and on over the intercom system. I was hoping to hear even one hymn, one song of worship; Silent Night even. Alas, nothing but jungles and reindeer drinking songs. I’m the guy who killed Christmas.
Jesus, I stabbed you in the back and have finally come to see I am not at all a jolly good fellow, but more of a Goodfellow. I’m just a red-suited, black-booted thug. I sinned. Please forgive me.
The reindeer were released back into the wild, which should make those tree-hugging buffoons at PETA rejoice. I’ve subcontracted the elves out to a multi-national conglomerate in Japan.
They rock at making PlayStations. Perhaps I’ll open an Elves Big & Tall Shoppe, or shave and do Sumo wrestling. I don’t know. Somehow, I have to stop the insanity of X-Mas. Any ideas? Is there any way to put Christ back in Christmas? I royally screwed up. Sorry.
Your broken-hearted pal,
Kriss Kringle, a.k.a. Santa Claus
Editor.
Dear Jesus,
Effectively immediately, I have disbanded the Board of Directors and hereby resign as CEO of Santa, Inc. We are hereby dissolved.
Bluntly, I’ve been a fraud. While we both know December 25th isn’t really your birthday, it was still kind of cool that people took one special day a year to honor you with gifts like those Magi did so long ago. When we started, I simply wanted to honor you, too.
Sure, I started well enough. I just wanted in on the action, blessing kids and all. But you always got the attention. It was all about you! I froze my jolly tail off year after year being your glorified delivery boy and for what? A plate of stale cookies and fighting with cats for an occasional glass of sour milk? My unheated sled wasn’t even equipped with a golden parachute! You try bolting around this miserable little planet dodging jets, terrorist missiles, and slack-jawed hunters drooling the word, "venison!"
The Santa gig got old. Over time, I simply soured inside, and began devising a hostile takeover coup of Christmas. I can admit now. I wanted to be you. I don’t know where I ever picked up a copy of Judas’ bestseller, Religion Your Way but he was my inspiration, my guide for the journey to the dark side of Christmas.
Being CEO of Santa, Inc. was a dream job, at first anyway. I worked a whopping one day a year, did oodles of PR work schmoozing with celebrities, and headed my own private army of displaced mindless munchkins who did my bidding with no union interference. Bill Gates should do as well.
Somehow, I got jealous of all the attention you received. Manny Mammon stepped in and helped engineer our break with you, supplanting you with me as CEO. Funny thing, but for a while our holiday hijacking worked. My name was in lights. Kids read about me, idolized me, and wanted to be me. I was the star of my own Christmas Pageant! But conscience came calling.
One recent Christmas Eve, during the final moments of the pre-launch countdown, I was double-checking my Naughty and Nice lists. Hackers had tried to infiltrate our mainframe and play havoc with the gift list. Our new Anti-CyberTerrorism division intercepted their little ploy and responded with our new "Lump of Coal" hard drive-melting virus. Hey, an elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do.
Anyway, I suddenly remembered that you have the original Master Naught and Nice lists. You really do know who is sleep and who is awake. While it’s part of my corporate vision statement, without your guidance, the truth is I was only guessing. In a moment of blinding clarity, I realized that I screwed the whole Christmas gig up for everyone. It’s not about you anymore. It’s not even about me. It’s about Mammon and Greed and promoting everything I once stood against. I have become what I hated.
I realized which of your lists I was on and began to weep.
I went incognito to the Mall of America and listened to my theme songs droning on and on over the intercom system. I was hoping to hear even one hymn, one song of worship; Silent Night even. Alas, nothing but jungles and reindeer drinking songs. I’m the guy who killed Christmas.
Jesus, I stabbed you in the back and have finally come to see I am not at all a jolly good fellow, but more of a Goodfellow. I’m just a red-suited, black-booted thug. I sinned. Please forgive me.
The reindeer were released back into the wild, which should make those tree-hugging buffoons at PETA rejoice. I’ve subcontracted the elves out to a multi-national conglomerate in Japan.
They rock at making PlayStations. Perhaps I’ll open an Elves Big & Tall Shoppe, or shave and do Sumo wrestling. I don’t know. Somehow, I have to stop the insanity of X-Mas. Any ideas? Is there any way to put Christ back in Christmas? I royally screwed up. Sorry.
Your broken-hearted pal,
Kriss Kringle, a.k.a. Santa Claus
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
You Choose How To Start Your Day
Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Michael replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or ... you can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or...I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it.
Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or... I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life. "Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is," Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live your life."
I reflected on what Michael said. Soon hereafter, I left the Tower Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower.
After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.
I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied. "If I were any better, I'd be a twin. Wanna see my scars?"
I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place.
"The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon to be born daughter,
" Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or ...I could choose to die. I chose to live."
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
Michael continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read "he's a dead man. I knew I needed to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Michael. "She asked if I was allergic to anything.
"Yes, I replied." The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, "Gravity."
Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."
Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully.
Attitude, after all, is everything.
Matthew 6:34, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.
Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or... I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life. "Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is," Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live your life."
I reflected on what Michael said. Soon hereafter, I left the Tower Industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
Several years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a communications tower.
After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the hospital with rods placed in his back.
I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied. "If I were any better, I'd be a twin. Wanna see my scars?"
I declined to see his wounds, but I did ask him what had gone through his mind as the accident took place.
"The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of my soon to be born daughter,
" Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or ...I could choose to die. I chose to live."
"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
Michael continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read "he's a dead man. I knew I needed to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Well, there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Michael. "She asked if I was allergic to anything.
"Yes, I replied." The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, "Gravity."
Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."
Michael lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully.
Attitude, after all, is everything.
Matthew 6:34, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
After all today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Happy & Blessed Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving Blessings
I’ve lived a life of ups and downs.
Some years were sparse and lean.
Sickness, death, calamity
It seemed that God was mean.
Some years were sparse and lean.
Sickness, death, calamity
It seemed that God was mean.
But looking back I see His love
Has led me o’er the years
Through days of fun and laughter
Though some were full of tears..
Has led me o’er the years
Through days of fun and laughter
Though some were full of tears..
Today I pause to give Him thanks
My life from hell He raised
And gave me what all men desire
Children that give Him praise
My life from hell He raised
And gave me what all men desire
Children that give Him praise
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A True Friend....
Accepts you as you are
Believes in "you"
Calls you just to say "HI"
Doesn't give up ! ! ! on you
Envisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts)
Forgives your mistakes
Gives unconditionally
Helps you
Invites you over
Just "be" with you
Keeps you close at heart
Loves you for who you are
Makes a difference in your life
Never Judges
Offer support
Picks you up
Quiets your fears
Raises your spirits
Says nice things about you
Tells you the truth when you need to hear it
Understands you
Values you
Walks beside you
X-plains thing you don't understand
Yells when you won't listen and
Zaps you back to reality
Believes in "you"
Calls you just to say "HI"
Doesn't give up ! ! ! on you
Envisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts)
Forgives your mistakes
Gives unconditionally
Helps you
Invites you over
Just "be" with you
Keeps you close at heart
Loves you for who you are
Makes a difference in your life
Never Judges
Offer support
Picks you up
Quiets your fears
Raises your spirits
Says nice things about you
Tells you the truth when you need to hear it
Understands you
Values you
Walks beside you
X-plains thing you don't understand
Yells when you won't listen and
Zaps you back to reality
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
A Child's Ten Commandments For Parents.
1. My hands are small; please don't expect perfection whenever I make a bed, draw a picture or throw a ball. My legs are short; please slow down so that I can keep up with you.2. My eyes have not seen the world as yours have; please let me explore safely. Don't restrict me unnecessarily.
3. Housework will always be there. I'm only little for a short time, please take time to explain things to me about this wonderful world and do so willingly.
4. My feelings are tender; please be sensitive to my needs. Don't nag me all day long. (You wouldn't want to be nagged for your inquisitiveness). Treat me as you would like to be treated.
5. I am a special gift from God; please treasure me as God intended you to do, holding me accountable for my actions, giving me guidelines to live by and disciplining me in a loving manner.
6. I need your encouragement to grow. Please go easy on the criticism; remember, you can criticize the things I do without criticizing me.
7. Please give me the freedom to make decisions concerning myself. Permit me to fail, so that I can learn from my mistakes. Then someday I'll be prepared to make the kinds of decisions that life requires of me.
8. Please don't do things over for me. Somehow that makes me feel that my efforts didn't quite measure up to your expectations. I know it's hard, but please don't try to compare me to my brother or sister.
9. Please don't be afraid to leave for a weekend together. Kids need vacations from parents, just as parents need vacations from kids. Besides, it's a great way to show us kids that your marriage is very special.
10. Please take me to church regularly, setting a good example for me to follow. I enjoy learning more about God.
Can't think of a better reason to "Keep Looking Up". This is a picture of my newest granddaughter born yesterday. Thank you Lord for a healthy little one. I have one who is already 4 years old and another one is due the first of December. As a grandfather my goal is to constantly "look up" for the wisdom to provide a godly example to my grandchildren.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
A Walk In The Rain
She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful brown haired, freckled-faced Image of innocence. Her Mom looked like someone from the Walton's or a moment captured by Norman Rockwell. Not that she was old-fashioned. Her brown hair was ear length with enough curl to appear natural. She had on a pair of tan shorts and light blue knit shirt. Her sneakers were white with a blue trim. She looked like a Mom. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the tops of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the Earth it has no time to flow down the spout. Drains in the nearby parking lot were filled to capacity and some were blocked so that huge puddles made lakes around parked cars. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the WalMart. We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rain fall. I get lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child come pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day. Her voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in. "Mom, let's run through the rain," she said.
"What?" Mom asked.
"Let's run through the rain!" she repeated.
"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.
This young child waited about another minute and repeated her statement.
"Mom. Let's run through the rain."
"We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.
"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.
"This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?"
"Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, "If God can get us through this, He can get us through anything!"
The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say.
Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith."
Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If God lets us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said. Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few believers who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars. Perhaps inspired by their faith and trust. I want to believe that somewhere down the road in life, Mom will find herself reflecting back on moments they spent together, captured like pictures in the scrapbook of her cherished memories.
Maybe when she watches proudly as her daughter graduates. Or as her Daddy walks her down the aisle on her wedding day. She will laugh again. Her heart will beat a little faster. Her smile will tell the world they love each other.
But only two people will share that precious moment when they ran through the rain believing that God would get them through.
And Yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.
To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1
-- Author Unknown
"What?" Mom asked.
"Let's run through the rain!" she repeated.
"No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.
This young child waited about another minute and repeated her statement.
"Mom. Let's run through the rain."
"We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.
"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.
"This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?"
"Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, "If God can get us through this, He can get us through anything!"
The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say.
Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith."
Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If God lets us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said. Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few believers who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars. Perhaps inspired by their faith and trust. I want to believe that somewhere down the road in life, Mom will find herself reflecting back on moments they spent together, captured like pictures in the scrapbook of her cherished memories.
Maybe when she watches proudly as her daughter graduates. Or as her Daddy walks her down the aisle on her wedding day. She will laugh again. Her heart will beat a little faster. Her smile will tell the world they love each other.
But only two people will share that precious moment when they ran through the rain believing that God would get them through.
And Yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.
To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1
-- Author Unknown
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Burning Desire!
A long time ago, a great warrior faced a situation, which made it necessary for him to make a decision that would ensure his success on the battlefield. He was about to send his armies against a powerful foe whose men outnumbered his own. He loaded his soldiers and equipment, then gave the order to burn the ships that had carried them.
Addressing his men before the first battle, he said, "you see the boats going up in smoke. That means we cannot leave these shores alive unless we win! We now have no choice - we win - or we perish." They WON!!!!
Every person who wins in any undertaking must be willing to burn his ships and cut all sources of retreat. Only by doing so can one be sure of maintaining that state of mind known as a burning desire to win, essential to success.
Addressing his men before the first battle, he said, "you see the boats going up in smoke. That means we cannot leave these shores alive unless we win! We now have no choice - we win - or we perish." They WON!!!!
Every person who wins in any undertaking must be willing to burn his ships and cut all sources of retreat. Only by doing so can one be sure of maintaining that state of mind known as a burning desire to win, essential to success.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Life Is The Coffee
A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain-looking, some expensive, and some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee. After all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress."
"Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases, it 's just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups...and then began eyeing each other's cups." " Now consider this: Life is the coffee, and the jobs, houses, cars, things, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define nor change the quality of life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us. God brews the coffee, not the cups ... enjoy your coffee.
"Being happy doesn't mean everything's perfect, It means you've decided to see beyond the imperfections"
Live in peace and peace will live in you
"Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases, it 's just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups...and then began eyeing each other's cups." " Now consider this: Life is the coffee, and the jobs, houses, cars, things, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define nor change the quality of life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us. God brews the coffee, not the cups ... enjoy your coffee.
"Being happy doesn't mean everything's perfect, It means you've decided to see beyond the imperfections"
Live in peace and peace will live in you
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Airflight Comments
All too rarely, airline attendants make an effort to make the in-flight "safety lecture" and their other announcements a bit more entertaining. Here are some real examples that have been heard or reported:
On a Continental Flight with a very "senior" flight attendant staff, The pilot said, "Ladies and
gentlemen, we've reached cruising altitude and I'll be turning down the cabin lights. This is for your comfort and to enhance the appearance of your flight attendants."
"Thank you for flying Delta Business Express. We hope you enjoyed giving us the business as much as we enjoyed taking you for a ride."
After a particularly rough landing during thunderstorms in Memphis, a flight attendant on a Northwest flight announced, "Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, after a landing like that, sure as hell everything has shifted."
From a Southwest Airlines employee: "Welcome aboard Southwest Flight XXX to YYY. To operate your seat belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, And pull tight. It works just like every other seat belt; and, if you don't know how to operate one, you probably shouldn't be out in public unsupervised."
"In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend From the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs. If you are traveling with more than one small child, pick your favorite."
"The weather at our destination is 50 degrees with some broken clouds, but we'll try to have them fixed before we arrive. Thank you, and remember, nobody loves you, or your money, more than Southwest Airlines."
"Your seat cushions can be used for flotation; and in the event of an emergency water landing, please paddle to shore and take them with our compliments."
And from the pilot during his welcome message: "Delta Airlines is pleased to have some of the best flight attendants in the industry. Unfortunately, none of them are on this flight!"
On Southwest Airlines just after a very hard landing in Salt Lake City, the flight attendant came on the intercom and said, "That was quite a bump, and I know what ya'll are thinking. You're thinking that I'm here to tell you it wasn't the airline's fault, it wasn't the pilot's fault, it wasn't the flight attendant's fault ... it was the asphalt!"
Another flight attendant's comment on a less than perfect landing: "We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroo bounces us to the terminal."
An airline pilot had hammered his ship into the runway really hard. The airline had a policy which required him to stand at the door, smile, and give the passengers a "Thanks for flying XYZ airline," while they exited. In light of his bad landing, he had a hard time looking the passengers in the eye, thinking that someone would have a smart comment. Finally everyone had gotten off except for a little old lady walking with a cane. She said, "Sonny, mind if I ask you a question?" "Why no Ma'am," said the pilot. "What is it?" The little old lady said, "Did we land or were we shot down?"
After a real crusher of a landing in Phoenix, the Flight Attendant came on with, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Captain Crash and the crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt against the gate. And, once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we'll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the terminal."
Part of a flight attendant's arrival announcement: "We'd like to thankyou folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you'll think of US Airways."
A plane was taking off from Kennedy Airport. After it reached a comfortable cruising altitude, the captain made an announcement over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to Flight Number 293, nonstop from New York to Los Angeles. The weather ahead is good and, therefore, we should have a smooth and uneventful flight. Now sit back and relax - OH, MY GOD!" Silence followed and after a few minutes, the captain came back on the intercom and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so sorry if I scared you earlier; but, while I was talking, the flight attendant brought me a cup of coffee and spilled the hot coffee in my lap. You should see the front of my pants!" A passenger in Coach was heard to reply, " That's nothing. He should see the back of mine!"
On a Continental Flight with a very "senior" flight attendant staff, The pilot said, "Ladies and
gentlemen, we've reached cruising altitude and I'll be turning down the cabin lights. This is for your comfort and to enhance the appearance of your flight attendants."
"Thank you for flying Delta Business Express. We hope you enjoyed giving us the business as much as we enjoyed taking you for a ride."
After a particularly rough landing during thunderstorms in Memphis, a flight attendant on a Northwest flight announced, "Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, after a landing like that, sure as hell everything has shifted."
From a Southwest Airlines employee: "Welcome aboard Southwest Flight XXX to YYY. To operate your seat belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, And pull tight. It works just like every other seat belt; and, if you don't know how to operate one, you probably shouldn't be out in public unsupervised."
"In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend From the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs. If you are traveling with more than one small child, pick your favorite."
"The weather at our destination is 50 degrees with some broken clouds, but we'll try to have them fixed before we arrive. Thank you, and remember, nobody loves you, or your money, more than Southwest Airlines."
"Your seat cushions can be used for flotation; and in the event of an emergency water landing, please paddle to shore and take them with our compliments."
And from the pilot during his welcome message: "Delta Airlines is pleased to have some of the best flight attendants in the industry. Unfortunately, none of them are on this flight!"
On Southwest Airlines just after a very hard landing in Salt Lake City, the flight attendant came on the intercom and said, "That was quite a bump, and I know what ya'll are thinking. You're thinking that I'm here to tell you it wasn't the airline's fault, it wasn't the pilot's fault, it wasn't the flight attendant's fault ... it was the asphalt!"
Another flight attendant's comment on a less than perfect landing: "We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroo bounces us to the terminal."
An airline pilot had hammered his ship into the runway really hard. The airline had a policy which required him to stand at the door, smile, and give the passengers a "Thanks for flying XYZ airline," while they exited. In light of his bad landing, he had a hard time looking the passengers in the eye, thinking that someone would have a smart comment. Finally everyone had gotten off except for a little old lady walking with a cane. She said, "Sonny, mind if I ask you a question?" "Why no Ma'am," said the pilot. "What is it?" The little old lady said, "Did we land or were we shot down?"
After a real crusher of a landing in Phoenix, the Flight Attendant came on with, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Captain Crash and the crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt against the gate. And, once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we'll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the terminal."
Part of a flight attendant's arrival announcement: "We'd like to thankyou folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you'll think of US Airways."
A plane was taking off from Kennedy Airport. After it reached a comfortable cruising altitude, the captain made an announcement over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to Flight Number 293, nonstop from New York to Los Angeles. The weather ahead is good and, therefore, we should have a smooth and uneventful flight. Now sit back and relax - OH, MY GOD!" Silence followed and after a few minutes, the captain came back on the intercom and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am so sorry if I scared you earlier; but, while I was talking, the flight attendant brought me a cup of coffee and spilled the hot coffee in my lap. You should see the front of my pants!" A passenger in Coach was heard to reply, " That's nothing. He should see the back of mine!"
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Enjoy Life Today!
As we grow up,
we learn that even the one person
that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.
You will have your heart broken
probably more than once
and it's harder every time.
You'll break hearts too,
so remember how it felt
when yours was broken.
You'll fight with your best friend.
You'll blame a new love
for things an old one did.
You'll cry because time is passing too fast,
and you'll eventually lose someone you love.
So take too many pictures,
laugh too much,
and love like you've never been hurt
because every sixty seconds you spend upset
is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.
Don't be afraid that your life will end,
be afraid that it will never begin.
~anonymous~
Monday, November 13, 2006
Did you know?
That Psalm 118 is the middle chapter of the entire Bible?
That before Psalm 118, Psalm 117 is the shortest chapter in the Bible?
That after Psalm 118, Psalm 119 is the longest chapter in the Bible?
That there are 594 chapters both before and following Psalm 118?
That if you add up all the chapters except Psalm 118, you get a total of 1188 chapters.
And that, incidentally, 1188 (or Psalm 118:8) also happens to be the middle verse in the entire Bible?
We would think, therefore, that the central verse in the Bible should have a significant message for us... and indeed it does!
"It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man". Psalm 118:8*
That before Psalm 118, Psalm 117 is the shortest chapter in the Bible?
That after Psalm 118, Psalm 119 is the longest chapter in the Bible?
That there are 594 chapters both before and following Psalm 118?
That if you add up all the chapters except Psalm 118, you get a total of 1188 chapters.
And that, incidentally, 1188 (or Psalm 118:8) also happens to be the middle verse in the entire Bible?
We would think, therefore, that the central verse in the Bible should have a significant message for us... and indeed it does!
"It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man". Psalm 118:8*
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Are There Any Questions?
"Are there any questions?" An offer that comes at the end of college lectures and long meetings. Said when an audience is not only overdosed with information, but when there is no time left anyhow. At times like that you mostly assuredly do have questions. Like, "Can we leave now?" and "What was this meeting scheduled for anyhow?" and "Where can I get a sandwich?" The gesture is supposed to indicate openness on the part of the speaker, I suppose, but if in fact you do ask a question, both the speaker and the audience will give you drop-dead looks. And some fool -- some earnest idiot -- always asks. And the speaker always answers. By repeating most of what he has already said. But if there was ever a little time left and there was a little silence in response to the invitation, I usually asked the most important question of all: "What is the meaning of life?"
You never know -- somebody may have the answer, and I'd really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask. But when I asked, it's was usually taken as a kind of an absurdist move - people laughed and nodded and began to gather up their stuff and the meeting was dismissed on that ridiculous note.
Once, and only once, I asked the question and got a serious answer. One that is with me still. I went to an institute dedicated to Christian understanding and Biblical truth in rural Montana. At the last session on the last morning of a four-day seminar on Christian influence in American culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields, the man heading up the seminar, Dr. Alexander Lapagia rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the river to the iron cross marking a cemetery from the W.W.II era. He turned and made the ritual gesture: "Are there any questions?"
Quiet quilted the room. These four days had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence. "No questions?" Lapagia swept the room with his eyes. So, I asked. "Dr. Lapagia, what is the meaning of life?" The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go. Lapagia held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious, and seeing from my eyes that I was.
"I will answer your question." Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into his leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter. And what he said went like this: "When I was a small child in Italy during World War II, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place. I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone, I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine -- into deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find. I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, however, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of the light. But the light of Jesus -- truth, love, understanding, knowledge -- is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it. I was once a broken shard of mirror whom Christ has shaped into a better tool for shining light. I am a fragment of His mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know.
Nevertheless, with what I have, I can reflect light into the dark places of this world -- into the black places in the hearts of men -- and Jesus can use me to change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life." And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.
Much of what I experienced in the way of information that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still. I can now "reflect" upon what I learned on the meaning of life.
Are there any questions????
You never know -- somebody may have the answer, and I'd really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask. But when I asked, it's was usually taken as a kind of an absurdist move - people laughed and nodded and began to gather up their stuff and the meeting was dismissed on that ridiculous note.
Once, and only once, I asked the question and got a serious answer. One that is with me still. I went to an institute dedicated to Christian understanding and Biblical truth in rural Montana. At the last session on the last morning of a four-day seminar on Christian influence in American culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields, the man heading up the seminar, Dr. Alexander Lapagia rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the river to the iron cross marking a cemetery from the W.W.II era. He turned and made the ritual gesture: "Are there any questions?"
Quiet quilted the room. These four days had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence. "No questions?" Lapagia swept the room with his eyes. So, I asked. "Dr. Lapagia, what is the meaning of life?" The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go. Lapagia held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious, and seeing from my eyes that I was.
"I will answer your question." Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into his leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter. And what he said went like this: "When I was a small child in Italy during World War II, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place. I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone, I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine -- into deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find. I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, however, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of the light. But the light of Jesus -- truth, love, understanding, knowledge -- is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it. I was once a broken shard of mirror whom Christ has shaped into a better tool for shining light. I am a fragment of His mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know.
Nevertheless, with what I have, I can reflect light into the dark places of this world -- into the black places in the hearts of men -- and Jesus can use me to change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life." And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.
Much of what I experienced in the way of information that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still. I can now "reflect" upon what I learned on the meaning of life.
Are there any questions????
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Dear Abby's Top Ten
10. Dear Abby: A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. One is a middle-aged gym teacher, and the other is a social worker in her mid-twenties. These two women go everywhere together, and I've never seen a man go into their apartment or come out. Do you think they could be Lebanese?
9. Dear Abby: What can I do about all the sex, nudity, language and violence on my VCR?
8. Dear Abby: I have a man I never could trust. He cheats so much I'm not even sure this baby I'm carrying is his. What should I do?
7. Dear Abby: I am a twenty-three-year-old liberated woman who has been on the pill for two years. It's getting expensive, and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don't know him well enough to discuss money with him. Should I just keep paying, or do you think he should help share the expense?
6. Dear Abby: I suspected that my husband had been fooling around, and when I confronted him with the evidence, he denied everything and said it would never happen again. What do you think? Can I trust him?
5. Dear Abby: Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy who was raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?
4. Dear Abby: My forty-year-old son has been paying a psychiatrist $100 an hour every week for two-and-a-half years. He must be crazy. Should I tell him so, or keep it to myself?
3. Dear Abby: Do you think it would be all right if I gave my doctor a little gift? I tried for years to get pregnant and couldn't, and he did it!
2. Dear Abby: My mother is mean and short-tempered. I think she is going through her mental pause. How should I handle this?
And the #1 All Time Toughest Question:
Dear Abby: You told some woman whose husband had lost all interest in sex to send him to a doctor. Well, my husband lost all interest in sex years ago, and he is a doctor. What should I do?
9. Dear Abby: What can I do about all the sex, nudity, language and violence on my VCR?
8. Dear Abby: I have a man I never could trust. He cheats so much I'm not even sure this baby I'm carrying is his. What should I do?
7. Dear Abby: I am a twenty-three-year-old liberated woman who has been on the pill for two years. It's getting expensive, and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don't know him well enough to discuss money with him. Should I just keep paying, or do you think he should help share the expense?
6. Dear Abby: I suspected that my husband had been fooling around, and when I confronted him with the evidence, he denied everything and said it would never happen again. What do you think? Can I trust him?
5. Dear Abby: Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy who was raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?
4. Dear Abby: My forty-year-old son has been paying a psychiatrist $100 an hour every week for two-and-a-half years. He must be crazy. Should I tell him so, or keep it to myself?
3. Dear Abby: Do you think it would be all right if I gave my doctor a little gift? I tried for years to get pregnant and couldn't, and he did it!
2. Dear Abby: My mother is mean and short-tempered. I think she is going through her mental pause. How should I handle this?
And the #1 All Time Toughest Question:
Dear Abby: You told some woman whose husband had lost all interest in sex to send him to a doctor. Well, my husband lost all interest in sex years ago, and he is a doctor. What should I do?
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