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HisDaughter
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« on: November 14, 2007, 10:35:21 AM »

From Chicken Soup for the Single's Soul:


     Have you ever noticed that dining room tables seat six, eight or twelve --not seven, nine or thirteen?  I've been single all my life, usually not thinking much of it.  But on holidays even the place settings conspire against me, rendering a silent rebuke against my single status.
     You can endure holidya dinners two ways if you're single: 1) Bring someone you don't particularly care for; 2) hear the awful words "Pull up an extra eat," a euphemism for either a collapsible chair or one that is too high or too low for the table.  Either strategy leaves you uncomfortable.
     At Thanksgiving two years ago, while my calves cramped from straddling the leg of my brother's dining room table, Aunt Nell took the opportunity to ask for details about my love life, which was seriously lacking at the time.  The event was excruciating.
     Though I enjoy singlehood in the main, there have been times when I've worked myself into a mad frenzy looking for someone to fill a void I thought I couldn't satisfy on my own.  Someone, anyone with a pulse would do.  Over the years, I dated quite a few guys I liked --I was even engaged once, but "till death us to part" seemed a very long time.  I was relieved to be alone again.
     So holidays, expecially with the Aunt Nells of the family leave me a little bereft.  On day, noting my frustration a friend of mine suggested we try something different on the next such holiday.
     "How 'bout you and I go down to a homeless shelter and help out? Then maybe we'll be grateful for what we have," she proposed.
     I had a thousand reasons why this wasn't a good idea, but my friend persisted.  The next Christmas I found myself in an old warehouse, doling out food.
     Never in my life had I seen so many turkeys and rows of pumpkin pies.  Decorations donated by a nearby grocery store created a festive atmosphere that uplifted even my reluctant spirit.  When everyone was fed, I took a tray fand filled a plate with the bountiful harvest.  After a few bits, I knew what everyone was carrying on about; the food was really good.
     My dinner compaions were easy company.  Nobody asked me why I didn't have a date.  People just seemed grateful for a place to sit and enoy a special dinner.  To my surprise, I found I had much in common with my fellow diners.  They were people just like me.
     My experience that Christmas brought me back to the shelter the following year.  I enjoyed helping others so much that I began seeking more opportunities to serve.  I started volunteering for the Literacy Foundation once a week.  I figured I could sit in front of the TV, or I could use those evening hours to help others learn to read.
     Caring for others has abundantly filled the void in my life that Ihad sometimes interpreted as a missing mate.  When I stopped trying so hard to fin in, I realized i was single for a reason and found my own special purpose.
     There is room at the table for a part of one.  And somtimes "just one" is the perfect fit.
by, Vivian Eisenecher
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« Reply #1 on: November 15, 2007, 09:12:17 AM »

Heirloom

     It had belonged to Great-grandmother and he knew he must be very careful.  The vase was one of mother’s dearest treasures.  She had told him so.
     The vase, placed high on the mantle, was out of the reach of little hands, but somehow he managed.  He just wanted to see if the tiny little rosebud border went all around the back.  He didn’t realize that a boy’s five-year-old hands are sometimes clumsy and not meant to hold delicate porcelain treasures.  It shattered when it hit the floor, and he began to cry.  That cry soon became a sobbing wail, growing louder and louder.  From the kitchen his mother heard her son crying and she came running.  Her footsteps hurried down the hall came around the corner.  She stopped then, looked at him, and saw what he had done. 
     Between his sobs, he could hardly speak the words, “I broke…..the vase.”
     And then his mother gave him a gift.
     With a look of relief, his mother said “Oh, thank heavens, I thought you were hurt!”  And then she held him tenderly until his sobbing stopped.
     She made it very clear –he was the treasure.  Though now a grown man, it is a gift he still carries in his heart.

By Ann Weems
Retold by Alice Gray
From; More Stories for the Heart
     
In Christ,
Grammyluv
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« Reply #2 on: November 16, 2007, 09:09:52 AM »

When Grown Kids Come to Visit
 
By Erma Bombeck
     
      In earlier days, I was a mother who made her kids pick up their rooms, make their own snacks and put their laundry in the utility room.  Now when they cme home, I put the rules aside.  I am like a concierge looking for a big tip.  I follow them around asking, “Are you hungry?  Can I get you something?  Do you have laundry?”
     I eat when they want to ear, cook their favorite foods just before they tell me they are going out with friends and watch helplessly as they eat their way a pound of baked ham at three in the afternoon.
     On their visit, my life changes.  I have no car.  My washer is set at extra-large and has two socks and a T-shirt in it.  The phone rings constantly and is never for me.
     At the end of their visits, we set aside a day, pack a lunch and head for the airport.  It isn’t until I return home that I sense how orderly my life has become.  I enjoy the quiet.  The TV tuner is rescued from the clothes hamper and is returned to its place on the coffee table.  The empty milk and juice cartons are removed from the refrigerator.  The we towels are put in the washer.  The bathroom is returned to health standards.
     It is my world again.  So why am I crying?


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« Reply #3 on: November 17, 2007, 10:18:19 AM »

Taking Sides
by Zig Ziglar

A little guy was confronted by three bullies, any one of whom could have obliterated him, and they were giving some evidence that they had that plan in mind.  The little guy was very bright, so he backed away from the three bullies, drew a line in the dirt, backed up a few more steps, looked into the eyes of the biggest of the three, and said, "Now, you just step across that line."  Confidently, the big bully did exactly that, and the little guy just grinned and said, "Now, we're both on the same side."

The reason a dog has so many friends is because he wasgs his tail instead of his tongue.

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« Reply #4 on: November 18, 2007, 12:05:25 PM »

Chicken Soup for the Single's Soul

A Bunch of Violets

     Just out of college, I began working at an upscale gift gallery near San Francisco's Union Square.  After several months, my hurried morning walk to work, past a small flower stand, became routine.  Then one morning, passing tat stand, I felt an overwhelming desire to buy flowers for someone.  I found myself looking intently at different bouquets.  On the bottom shelf there was a nosegay of violets.  Mrs. Cairns, a grey-haired widow who worked at the gallery, came to mind.  I could just see that nosegay on the lavender tweed suit she often wore to work.
     We weren't close friends.  To me she seemed interested only in her job.  I was even a little envious because she always helped the wealthy San Francisco dowagers who came to shop and usually rang up four or five times my sales.  But, I followed my instinct.
     A few minutes later, I saw her standing inside the gallery doors, dressed in her lavender tweed suit.
     Hesitantly, I handed her the nosegay.  "These are for you, Mrs. Cairns."
     There was a second or two of silence before she said, "Know what?"
     Her faded brown eyes teared.  "Today is my wedding anniversay.  My huband passed away years ago, so no I'm the only one who remembers."
     As she pinned on the nosegay, I told her how pleased I was that my impulse purchase happened on her anniversary.
     She took both of my hands.  "But, my dear...I must tell you that I married forty years ago in a small town in Oregon.  It was a cold, winter day and there were no flowers in town, so my wedding bouquet was a nosegay of violets."

by Carol Fannin Rohwedder

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« Reply #5 on: November 19, 2007, 08:47:34 AM »

Long Range Vision
by Howard Hendricks

     As a boy I loved to wander over to a nearby park and watch the older men play checkers.  One day one of them invited me to play.  At first it looked easy.  I captured one, then another of his checkers.  But then, suddenly, he took one checker and hopped and skipped right across the board to the border and yelled, "King me!"  With that king, he proceeded to wipe me off the board.
     That day I learned about long-range vision.  No one minds losing a few checkers if he's headed for king territory.




There are no hopeless situations in life...
only men who have grown hopeless about them.
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« Reply #6 on: November 20, 2007, 10:04:07 AM »

Commence Prayer


     The plane was headed for New York--a routine and normally very boring flight.  But this time it proved to be otherwise.
     As they were on their descent pattern, the pilot realized that the landing gear was not engaging.  He messed around with the controls, trying again and again to get the gear to lock into place...without success.  He then asked ground control for instruction.  as the plane circled the landing field, the emergency crew coated the runway with foam and fire trucks and other emergency vehicles moved into position.
     Meanwhile, the passengers were told of each maneuver in that calm, unemotional voice pilots do so well.  Flight attendants glided about the cabin with an air of cool reserve.  Passengers were told to place their heads between their knees and grab their ankles just before impact.  There were tears and few cries of despair...
     Then, with the landing only minutes away, the pilot suddendly announced over the intercom:  "We are beginning our final descent.  At this moment, in accordance with International Aviation Codes established at Geneva, it is my obligation to inform you that if you believe in God you should commence prayer."
     Scout's honor...that's exactly what he said!

by Charles Swindoll
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« Reply #7 on: November 21, 2007, 08:35:58 AM »

Giving and Receiving

by Billie Davis


     A public school teacher made clear to me the complex ideas of giving and receiving.
     Evidently she noticed something about the way I held the book in reading class and arranged for an eye examination.  She did not send me to a clinic; she took me to her own oculist, not as a charity case but as a friend.  Indeed, I was so intriegued with the activity that I didn not realize exactly what had happened until one day at school she gave me the glasses.
     "I can't take them.  I can't pay for them," I said, embarrassed by my family's poverty.
     She told me a story:  "When I was a child, a neighbor bought glasses for me.  She said I should pay for them someday by getting glasses for some other little girl.  So, you see, the glasses were paid for before you were born."
     Then the teacher said the most welcome words that anyone had ever said to me:  "Someday you will buy glasses for some other little girl."
     She saw me as a giver.  She made me responsible.  She accepted me as a member of the same world she lived in.  I walked out of that room, clutching the glasses, not as a recipient of charity, but as a trusted courier.


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« Reply #8 on: November 22, 2007, 09:21:27 AM »

My thoughts and prayers are with each and everyone of you!






Have a blessed day!
Grammyluv
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« Reply #9 on: November 23, 2007, 10:25:04 AM »

Worship and Worry
by Ruth Bell Graham


     It was early in the morning in another country.  Exhausted as I was, I awoke around tree o'clock.  The name of someone I loved dearly flashed into my mind.  It was like an electric shock.
     Instantly I was wide awake.  I knew there would be no more sleep for me the rest of the night.  So I lay there and prayed for the one who was trying hard to run from God.  When it is dark and the imagination runs wild, there are fears only a mother can understand.
     Suddenly the Lord said to me, "Quit studying the problems and start studying the promises."
     Now, God has never spoken to me audibly, but there is no mistaking when He speaks.  So I turned on the light, got out my Bible, and the first verses that came to me were Philippians 4:6-7: "Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.  And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus"
     Suddenly I realized the missing ingredient in my prayers had "with thanksgiving."  So I put down my Bible and spent time worshipping Him for who ans what He is.  This covers more territory than any one mortal can comprehend.  Even contemplating what little we do know dissolves doubts, reinforces faith and restores joy.
     I began to thank God for giving me this one I loved so dearly in the first place.  I even thanked Him for the difficult spots which taught me so much.
     And you know what happened?  It was as if someone turned on the lights in my mind and heart, and the little fears and worries that had been nibbling away in the darkness like mice cockroaches hurriedly scuttled for cover.
     That was when I learned that worship and worry cannot live in the same heart: they are mutually exclusive.



Fear not tomorrow, for God is already there.
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« Reply #10 on: November 24, 2007, 08:29:46 AM »

From Chicken Soup for the Single's Soul

A Single Long-Stemmed Rose


     "Every day since my husband, Jack Benny, has been gone, the florist has delivered one long-stemmed red rose to my home..." Mary began.  "For the first few weeks, I was in a state of deep mourning.  It never occurred to me to ask who the roses were coming from.
     "I can't begin to exprss the grief I felt.  Jack's loss... Our separation after forty-eight years of complete togetherness...My feelings of utter loneliness, even though I was surrounded by relatives and dear, dear friends who tried to cheer me up.
     "Jack died the day after Christmas. The New Year of 1975 came and went without my noticing it.  I heard of people 'being numb with grief,' but I had never fully understood what those words meant-- not until I went through it myself.
     "It must have been seven or eight weeks before I finally asked the maid who the daily flower was from.  To my surprise, she had no idea.  I called our florist and asked him...
     "He told me quite a while before Jack passed away, he stopped in to send a bouquet of flowers to a friend.  As Jack was leaving, he suddenly turned back and said, 'David, if anything should happen to me, I want you to send my doll a red rose every day...'
     "When the florist finished, I was silent for a moment, and tears started running down my face.  I thanked him and said good-bye."
     Subsequently, Mary learned that Jack had actually included a provision for the flowers in his will.  One perfect red rose was to be delivered to here every day...for the rest of her life.

Mary Livingstone Benny and Hilliard Marks with Marcie Borie

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« Reply #11 on: November 25, 2007, 10:46:26 AM »

The Pencil Box

by Doris Sanford


     I was deep in thought at my office, preparing a lecture to be given that evening at a college across town, when the phone rang.  A woman I had never met introduced herself and said that she was the mother of a seven-year-old and that she was dying.  She said that her therapist had advised her that discussing her pending death with her son would be too traumatic for him, but somehow that didn't feel right to her.
     Knowing that I worked with grieving children, she asked my advice.  I told her that our heart is often smarter than our brain and that I thought she knew what would be best for her son.  I also invited her to attend the lecture that night since I was speaking about how children cope with death.  She said she would be there.
     I wondered later if I would recognize her at the lecture, but my question was answered when I saw a frail woman being half carried into the room by two adults.  I talked about the fact that children usually sense the truth long before they are told and that they often wait until they feel adults are ready to talk about it before sharing their concerns and questions.  I said that children usually can handle truth better than denial, even though the denial is intended to protect them from pain.  I said that respecting children meant including them in the family sadness, not shutting them out.
     She had heard enough.  At the break, she bobbled to the podium and through her tears she said, "I knew it in my heart.  I just knew I should tell him."  She said that she would tell him that night.
     The next morning I received another phone call from her.  She could hardly talk but I managed to hear the story through her choked voice.  She awakened him when they got home the night before and quietly said, "Derek, I have something to tell you."  He quickly interrupted her saying, "Oh, Mommy, is it now that you are going to tell me that you are dying?"  She held him close and they both sobbed while she said, "Yes."
     After a few minutes the little boy wanted down.  He said that he had something for her that he had been saving.  In the back of one of his drawers was a dirty pencil box.  Inside the box was a letter written in simple scrawl.  It said, "Good-bye, Mom.  I will always love you."
     How long he had been waiting to hear the truth, I don't know.  I do know that two days later Mom died.  In her casket was placed a dirty pencil box and a letter.



Measure wealth not by the things you have,
but by the things you have for which you
wold not take money.

Anonymous
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« Reply #12 on: November 26, 2007, 08:46:22 AM »

Heaven

Think of---

Stepping on shore, and finding it Heaven!
Of taking hold of a hand, and finding it Gods's hand.
Of breathing a new air, and finding it celestial air.
Of feeling invigorated, and finding it immortality.
Of passing from storm to tempest to an unbroken calm.
Of waking up, and finding it Home.

Author Unknown


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« Reply #13 on: November 26, 2007, 09:53:31 AM »

Heaven

Think of---

Stepping on shore, and finding it Heaven!
Of taking hold of a hand, and finding it Gods's hand.
Of breathing a new air, and finding it celestial air.
Of feeling invigorated, and finding it immortality.
Of passing from storm to tempest to an unbroken calm.
Of waking up, and finding it Home.

Author Unknown




AMEN SISTER YVETTE!

What a beautiful way to start the day! I think about going HOME all the time, and I know that CHRIST could RAPTURE HIS CHURCH at any time. Today would be a great day - I'm Ready!

Love In Christ,
Tom

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 NASB
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.
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« Reply #14 on: November 26, 2007, 10:15:59 AM »

AMEN SISTER YVETTE!

What a beautiful way to start the day! I think about going HOME all the time, and I know that CHRIST could RAPTURE HIS CHURCH at any time. Today would be a great day - I'm Ready!

Love In Christ,
Tom

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 NASB
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.

I am SO ready too Brother Tom!  This old world is getting pretty hard to look at.
Have a blessed day!  I'm on my way out the door to my new job!!
In Christ,
Yvette
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