Chicken Soup

[HisDaughter]

The Vase

One day I was lying on the bed, reading, when my mother came into the room. She held out a vase - a rather plain and somewhat ugly vase. She asked, "Would you like to have this vase?"

I replied quickly, "No thanks, I don't want it."

As she turned to walk away, I picked up something that said to me, wait a minute, there is something more here. So I asked, '"Where did you get it?'"

She said, "Oh, I got it when I filled an order."

Filled an order? I thought - no communication here. So I asked, "What do you mean, filled an order?"

"Well," she said, "when I was a little girl, the Smith Company mailed catalogs to people. I would take the catalog around the neighborhood, and I'd get people to order from it. When I filled an order and sent it in, they gave me a prize. One time, I got a porch swing for my family."

Now you have to understand that my mother is 87 years old. She is one of six children in a family living through the depression. Money was real hard to come by and even the smallest of luxuries was very hard to come by. My grandmother and grandfather managed to keep their family together through the years, although I don't know how. For my mother to win a luxury like a porch swing was a significant accomplishment. Although she no longer had the swing, she had the vase -a vase full of meaning - which she offered to me.

Instantly I said, "Mom, I'm sorry, I do want the vase." Now it sits in a prominent place in my living room.

It symbolizes a precious meaning which my mother and I share. Unless you and I are sensitive to the other person and hear meaning, as well as words, we may miss wonderful opportunities in life.

-Author Unknown

[HisDaughter]

God! Help! I Need Strength!

My mother was dying of a terrible form of cancer . There was no cure. No one has ever lived five years after a diagnosis with this cancer. She had been diagnosed at the age of 61 and she was a vibrant, happy, enthusiastic, loving woman. She fought the cancer with all her strength, submitting to an experimental operation to give her a few more precious months on Earth.

My sister, my stepfather, and I cared for my mother after the operation, as she wasted away in the intensive care unit of a wonderful national cancer center. She had the best care anyone could have asked for. However, all three of us could see that she was getting worse and worse. She allowed herself to be put on life support, with the promise that she would be off it and home again soon, but weeks later, there was little hope she would ever be able to survive off the machines.

After long deliberations and tear-filled soul-searching, all three of us decided that it was time to ask the hospital to allow us to take our beloved mother off life support and to let her die with dignity. We had promised her throughout our lives that we would not allow her to be kept alive on machines, and we wanted to do our duty for her, no matter how difficult we found it to be.

After days of meetings, the hospital ethics committee agreed with us that it was time to take our mother off life support. I came back to Florida from my home in Virginia and together, my sister, my stepfather, and I stood at my mother's side, more upset and stressed than I could ever imagine. I remember thinking, as I observed how distressed my sister and stepfather were, that there were few situations on Earth more challenging than the one we faced. Suddenly, I was filled with love and sympathy for the family members of someone on death row, waiting in a room to hear that their loved one was dead. I thought to myself, "I can't take much more of this."

Then, the minister, a member of the ethics committee came into the room. He said, "I'm very sorry to tell you this, but the ethics committee has changed its mind. Your mother's doctors have withdrawn their names from the committee and from your mother's case. They say it feels like euthanasia to them. I must also tell you that there is great disagreement from other doctors on the committee who feel that your mother's doctors are more interested in protecting their reputations, than taking care of your mother and the three of you. We are going to have another meeting this afternoon. I will keep you posted of the outcome."

My sister began to scream and cry and my stepfather turned beet red. I felt my own stress levels climb to intolerable levels. In my own mind, I said, "God! If you have more strength out there for me, I need it now. I need help right now or I won't be able to get through this and to help my family get through this! Help me, God! Please!"

Suddenly I was no longer in my mother's hospital room. I was standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking a heaving, green and gold ocean. The air was soft as silk against my skin and the light seemed to float around me like the finest cloth. Somehow, I knew in my heart that the ocean was infinitely wide and infinitely deep. I knew inside myself that it was the strength of God. Behind me, someone (an angel?) leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear in a kind and loving voice, "Take what you will."

As I stood once again in the room with my grieving, angry family, I was flooded with the strength I had requested. I was able to help us all get through the afternoon and evening as the hospital went through the processes they needed to feel comfortable allowing us to take my mother off life support. Together, we were there for her, fulfilling our promise, standing together as a family, making sure she had the support she needed to leave this planet surrounded by love.

"Take what you will" is such a loving invitation and one I have remembered many times since, whenever I begin to doubt the infinite love of God. And one day, I hope to thank, in person, the angel whose gentle, supportive voice whispered those words into my ear.

[HisDaughter]

Life vs Dust

A house becomes a home when you can write 'I love you' on the furniture. I can't tell you how many countless hours that I have spent CLEANING! I used to spend at least 8 hours every weekend making sure things were just perfect - in case someone came over. Then I realized one day that no one came over; they were all out living life and having fun!

Now, when people do visit, I find no need to explain the "condition" of my home. They are more interested in hearing about the things I've been doing while I was away living life and having fun. If you haven't figured this out yet, please heed this advice.

Life is short. Enjoy it!
Dust if you must,
but wouldn't it be better to paint a picture or write a letter,
bake a cake or plant a seed,
ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must,
but there's not much time,
with rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
music to hear and books to read,
friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must,
but the world's out there
with the sun in your eyes,
the wind in your hair,
a flutter of snow,
a shower of rain.
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must,
but bear in mind,
old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go - and go you must - you,
yourself will make more dust!

It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.

[HisDaughter]

Two Great True Stories

STORY NUMBER ONE

Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago. Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.

Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie." He was his lawyer for a good reason. Eddie was very good! In fact, Eddie's skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time. To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big, but also Eddie got special dividends. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block. Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocities that went on around him.

Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had the best of everything: clothes, cars and a good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object. And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong.

Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was. Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn't give his son; he couldn't pass on a good name and a good example.

One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done. He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al "Scarface" Capone, clean up his tarnished name and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this, he would have to testify against the Mob. He knew that the cost would be great, but he testified.

Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he would ever pay. Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion and a poem clipped from a magazine.

The poem read: "The clock of life is wound but once. And no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time, for the clock may soon be still."

STORY NUMBER TWO

World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship. His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.

As he was returning to the mother ship he saw something that turned his blood cold, a squadron of Japanese aircraft were speeding their way toward the American fleet.

The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn't reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.

There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet. Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent. Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible and rendering them unfit to fly. Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction.

Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had in fact destroyed five enemy aircraft.

This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Congressional Medal of Honor. A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29. His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man.

So the next time you find yourself at O'Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch's Memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor. It's located between Terminals 1 and 2.

SO WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH OTHER?

Butch O'Hare was Easy Eddie's son.

[HisDaughter]

What the Fire Didn't Burn

My sister's husband was an alcoholic. They had separated and he lived several hundred kilometres from her and their two boys. One day he rang crying telling her he just could not make the next visit because he couldn't stop drinking. It was a tragic call which saddened my sister who was a sober alcoholic herself. Several months later she received a phone call from him saying that he was sober and was coming to see the boys, then aged 9 and 7, and would that be OK. She said that it would and he said he would be there in a few hours.

It was mid afternoon when she received a phone call from the police telling her that her husband had been in a car accident and had been badly burned. When she arrived at the hospital with the boys, she was told that her husband was seriously burned to 60% of his body. He was still conscious which was a miracle in itself as he had been given strong drugs for the pain, but he was determined to see his boys. They asked him how he was, and he replied, "Oh, I've had a bit of an accident, but that's enough about me, how are you two going?" They spoke for a little while but their dad had to go to the burns unit in the capital city for urgent treatment, so they sadly said goodbye and he was wheeled away.

He lived for 10 days, and the boys were able to visit him on two occasions in that time. On the last occasion their dad had his eyes open and watched them, but he couldn't speak as he was still heavily sedated. Again, the staff didn't know how he had opened his eyes. He just looked at his two boys as they played near his bed.

At the funeral the priest said that, among other things, he had given Jack a special blessing which meant that all the people around the world who were praying for "the unknown soul" at that moment, their prayers would go to Jack in his hour of need. I thought this was amazing. An obscure but suffering alcoholic prayed for by people around the world! His two little boys were so brave at the graveside, as they struggled to come to terms with what had happened to their dad. After the funeral, my sister told me that she had taken the boys to where the accident had occured because they wanted to go. It was on a rolling bend, and her husband had swerved to miss a kangaroo but lost control of the jeep and it ended up on its side a little way off the road with the roof off. Two women travelling behind him saw the car and stopped to offer help. He was 6' 4" and too heavy for them and they could not pull him free. While they went to get someone to help, the car burst into flames and Jack was caught in the fire. A man did reach him getting serious burns himself, and dragged him out, but he had suffered terribly by then. The grass around the jeep had caught fire and had burned several acres before the fire brigade could put it out. The police had found a most unusual item at the scene which puzzled them greatly as to how it wasn't burnt. It was a blue plastic container, like one used in a kitchen, which contained all the photos of the boys with their dad when they went and stayed with him during school holidays. It was found in the vehicle scarcely affected by the heat. The edges of some photos were slightly yellowed, and the container slightly warped, but apart from that, the photos were still intact. This event has truly been a revelation of wonderment as to the tender mercies of a loving God for two small boys.

[HisDaughter]

The Cab Ride

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One late night, I arrived at 2:30 a.m. to pick up a fare. The building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.

"Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knicknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated"

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said. 

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now"

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we  pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said

"You have to make a living," she answered. 

"There are other passengers," I responded.  Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.  Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?  What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.  But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.

[HisDaughter]

"SHMILY"
Author Unknown

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

They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet.

There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows.

"Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture. It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents' game. Scepticism has kept me from believing in true love-one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which not everyone is lucky enough to experience.

Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em." Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marvelling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.

But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, theywent to church every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to G~d to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone. "Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet.

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

S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.

[HisDaughter]

Life In 1550 - The Bad Old Days

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and were still smelling pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the B.O.

Baths equaled a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the Privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water."

Houses had thatched roofs. Thick straw, piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the pets ... dogs, cats and other small animals, mice, rats, bugs lived in the roof. When it rained, the roof became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying, "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could really mess up your nice clean bed. So, they found if they made beds with big posts and hung a sheet over the top, it addressed that problem. Hence those beautiful big 4 poster beds with canopies.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, hence the saying, "Dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors which would get slippery in the winter when wet. So they spread thresh on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on they kept adding more thresh until when you opened the door it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed at the entry way, hence a "thresh hold."

They cooked in the kitchen in a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They mostly ate vegetables and didn't get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes the stew had food in it that had been in there for a month. Hence the rhyme, "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot, nine days old."

Sometimes they could obtain pork and would feel really special when that happened. When company came over, they would bring out some bacon and hang it to show it off. It was a sign of wealth and a sign that the man of the house "Could really bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and "chew the fat."

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with a high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food. This happened most often with tomatoes, so they stopped eating tomatoes...for 400 years.

Most people didn't have pewter plates, but had trenchers - a piece of wood with the middle scooped out like a bowl. Trenchers were never washed and a lot of times, worms got into the wood. After eating off wormy trenchers, they would get "trench mouth."

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the "upper crust".

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock them out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a "wake".

England is old and small, and they started running out of places to bury people. So, they would dig up coffins and would take their bones to a house and reuse the grave. In reopening these coffins, one out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they thought they would tie a string on their wrist and lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night to listen for the bell. Hence on the "graveyard shift", they would know that someone was "saved by the bell" or he was a "dead ringer".

[HisDaughter]

Emergency Numbers

When in sorrow
call John 14

When men fail you
call Psalm 27

If you want to be fruitful
call John 15

When you have sinned
call Psalm 51

When you worry
call Matthew 6:19-34

When you are in danger
call Psalm 91

When God seems far away
call Psalm 139

When your faith needs stirring
call Hebrews 11

When you are lonely and fearful
call Psalm 23

When you grow bitter and critical
call 1 Corinthians 13

For Paul's secret to happiness
call Colossians 3:12-17

For idea of Christianity
call 2Corinthians 5:5-19

When you feel down and out
call Romans 8:1-30

When you leave home for labor or travel
call Psalm 121

When your prayers grow narrow or selfish
call Psalm 67

For a great invention/opportunity
call Isaiah 55

When you want courage for a task
call Joshua 1

How to get along with fellow men
call Romans 12

When you think of investments/returns
call Mark 10

If you are depressed
call Psalm 27

If your pocketbook is empty
call Psalm 37

[HisDaughter]

I Know Jesus

(From a professor at Northern Michigan University.)

There was an atheist couple that had a child. The couple never told their daughter anything about God or Jesus.

One night when the little girl was 5 years old, the parents fought with each other and the dad shot the mom and then himself, all in front of the horrified child.

Soon after she was sent to a foster home. The foster mother was a Christian and took the child to church. On the first day of Sunday school, the foster mother told the teacher that the girl had never heard of Jesus, and to please have patience with her.

The teacher held up a picture of Jesus and said, "Does anyone know who this is?"

The little girl said, "I do, that's the man who held me the night my parents died."

[HisDaughter]

23 Things to Always Remember And One Thing Never to Forget

1. Your presence is a present to the world.

2. You're unique and one of a kind.

3. Your life can be what you want it to be.

4. Take the days just one at a time.

5. Count your blessings, not your troubles.

6. You'll make it through whatever comes along.

7. Within you are so many answers.

8. Understand, have courage, be strong.

9. Don't put limits on yourself.

10. So many dreams are waiting to be realized.

11. Decisions are too important to leave to chance.

12. Reach for your peak, your goal, and your prize.

13. Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.

14. The longer one carries a problem, the heavier it gets.

15. Don't take things too seriously.

16. Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.

17. Remember that a little love goes a long way.

18. Remember that a lot ... goes forever.

19. Remember that friendship is a wise investment.

20. Life's treasures are people ... together.

21. Realize that it's never to late.

22. Do ordinary things in extraordinary ways.

23. Have health and hope and happiness.

And don't ever forget ... For even a day ... How very special you are.

[HisDaughter]

Can You Smell That?

A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery.

Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news. That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency cesarean to deliver couple's new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing.

At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs.

"I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could. "There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one."

Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana would likely face if she survived. She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.

"No! No!" was all Diana could say.

She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away.

As those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana. Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially 'raw', the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love. All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl.

There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there. At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later, Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted. Though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero.

Five years later, Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She showed no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she was everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far from the end of her story.

One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing. As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell that?"

Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain."

Dana closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"

Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like rain."

Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like Him. It smells like God does when you lay your head on His chest."

Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other children.

Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along. During those long days and nights of the first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it was His loving scent that the little girl was remembering.

God is not a knife edge to carefully balance on lest one falls into the abyss. God is an infinite plain, no matter which way you fall, he catches you.

[HisDaughter]

The Sack Lunches

I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my
 assigned seat. It was going to be a long flight. 'I'm glad I have a
 good book to read. Perhaps I will get a short nap,' I thought.
 
Just before take-off, a line of soldiers came down the aisle and
filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. I decided to
start a conversation. 'Where are you headed?' I asked the soldier
seated nearest to me.
 
'Chicago - to Great Lakes Base. We'll be there for two weeks for
special training, and then we're being deployed to Iraq '

After flying for about an hour, an announcement was made that sack
lunches were available for five dollars. It would be several hours
before we reached Chicago, and I quickly decided a lunch would help
pass the time.
 
As I reached for my wallet, I overheard soldier ask his buddy if he
planned to buy lunch. 'No, that seems like a lot of money for just a
sack lunch. Probably wouldn't be worth five bucks. I'll wait till we get to
Chicago ': His friend agreed.
 
I looked around at the other soldiers. None were buying lunch. I
walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a
fifty dollar bill.
 'Take a lunch to all those soldiers.' She grabbed my arms and squeezed
tightly. Her eyes wet with tears, she thanked me. 'My son was a
soldier in Iraq; it's almost like you are doing it for him.'
 
Picking up ten sacks, she headed up the aisle to where the soldiers
were seated. She stopped at my seat and asked, 'Which do you like best
- beef or chicken?'
 'Chicken,' I replied, wondering why she asked. She turned and went to
the front of plane, returning a minute later with a dinner plate from
first class. 'This is your thanks.'

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane,
heading for the rest room. A man stopped me. 'I saw what you did. I
want to be part of it. Here, take this.' He handed me twenty-five
dollars.
 Soon after I returned to my seat, I saw the Flight Captain coming down
the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he was
not looking for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers only on
my side of the plane. When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, held
out his hand, an said, 'I want to shake your hand'

Quickly unfastening my seatbelt I stood and took the Captain's hand.
With a booming voice he said, 'I was a soldier and I was a military
pilot. Once, someone bought me a lunch. It was an act of kindness I
never forgot.' I was embarrassed when applause was heard from all of
the passengers.
Later I walked to the front of the plane so I could stretch my legs. A
man who was seated about six rows in front of me reached out his hand,
wanting to shake mine. He left another twenty-five dollars in my palm.
 When we landed in Chicago I gathered my belongings and started to
deplane.
Waiting just inside the airplane door was a man who stopped me, put
something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a
word.  Another twenty-five dollars!
Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their
trip to the base. I walked over to them and handed them seventy-five
dollars. 'It will take you some time to reach the base. It will be
about time for a sandwich. God Bless You.'
 
Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their
fellow travelers. As I walked briskly to my car, I whispered a prayer
for their safe return. These soldiers were giving their all for our
country. I could only give them a couple of meals. It seemed so little...
 
A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life wrote a blank check
Made payable to 'The United States of America ' for an amount of 'up
to and including my life.' That is Honor, and there are way too many
people in this country who no longer understand it.'


 

 


 

[David_james]

oh puh-leaze

[HisDaughter]

Does God Exist?

The professor of a university challenged his students with this question; "Did God create everything that exists?"

A student answered bravely, "Yes, he did".

The professor then asked, "If God created everything, then he created evil. Since evil exists (as noticed by our own actions), so God is evil. The student couldn't respond to that statement causing the professor to conclude that he had "proved" that "belief in God" was a fairy tale, and therefore worthless.

Another student raised his hand and asked the professor, "May I pose a question? "

"Of course" answered the professor.

The young student stood up and asked: "Professor does Cold exists?"

The professor answered, "What kind of question is that? Of course the cold exists... haven't you ever been cold?"

The young student answered, "In fact sir, Cold does not exist. According to the laws of Physics, what we consider cold, in fact is the absence of heat. Anything is able to be studied as long as it transmits energy(heat). Absolute Zero is the total absence of heat, but cold does not exist. What we have done is create a term to describe how we feel if we don't have body heat or we are not hot."

"And, does Dark exist?", the student continued.

The professor answered "Of course.

This time the student responded, "Again you're wrong, Sir. Darkness does not exist either. Darkness is in fact simply the absence of light. Light can be studied, darkness can not. Darkness cannot be broken down. A simple ray of light tears the darkness and illuminates the surface where the light beam finishes. Dark is a term that we humans have created to describe what happens when there's lack of light."

Finally, the student asked the professor, "Sir, does evil exist?"

The professor replied, "Of course it exists, as I mentioned at the beginning, we see violations, crimes and violence anywhere in the world, and those things are evil."

The student responded, "Sir, evil does not exist. Just as in the previous cases, Evil is a term which man has created to describe the result of the absence of God's presence in the hearts of man.

After this, the professor bowed down his head, and didn't answer back.

The young man's name was Albert Einstein