I just took a leaflet out of my mailbox, informing me that I can have sex at 73. I'm so happy, because I live at number 71. So it's not too far to walk home afterwards. And it's the same side of the street. I don't even have to cross the road
~~~~
Answering machine message, "I am not available right now, but thank you for caring enough to call. I am making some changes in my life. Please leave a message after the beep. If I do not return your call, you are one of the changes."
~~~~
My wife and I had words, but I didn't get to use mine
~~~~~
Frustration is trying to find your glasses without your glasses.
~~~~~
Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting.
~~~~~
The irony of life is that, by the time you're old enough to know your way around, you're not going anywhere.
~~~~~
God made man before woman so as to give him time to think of an answer for her first question.
~~~~~
I was always taught to respect my elders, but it keeps getting harder to find one.
~~~~~
Every morning is the dawn of a new error.
~~~~~
The quote of the month is by Jay Leno:
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"
~~~~~
Aspire to inspire before you expire.
~~~~~
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
A Day At The Supermarket ...
As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car, with the door open. The old man was looking at the engine.
I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away.
I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him.
I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying: "You shouldn't even be allowed to drive a car at your age." And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.
I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine.
He then went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would be okay.
I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, 'Looks like you're having a problem.'
He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head.
I looked under the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me.
Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and I told the old man that I would be right back. I drove to the station and I went inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him.
The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help. As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), spoke with the old gentleman.
When I shook hands with him earlier, he had noticed my Marine Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, 'What outfit did you serve with?'
He had mentioned that he served with the first Marine Division at Tarawa, Saipan, Iwo Jima and Guadalcanal ...
He had hit all the big ones and retired from the Corps after the war was over. As we talked we heard the car engine come on and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card.
He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed had his name and address on it and I stuck it in my pocket. We shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbye's to his wife.
I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me.
One of them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card the old man had given to me. Both of the men told me then that they were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off.
For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: 'Congressional Medal of Honor Society.'
I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence.
Remember, OLD men like him gave you FREEDOM for America.
Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who supported them, and who continue to support them.
America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the Mall.
If you don't stand behind our troops, PLEASE feel free to stand in front of them!
Remember, Freedom IS NOT free. Thousands have paid the price, so you can enjoy what you have today.
LET'S DO THIS - JUST 19 WORDS:
GOD OUR FATHER, WALK THROUGH MY HOUSE AND TAKE AWAY ALL MY WORRIES; AND PLEASE WATCH OVER AND HEAL MY FAMILY; AND PLEASE PROTECT OUR FREEDOMS, AND WATCH OVER OUR TROOPS, ‘WHO ARE DEFENDING THOSE FREEDOMS. AMEN.
I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away.
I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him.
I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying: "You shouldn't even be allowed to drive a car at your age." And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.
I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine.
He then went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would be okay.
I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, 'Looks like you're having a problem.'
He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head.
I looked under the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me.
Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and I told the old man that I would be right back. I drove to the station and I went inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him.
The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help. As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), spoke with the old gentleman.
When I shook hands with him earlier, he had noticed my Marine Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, 'What outfit did you serve with?'
He had mentioned that he served with the first Marine Division at Tarawa, Saipan, Iwo Jima and Guadalcanal ...
He had hit all the big ones and retired from the Corps after the war was over. As we talked we heard the car engine come on and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card.
He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed had his name and address on it and I stuck it in my pocket. We shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbye's to his wife.
I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me.
One of them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card the old man had given to me. Both of the men told me then that they were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off.
For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: 'Congressional Medal of Honor Society.'
I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence.
Remember, OLD men like him gave you FREEDOM for America.
Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who supported them, and who continue to support them.
America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the Mall.
If you don't stand behind our troops, PLEASE feel free to stand in front of them!
Remember, Freedom IS NOT free. Thousands have paid the price, so you can enjoy what you have today.
LET'S DO THIS - JUST 19 WORDS:
GOD OUR FATHER, WALK THROUGH MY HOUSE AND TAKE AWAY ALL MY WORRIES; AND PLEASE WATCH OVER AND HEAL MY FAMILY; AND PLEASE PROTECT OUR FREEDOMS, AND WATCH OVER OUR TROOPS, ‘WHO ARE DEFENDING THOSE FREEDOMS. AMEN.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
DID YOU KNOW ....
1. YOUR SHOES ARE THE FIRST THING PEOPLE SUBCONSCIOUSLY
NOTICE ABOUT YOU … WEAR NICE SHOES.
2. IF YOU SIT FOR MORE THAN 11 HOURS A DAY, THERE'S A 50% CHANCE YOU'LL DIE WITHIN THE NEXT 3 YEARS.
3. THERE ARE AT LEAST 6 PEOPLE IN THE WORLD WHO LOOK EXACTLY LIKE YOU. THERE'S A 9% CHANCE THAT YOU'LL MEET ONE OF THEM IN YOUR LIFETIME.
4. SLEEPING WITHOUT A PILLOW REDUCES BACK PAIN AND KEEPS YOUR SPINE STRONGER.
5. A PERSON’S HEIGHT IS DETERMINED BY THEIR FATHER, AND THEIR WEIGHT IS DETERMINED BY THEIR MOTHER.
6. IF A PART OF YOUR BODY "FALLS ASLEEP",YOU CAN ALMOST ALWAYS "WAKE IT UP" BY SHAKING YOUR HEAD.
7. THERE ARE THREE THINGS THE HUMAN BRAIN CANNOT RESIST NOTICING -FOOD, ATTRACTIVE PEOPLE AND DANGER.
8. RIGHT-HANDED PEOPLE TEND TO CHEW FOOD ON THEIR RIGHT SIDE.
9. PUTTING DRY TEA BAGS IN GYM BAGS OR SMELLY SHOES WILL ABSORB THE UNPLEASANT ODOR.
10. ACCORDING TO ALBERT EINSTEIN, IF HONEY BEES WERE TO DISAPPEAR FROM EARTH, HUMANS WOULD BE DEAD WITHIN 4 YEARS.
11. THERE ARE SO MANY KINDS OF APPLES, THAT IF YOU ATE A NEW ONE EVERYDAY, IT WOULD TAKE OVER 20 YEARS TO TRY THEM ALL.
12. YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT EATING FOR WEEKS, BUT YOU WILL ONLY LIVE 11 DAYS WITHOUT SLEEPING.
13. PEOPLE WHO LAUGH A LOT ARE HEALTHIER THAN THOSE WHO DON’T.
14. LAZINESS AND INACTIVITY KILLS JUST AS MANY PEOPLE AS SMOKING.
15. A HUMAN BRAIN HAS A CAPACITY TO STORE 5 TIMES AS MUCH INFORMATION AS WIKIPEDIA.
16. OUR BRAIN USES THE SAME AMOUNT OF POWER AS A 10-WATT LIGHT BULB!!
17. OUR BODY GIVES ENOUGH HEAT IN 30 MINUTES TO BOIL 1.5 LITERS OF WATER!!
18. THE OVUM EGG IS THE LARGEST CELL AND THE SPERM IS THE SMALLEST CELL!!
19. STOMACH ACID (CONC. HCL) IS STRONG ENOUGH TO DISSOLVE RAZOR BLADES!!
20. TAKE A 10-30 MINUTE WALK EVERY DAY & WHILE YOU WALK, SMILE. IT IS THE ULTIMATE ANTIDEPRESSANT.
21. SIT IN SILENCE FOR AT LEAST 10 MINUTES EACH DAY.
22. WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, PRAY TO ASK GOD'S GUIDANCE FOR YOUR PURPOSE TODAY.
23. EAT MORE FOODS THAT GROW ON TREES AND PLANTS AND EAT LESS FOOD THAT IS MANUFACTURED IN PLANTS.
24. DRINK GREEN TEA AND PLENTY OF WATER. EAT BLUEBERRIES, BROCCOLI, AND ALMONDS.
25. TRY TO MAKE AT LEAST THREE PEOPLE SMILE EACH DAY.
26. DON'T WASTE YOUR PRECIOUS ENERGY ON GOSSIP, ENERGY VAMPIRES, ISSUES OF THE PAST, NEGATIVE THOUGHTS OR THINGS YOU CANNOT CONTROL. INSTEAD INVEST YOUR ENERGY IN THE POSITIVE PRESENT MOMENT.
27. EAT BREAKFAST LIKE A KING, LUNCH LIKE A PRINCE AND DINNER LIKE A COLLEGE KID WITH A MAXED OUT CHARGE CARD.
28. LIFE ISN'T FAIR, BUT IT'S STILL GOOD.
29. LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO WASTE TIME HATING ANYONE. FORGIVE THEM FOR EVERYTHING!
30. DON'T TAKE YOURSELF SO SERIOUSLY. NO ONE ELSE DOES.
31. YOU DON'T HAVE TO WIN EVERY ARGUMENT. AGREE TO DISAGREE.
32. MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR PAST SO IT WON'T SPOIL THE PRESENT.
33. DON'T COMPARE YOUR LIFE TO OTHERS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEIR JOURNEY IS ALL ABOUT.
34. NO ONE IS IN CHARGE OF YOUR HAPPINESS EXCEPT YOU.
35. FRAME EVERY SO-CALLED DISASTER WITH THESE WORDS: 'IN FIVE YEARS, WILL THIS MATTER?'
36. HELP THE NEEDY! BE GENEROUS! BE A 'GIVER' NOT A 'TAKER'.
37. WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF YOU IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.
38. TIME HEALS EVERYTHING.
39. HOWEVER GOOD OR BAD A SITUATION IS, IT WILL CHANGE.
40. YOUR JOB WON'T TAKE CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU ARE SICK. YOUR FRIENDS WILL ... STAY IN TOUCH.
41. ENVY IS A WASTE OF TIME. YOU ALREADY HAVE ALL YOU NEED.
42. EACH NIGHT BEFORE YOU GO TO BED, PRAY TO GOD AND BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT YOU'LL ACCOMPLISH, TODAY !
43. REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE TOO BLESSED TO BE STRESSED.
2. IF YOU SIT FOR MORE THAN 11 HOURS A DAY, THERE'S A 50% CHANCE YOU'LL DIE WITHIN THE NEXT 3 YEARS.
3. THERE ARE AT LEAST 6 PEOPLE IN THE WORLD WHO LOOK EXACTLY LIKE YOU. THERE'S A 9% CHANCE THAT YOU'LL MEET ONE OF THEM IN YOUR LIFETIME.
4. SLEEPING WITHOUT A PILLOW REDUCES BACK PAIN AND KEEPS YOUR SPINE STRONGER.
5. A PERSON’S HEIGHT IS DETERMINED BY THEIR FATHER, AND THEIR WEIGHT IS DETERMINED BY THEIR MOTHER.
6. IF A PART OF YOUR BODY "FALLS ASLEEP",YOU CAN ALMOST ALWAYS "WAKE IT UP" BY SHAKING YOUR HEAD.
7. THERE ARE THREE THINGS THE HUMAN BRAIN CANNOT RESIST NOTICING -FOOD, ATTRACTIVE PEOPLE AND DANGER.
8. RIGHT-HANDED PEOPLE TEND TO CHEW FOOD ON THEIR RIGHT SIDE.
9. PUTTING DRY TEA BAGS IN GYM BAGS OR SMELLY SHOES WILL ABSORB THE UNPLEASANT ODOR.
10. ACCORDING TO ALBERT EINSTEIN, IF HONEY BEES WERE TO DISAPPEAR FROM EARTH, HUMANS WOULD BE DEAD WITHIN 4 YEARS.
11. THERE ARE SO MANY KINDS OF APPLES, THAT IF YOU ATE A NEW ONE EVERYDAY, IT WOULD TAKE OVER 20 YEARS TO TRY THEM ALL.
12. YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT EATING FOR WEEKS, BUT YOU WILL ONLY LIVE 11 DAYS WITHOUT SLEEPING.
13. PEOPLE WHO LAUGH A LOT ARE HEALTHIER THAN THOSE WHO DON’T.
14. LAZINESS AND INACTIVITY KILLS JUST AS MANY PEOPLE AS SMOKING.
15. A HUMAN BRAIN HAS A CAPACITY TO STORE 5 TIMES AS MUCH INFORMATION AS WIKIPEDIA.
16. OUR BRAIN USES THE SAME AMOUNT OF POWER AS A 10-WATT LIGHT BULB!!
17. OUR BODY GIVES ENOUGH HEAT IN 30 MINUTES TO BOIL 1.5 LITERS OF WATER!!
18. THE OVUM EGG IS THE LARGEST CELL AND THE SPERM IS THE SMALLEST CELL!!
19. STOMACH ACID (CONC. HCL) IS STRONG ENOUGH TO DISSOLVE RAZOR BLADES!!
20. TAKE A 10-30 MINUTE WALK EVERY DAY & WHILE YOU WALK, SMILE. IT IS THE ULTIMATE ANTIDEPRESSANT.
21. SIT IN SILENCE FOR AT LEAST 10 MINUTES EACH DAY.
22. WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, PRAY TO ASK GOD'S GUIDANCE FOR YOUR PURPOSE TODAY.
23. EAT MORE FOODS THAT GROW ON TREES AND PLANTS AND EAT LESS FOOD THAT IS MANUFACTURED IN PLANTS.
24. DRINK GREEN TEA AND PLENTY OF WATER. EAT BLUEBERRIES, BROCCOLI, AND ALMONDS.
25. TRY TO MAKE AT LEAST THREE PEOPLE SMILE EACH DAY.
26. DON'T WASTE YOUR PRECIOUS ENERGY ON GOSSIP, ENERGY VAMPIRES, ISSUES OF THE PAST, NEGATIVE THOUGHTS OR THINGS YOU CANNOT CONTROL. INSTEAD INVEST YOUR ENERGY IN THE POSITIVE PRESENT MOMENT.
27. EAT BREAKFAST LIKE A KING, LUNCH LIKE A PRINCE AND DINNER LIKE A COLLEGE KID WITH A MAXED OUT CHARGE CARD.
28. LIFE ISN'T FAIR, BUT IT'S STILL GOOD.
29. LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO WASTE TIME HATING ANYONE. FORGIVE THEM FOR EVERYTHING!
30. DON'T TAKE YOURSELF SO SERIOUSLY. NO ONE ELSE DOES.
31. YOU DON'T HAVE TO WIN EVERY ARGUMENT. AGREE TO DISAGREE.
32. MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR PAST SO IT WON'T SPOIL THE PRESENT.
33. DON'T COMPARE YOUR LIFE TO OTHERS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEIR JOURNEY IS ALL ABOUT.
34. NO ONE IS IN CHARGE OF YOUR HAPPINESS EXCEPT YOU.
35. FRAME EVERY SO-CALLED DISASTER WITH THESE WORDS: 'IN FIVE YEARS, WILL THIS MATTER?'
36. HELP THE NEEDY! BE GENEROUS! BE A 'GIVER' NOT A 'TAKER'.
37. WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF YOU IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.
38. TIME HEALS EVERYTHING.
39. HOWEVER GOOD OR BAD A SITUATION IS, IT WILL CHANGE.
40. YOUR JOB WON'T TAKE CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU ARE SICK. YOUR FRIENDS WILL ... STAY IN TOUCH.
41. ENVY IS A WASTE OF TIME. YOU ALREADY HAVE ALL YOU NEED.
42. EACH NIGHT BEFORE YOU GO TO BED, PRAY TO GOD AND BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT YOU'LL ACCOMPLISH, TODAY !
43. REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE TOO BLESSED TO BE STRESSED.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The Pastor's Son
The Pastor's Son
Source: Email contribution
Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside, as well as pouring rain.
The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said, 'OK, dad, I'm ready.'
His Pastor dad asked, 'Ready for what?'
'Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out.'
Dad responds, 'Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring rain.'
The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, 'But Dad, aren't people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?'
Dad answers, 'Son, I am not going out in this weather.'
Despondently, the boy asks, 'Dad, can I go? Please?'
His father hesitated for a moment then said, 'Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, be careful son..'
'Thanks Dad!'
And with that, he was off and out into the rain.. This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract .
After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were totally deserted.
Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell, but nobody answered.
He rang it again and again, but still no one answered. He waited but still no answer.
Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him.
Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch!
He rang again and this time the door slowly opened.
Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked, 'What can I do for you, son?' With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said, 'Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that * JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU * and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE.'
With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave.
She called to him as he departed. 'Thank you, son! And God Bless You!'
Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, 'Does anybody have testimony or want to say anything?'
Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet.
As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face, 'No one in this church knows me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live.
So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and broken-hearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought, 'I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.'
I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly...
I thought to myself again, 'Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.' I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder.
When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I could never describe it to you!
The words that came from his mouth caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, 'Ma'am, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU .' Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand..
As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them any more.
You see-- -I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in hell..'
There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated....
He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.
Probably no church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his son.... Except for One.
Blessed are your eyes for reading this message.
Don't let this message die, read it again and pass it to others. Heaven is for His people!
Remember, God's message CAN make the difference in the life of someone close to you.
Please share this wonderful message...
If you love JESUS, please forward this message.
Spread His word, and share His goodness and faithfulness.
Matthew 10:32 says:
'Whoever acknowledges Me before men, I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven. But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown him before My Father in heaven '
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside, as well as pouring rain.
The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said, 'OK, dad, I'm ready.'
His Pastor dad asked, 'Ready for what?'
'Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out.'
Dad responds, 'Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring rain.'
The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, 'But Dad, aren't people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?'
Dad answers, 'Son, I am not going out in this weather.'
Despondently, the boy asks, 'Dad, can I go? Please?'
His father hesitated for a moment then said, 'Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, be careful son..'
'Thanks Dad!'
And with that, he was off and out into the rain.. This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract .
After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were totally deserted.
Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell, but nobody answered.
He rang it again and again, but still no one answered. He waited but still no answer.
Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him.
Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch!
He rang again and this time the door slowly opened.
Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked, 'What can I do for you, son?' With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said, 'Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that * JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU * and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE.'
With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave.
She called to him as he departed. 'Thank you, son! And God Bless You!'
Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, 'Does anybody have testimony or want to say anything?'
Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet.
As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face, 'No one in this church knows me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live.
So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and broken-hearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought, 'I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.'
I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly...
I thought to myself again, 'Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.' I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder.
When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I could never describe it to you!
The words that came from his mouth caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, 'Ma'am, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU .' Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand..
As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them any more.
You see-- -I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in hell..'
There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated....
He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.
Probably no church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his son.... Except for One.
Blessed are your eyes for reading this message.
Don't let this message die, read it again and pass it to others. Heaven is for His people!
Remember, God's message CAN make the difference in the life of someone close to you.
Please share this wonderful message...
If you love JESUS, please forward this message.
Spread His word, and share His goodness and faithfulness.
Matthew 10:32 says:
'Whoever acknowledges Me before men, I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven. But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown him before My Father in heaven '
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Monday, January 17, 2011
Woman and a Fork
Woman and a Fork
Source: Email contribution
There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live.
So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
'There's one more thing,' she said excitedly.
'What's that?' came the Pastor's reply.
'This is very important,' the young woman continued. 'I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.'
The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
That surprises you, doesn't it?' the young woman asked.
'Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request,' said the Pastor.
The young woman explained. 'My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement.
In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.'
It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming ... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie.
Something wonderful ... and with substance!'
So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them, 'Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come.'
The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye.
He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death.
But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.
She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge.
She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand.
Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, 'What's with the fork?' And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died.
He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her.
He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.
Friends are a very rare jewel indeed.
They make you smile and encourage you to succeed Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share ... being friends with someone is not an opportunity, but a sweet responsibility.
And just remember...keep your fork!
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live.
So as she was getting her things 'in order,' she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
'There's one more thing,' she said excitedly.
'What's that?' came the Pastor's reply.
'This is very important,' the young woman continued. 'I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.'
The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
That surprises you, doesn't it?' the young woman asked.
'Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request,' said the Pastor.
The young woman explained. 'My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement.
In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.'
It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming ... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie.
Something wonderful ... and with substance!'
So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them, 'Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come.'
The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye.
He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death.
But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.
She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge.
She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand.
Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, 'What's with the fork?' And over and over he smiled.
During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died.
He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her.
He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.
Friends are a very rare jewel indeed.
They make you smile and encourage you to succeed Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share ... being friends with someone is not an opportunity, but a sweet responsibility.
And just remember...keep your fork!
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Pickle Jar
The Pickle Jar
Source: Email contribution
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.
As a small boy, I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar to admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.
Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.
Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.'
Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. 'These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.'
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. 'When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.' He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. 'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,' he said. 'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.'
No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.
To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me 'When you finish college, Son,' he told me, his eyes glistening, 'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.'
The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.
A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood.. My dad was a man of few words: he never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.
When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. 'She probably needs to be changed,' she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.
She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. 'Look,' she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser.
To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.
With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.
God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for GOOD in others.
The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller
- Happy moments, praise God.
- Difficult moments, seek God.
- Quiet moments, worship God.
- Painful moments, trust God.
- Every moment, thank God.
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.
As a small boy, I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar to admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.
Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.
Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.'
Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. 'These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.'
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. 'When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.' He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. 'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,' he said. 'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.'
No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.
To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me 'When you finish college, Son,' he told me, his eyes glistening, 'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.'
The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.
A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood.. My dad was a man of few words: he never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.
When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. 'She probably needs to be changed,' she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.
She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. 'Look,' she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser.
To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.
With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.
God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for GOOD in others.
The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller
- Happy moments, praise God.
- Difficult moments, seek God.
- Quiet moments, worship God.
- Painful moments, trust God.
- Every moment, thank God.
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Monday, October 12, 2009
Cows, The Constitution and The Ten Commandments
Cows, The Constitution and The Ten Commandments
Source: Email contribution
------------------------------------------------------------------------
COWS
Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington ?
And, they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CONSTITUTION
They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq .... Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it has worked for over 200 years, and we're not using it anymore.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE 10 COMMANDMENTS
The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse or Congress is this:
You cannot post Thou Shall Not Steal, Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery and Thou Shall Not Lie in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians .... It creates a hostile work environment.
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
------------------------------------------------------------------------
COWS
Is it just me, or does anyone else find it amazing that during the mad cow epidemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost three years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington ?
And, they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they are unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around our country. Maybe we should give each of them a cow.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CONSTITUTION
They keep talking about drafting a Constitution for Iraq .... Why don't we just give them ours? It was written by a lot of really smart guys, it has worked for over 200 years, and we're not using it anymore.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE 10 COMMANDMENTS
The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments posted in a courthouse or Congress is this:
You cannot post Thou Shall Not Steal, Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery and Thou Shall Not Lie in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians .... It creates a hostile work environment.
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Friday, March 20, 2009
I’m Tired
I’m Tired by Robert A. Hall
Source: Email contribution
I’ll be 63 soon. Except for one semester in college when jobs were scarce, and a six-month period when I was between jobs, but job-hunting every day, I’ve worked, hard, since I was 18. Despite some health challenges, I still put in 50-hour weeks, and haven’t called in sick in seven or eight years. I make a good salary, but I didn’t inherit my job or my income, and I worked to get where I am. Given the economy, there’s no retirement in sight, and I’m tired. Very tired.
I’m tired of being told that I have to “spread the wealth around” to people who don’t have my work ethic. I’m tired of being told the government will take the money I earned, by force if necessary, and give it to people too lazy or stupid to earn it.
I’m tired of being told that I have to pay more taxes to “keep people in their homes.” Sure, if they lost their jobs or got sick, I’m willing to help. But if they bought McMansions at three times the price of our paid-off, $250,000 condo, on one-third of my salary, then let the leftwing Congresscritters who passed Fannie and Freddie and the Community Reinvestment Act that created the bubble help them—with their own money.
I’m tired of being told how bad America is by leftwing millionaires like Michael Moore, George Soros and Hollywood entertainers who live in luxury because of the opportunities America offers. In thirty years, if they get their way, the United States will have the religious freedom and women’s rights of Saudi Arabia, the economy of Zimbabwe, the freedom of the press of China, the crime and violence of Mexico, the tolerance for Gay people of Iran, and the freedom of speech of Venezuela. Won’t multiculturalism be beautiful?
I’m tired of being told that Islam is a “Religion of Peace,” when every day I can read dozens of stories of Muslim men killing their sisters, wives and daughters for their family “honor;” of Muslims rioting over some slight offense; of Muslims murdering Christian and Jews because they aren’t “believers;” of Muslims burning schools for girls; of Muslims stoning teenage rape victims to death for “adultery;” of Muslims mutilating the genitals of little girls; all in the name of Allah, because the Qur’an and Shari’a law tells them to.
I believe “a man should be judged by the content of his character, not by the color of his skin.” I’m tired of being told that “race doesn’t matter” in the post-racial world of President Obama, when it’s all that matters in affirmative action jobs, lower college admission and graduation standards for minorities (harming them the most), government contract set-asides, tolerance for the ghetto culture of violence and fatherless children that hurts minorities more than anyone, and in the appointment of US Senators from Illinois. I think it’s very cool that we have a black president and that a black child is doing her homework at the desk where Lincoln wrote the emancipation proclamation. I just wish the black president was Condi Rice, or someone who believes more in freedom and the individual and less in an all-knowing government.
I’m tired of a news media that thinks Bush’s fundraising and inaugural expenses were obscene, but that think Obama’s, at triple the cost, were wonderful. That thinks Bush exercising daily was a waste of presidential time, but Obama exercising is a great example for the public to control weight and stress, that picked over every line of Bush’s military records, but never demanded that Kerry release his, that slammed Palin with two years as governor for being too inexperienced for VP, but touted Obama with three years as senator as potentially the best president ever.
Wonder why people are dropping their magazine subscriptions or switching to Fox News? Get a clue. I didn’t vote for Bush in 2000, but the media and Kerry drove me to his camp in 2004..
I’m tired of being told that out of “tolerance for other cultures” we must let Saudi Arabia use our oil money to fund mosques and madrassa Islamic schools to preach hate in America , while no American group is allowed to fund a church, synagogue or religious school in Saudi Arabia to teach love and tolerance.
I’m tired of being told I must lower my living standard to fight global warming, which NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO DEBATE. My wife and I live in a two-bedroom apartment and carpool together five miles to our jobs. We also own a three-bedroom condo where our daughter and granddaughter live. Our carbon footprint is about 5% of Al Gore’s, and if you’re greener than Gore, you’re green enough.
I’m tired of being told that drug addicts have a disease, and I must help support and treat them, and pay for the damage they do. Did a giant germ rush out of a dark alley, grab them, and stuff white powder up their noses while they tried to fight it off? I don’t think Gay people choose to be Gay, but I damn sure think druggies chose to take drugs. And I’m tired of harassment from cool people treating me like a freak when I tell them I never tried marijuana.
I’m tired of illegal aliens being called “undocumented workers,” especially the ones who aren’t working, but are living on welfare or crime. What’s next? Calling drug dealers, “Undocumented Pharmacists”? And, no, I’m not against Hispanics. Most of them are Catholic and it’s been a few hundred years since Catholics wanted to kill me for my religion. I’m willing to fast track for citizenship any Hispanic person who can speak English, doesn’t have a criminal record and who is self-supporting without family on welfare, or who serves honorably for three years in our military. Those are the citizens we need..
I’m tired of latte liberals and journalists, who would never wear the uniform of the Republic themselves, or let their entitlement-handicapped kids near a recruiting station, trashing our military. They and their kids can sit at home, never having to make split-second decisions under life and death circumstances, and bad mouth better people then themselves. Do bad things happen in war? You bet. Do our troops sometimes misbehave? Sure. Does this compare with the atrocities that were the policy of our enemies for the last fifty years—and still are? Not even close. So here’s the deal. I’ll let myself be subjected to all the humiliation and abuse that was heaped on terrorists at Abu Ghraib or Gitmo, and the critics can let themselves be subject to captivity by the Muslims who tortured and beheaded Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, or the Muslims who tortured and murdered Marine Lt. Col. William Higgins in Lebanon, or the Muslims who ran the blood-spattered Al Qaeda torture rooms our troops found in Iraq, or the Muslims who cut off the heads of schoolgirls in Indonesia, because the girls were Christian. Then we’ll compare notes. British and American soldiers are the only troops in history that civilians came to for help and handouts, instead of hiding from in fear.
I’m tired of people telling me that their party has a corner on virtue and the other party has a corner on corruption. Read the papers—bums are bi-partisan. And I’m tired of people telling me we need bi-partisanship. I live in Illinois , where the “ Illinois Combine” of Democrats and Republicans has worked together harmoniously to loot the public for years. And I notice that the tax cheats in Obama’s cabinet are bi-partisan as well.
I’m tired of hearing wealthy athletes, entertainers and politicians of both parties talking about innocent mistakes, stupid mistakes or youthful mistakes, when we all know they think their only mistake was getting caught. I’m tired of people with a sense of entitlement, rich or poor.
Speaking of poor, I’m tired of hearing people with air-conditioned homes, color TVs and two cars called poor. The majority of Americans didn’t have that in 1970, but we didn’t know we were “poor.” The poverty pimps have to keep changing the definition of poor to keep the dollars flowing.
I’m real tired of people who don’t take responsibility for their lives and actions. I’m tired of hearing them blame the government, or discrimination, or big-whatever for their problems.
Yes, I’m damn tired. But I’m also glad to be 63. Because, mostly, I’m not going to get to see the world these people are making. I’m just sorry for my granddaughter.
Robert A. Hall is a Marine Vietnam veteran who served five terms in the Massachusetts state senate. He blogs at www.tartanmarine.blogspot.com
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
I’ll be 63 soon. Except for one semester in college when jobs were scarce, and a six-month period when I was between jobs, but job-hunting every day, I’ve worked, hard, since I was 18. Despite some health challenges, I still put in 50-hour weeks, and haven’t called in sick in seven or eight years. I make a good salary, but I didn’t inherit my job or my income, and I worked to get where I am. Given the economy, there’s no retirement in sight, and I’m tired. Very tired.
I’m tired of being told that I have to “spread the wealth around” to people who don’t have my work ethic. I’m tired of being told the government will take the money I earned, by force if necessary, and give it to people too lazy or stupid to earn it.
I’m tired of being told that I have to pay more taxes to “keep people in their homes.” Sure, if they lost their jobs or got sick, I’m willing to help. But if they bought McMansions at three times the price of our paid-off, $250,000 condo, on one-third of my salary, then let the leftwing Congresscritters who passed Fannie and Freddie and the Community Reinvestment Act that created the bubble help them—with their own money.
I’m tired of being told how bad America is by leftwing millionaires like Michael Moore, George Soros and Hollywood entertainers who live in luxury because of the opportunities America offers. In thirty years, if they get their way, the United States will have the religious freedom and women’s rights of Saudi Arabia, the economy of Zimbabwe, the freedom of the press of China, the crime and violence of Mexico, the tolerance for Gay people of Iran, and the freedom of speech of Venezuela. Won’t multiculturalism be beautiful?
I’m tired of being told that Islam is a “Religion of Peace,” when every day I can read dozens of stories of Muslim men killing their sisters, wives and daughters for their family “honor;” of Muslims rioting over some slight offense; of Muslims murdering Christian and Jews because they aren’t “believers;” of Muslims burning schools for girls; of Muslims stoning teenage rape victims to death for “adultery;” of Muslims mutilating the genitals of little girls; all in the name of Allah, because the Qur’an and Shari’a law tells them to.
I believe “a man should be judged by the content of his character, not by the color of his skin.” I’m tired of being told that “race doesn’t matter” in the post-racial world of President Obama, when it’s all that matters in affirmative action jobs, lower college admission and graduation standards for minorities (harming them the most), government contract set-asides, tolerance for the ghetto culture of violence and fatherless children that hurts minorities more than anyone, and in the appointment of US Senators from Illinois. I think it’s very cool that we have a black president and that a black child is doing her homework at the desk where Lincoln wrote the emancipation proclamation. I just wish the black president was Condi Rice, or someone who believes more in freedom and the individual and less in an all-knowing government.
I’m tired of a news media that thinks Bush’s fundraising and inaugural expenses were obscene, but that think Obama’s, at triple the cost, were wonderful. That thinks Bush exercising daily was a waste of presidential time, but Obama exercising is a great example for the public to control weight and stress, that picked over every line of Bush’s military records, but never demanded that Kerry release his, that slammed Palin with two years as governor for being too inexperienced for VP, but touted Obama with three years as senator as potentially the best president ever.
Wonder why people are dropping their magazine subscriptions or switching to Fox News? Get a clue. I didn’t vote for Bush in 2000, but the media and Kerry drove me to his camp in 2004..
I’m tired of being told that out of “tolerance for other cultures” we must let Saudi Arabia use our oil money to fund mosques and madrassa Islamic schools to preach hate in America , while no American group is allowed to fund a church, synagogue or religious school in Saudi Arabia to teach love and tolerance.
I’m tired of being told I must lower my living standard to fight global warming, which NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO DEBATE. My wife and I live in a two-bedroom apartment and carpool together five miles to our jobs. We also own a three-bedroom condo where our daughter and granddaughter live. Our carbon footprint is about 5% of Al Gore’s, and if you’re greener than Gore, you’re green enough.
I’m tired of being told that drug addicts have a disease, and I must help support and treat them, and pay for the damage they do. Did a giant germ rush out of a dark alley, grab them, and stuff white powder up their noses while they tried to fight it off? I don’t think Gay people choose to be Gay, but I damn sure think druggies chose to take drugs. And I’m tired of harassment from cool people treating me like a freak when I tell them I never tried marijuana.
I’m tired of illegal aliens being called “undocumented workers,” especially the ones who aren’t working, but are living on welfare or crime. What’s next? Calling drug dealers, “Undocumented Pharmacists”? And, no, I’m not against Hispanics. Most of them are Catholic and it’s been a few hundred years since Catholics wanted to kill me for my religion. I’m willing to fast track for citizenship any Hispanic person who can speak English, doesn’t have a criminal record and who is self-supporting without family on welfare, or who serves honorably for three years in our military. Those are the citizens we need..
I’m tired of latte liberals and journalists, who would never wear the uniform of the Republic themselves, or let their entitlement-handicapped kids near a recruiting station, trashing our military. They and their kids can sit at home, never having to make split-second decisions under life and death circumstances, and bad mouth better people then themselves. Do bad things happen in war? You bet. Do our troops sometimes misbehave? Sure. Does this compare with the atrocities that were the policy of our enemies for the last fifty years—and still are? Not even close. So here’s the deal. I’ll let myself be subjected to all the humiliation and abuse that was heaped on terrorists at Abu Ghraib or Gitmo, and the critics can let themselves be subject to captivity by the Muslims who tortured and beheaded Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, or the Muslims who tortured and murdered Marine Lt. Col. William Higgins in Lebanon, or the Muslims who ran the blood-spattered Al Qaeda torture rooms our troops found in Iraq, or the Muslims who cut off the heads of schoolgirls in Indonesia, because the girls were Christian. Then we’ll compare notes. British and American soldiers are the only troops in history that civilians came to for help and handouts, instead of hiding from in fear.
I’m tired of people telling me that their party has a corner on virtue and the other party has a corner on corruption. Read the papers—bums are bi-partisan. And I’m tired of people telling me we need bi-partisanship. I live in Illinois , where the “ Illinois Combine” of Democrats and Republicans has worked together harmoniously to loot the public for years. And I notice that the tax cheats in Obama’s cabinet are bi-partisan as well.
I’m tired of hearing wealthy athletes, entertainers and politicians of both parties talking about innocent mistakes, stupid mistakes or youthful mistakes, when we all know they think their only mistake was getting caught. I’m tired of people with a sense of entitlement, rich or poor.
Speaking of poor, I’m tired of hearing people with air-conditioned homes, color TVs and two cars called poor. The majority of Americans didn’t have that in 1970, but we didn’t know we were “poor.” The poverty pimps have to keep changing the definition of poor to keep the dollars flowing.
I’m real tired of people who don’t take responsibility for their lives and actions. I’m tired of hearing them blame the government, or discrimination, or big-whatever for their problems.
Yes, I’m damn tired. But I’m also glad to be 63. Because, mostly, I’m not going to get to see the world these people are making. I’m just sorry for my granddaughter.
Robert A. Hall is a Marine Vietnam veteran who served five terms in the Massachusetts state senate. He blogs at www.tartanmarine.blogspot.com
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Friday, February 27, 2009
Billy Graham's prayer
Billy Graham's prayer
Source: Email contribution
Billy Graham's prayer aired by Paul Harvey............................
THIS GUY SURE HAS A GOOD VIEW OF WHAT'S HAPPENING TO THIS COUNTRY!
'Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and
to seek your direction and guidance.
We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done.
We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem.
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it
enlightenment.
Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and Set us free. Amen!'
Commentator Paul Harvey aired this prayer on his radio program, 'The Rest of the Story,' and received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired. With the Lord's help, may this prayer sweep over our nation and wholeheartedly become our desire so that we again can be called 'One nation under God.'
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
Billy Graham's prayer aired by Paul Harvey............................
THIS GUY SURE HAS A GOOD VIEW OF WHAT'S HAPPENING TO THIS COUNTRY!
'Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and
to seek your direction and guidance.
We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done.
We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem.
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it
enlightenment.
Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and Set us free. Amen!'
Commentator Paul Harvey aired this prayer on his radio program, 'The Rest of the Story,' and received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired. With the Lord's help, may this prayer sweep over our nation and wholeheartedly become our desire so that we again can be called 'One nation under God.'
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Friday, January 30, 2009
Paul Harvey and Prayer
Paul Harvey and Prayer
Source: Email contribution
Paul Harvey says:
This is the United States of America, a country founded on Christian principles.
One or two will tell thousands what they can and cannot do. I don't think a short prayer at a football game is going to shake the world's foundations.
Christians are just sick and tired of turning the other cheek while our courts strip us of all our rights. Our parents and grandparents taught us to pray before eating, to pray before we go to sleep. Our Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. Now a handful of people and their lawyers are telling us to cease praying.
God, help us. And if that last sentence offends you, well, just sue me.
The silent majority has been silent too long. It's time we tell that one o r two who scream loud enough to be heard that the vast majority doesn't care what they want. It is time that the majority rules! It's time we tell them, You don't have to pray; you don't have to say the Pledge of Allegiance; you don't have to believe in God or attend services that honor Him. That is your right, and we will honor your right; but by golly, you are no longer going to take our rights away. We are fighting back, and we WILL WIN!
God bless us one and all ... Especially those who worship Him, God bless America, despite all her faults. She is still the greatest nation of all. God bless our military who are fighting to protect our right to pray and worship God.
Let's make 2009 the year the silent majority is heard and we put God back as the foundation of our families and institutions .. And our military forces come home from all the wars.
Keep looking up.
'AND THAT'S THE REST OF THE STORY'
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Source: Email contribution
Paul Harvey says:
This is the United States of America, a country founded on Christian principles.
One or two will tell thousands what they can and cannot do. I don't think a short prayer at a football game is going to shake the world's foundations.
Christians are just sick and tired of turning the other cheek while our courts strip us of all our rights. Our parents and grandparents taught us to pray before eating, to pray before we go to sleep. Our Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. Now a handful of people and their lawyers are telling us to cease praying.
God, help us. And if that last sentence offends you, well, just sue me.
The silent majority has been silent too long. It's time we tell that one o r two who scream loud enough to be heard that the vast majority doesn't care what they want. It is time that the majority rules! It's time we tell them, You don't have to pray; you don't have to say the Pledge of Allegiance; you don't have to believe in God or attend services that honor Him. That is your right, and we will honor your right; but by golly, you are no longer going to take our rights away. We are fighting back, and we WILL WIN!
God bless us one and all ... Especially those who worship Him, God bless America, despite all her faults. She is still the greatest nation of all. God bless our military who are fighting to protect our right to pray and worship God.
Let's make 2009 the year the silent majority is heard and we put God back as the foundation of our families and institutions .. And our military forces come home from all the wars.
Keep looking up.
'AND THAT'S THE REST OF THE STORY'
Subscribe FREE to Daily FYI ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
As I Mature ...
