You Just Never Know

Bill worked in a factory on a production line, he was a big, awkward, homely guy. He dressed oddly with ill-fitting clothes. There were several fellow workers who thought it smart to make fun of him.

One day one fellow worker noticed a small tear in his shirt and gave it a small rip. Another worker in the factory added his bit, and before long there was quite a ribbon of cloth dangling. Bill went on about his work and as he passed too near a moving belt the shirt strip was sucked into the machinery. In a split second the sleeve and Bill was in trouble. Alarms were sounded, switches pulled, and trouble was avoided.

The foreman then summoned all the workers and related this story:

In my younger days I worked in a small factory. That's when I first met Mike. He was big and witty, was always making jokes, and playing little pranks. Mike was a leader. Then there was Peter who was a follower. He always went along with Mike. And then there was a man named Murray. He was a little older than the rest of us - quiet, harmless, apart. He always ate his lunch by himself.

He wore the same patched trousers for three years straight. He never entered into the games we played at noon, wrestling, horseshoes and such. He appeared to be indifferent, always sitting quietly alone under a tree instead. Murray was a natural target for practical jokes.

He might find a live frog in his lunch box, or a dead spider in his hat. But he always took it in good humour. Then one autumn, when things were quiet in the factory, Mike took off a few days to go hunting. Peter went along, of course. And they promised all of us that if they got anything they'd bring us each a piece.

So we were all quite excited when we heard that they'd returned and that Mike had got a really big buck. We heard more than that. Peter could never keep anything to himself, and it leaked out that they had real whopper to play on Murray. Mike had cut up the buck and had made a nice package for each of us. And, for the laugh, for the joke of it, he had saved the ears, the tail, the hoofs - it would be so funny when Murray unwrapped them.

Mike distributed his packages during the lunch break. We each got a nice piece, opened it, and thanked him. The biggest package of all he saved until last. It was for Murray. Peter was all but bursting; and Mike looked very smug. Like always, Murray sat by himself; he was on the far side of the big table. Mike pushed the package over to where he could reach it; and we all sat and waited.

Murray was never one to say much. You might never know that he was around for all the talking he did. In three years he'd never said more than hundred words. So we were all quite astounded with what happened next. He took the package firmly in his grip and rose slowly to his feet. He smiled broadly at Mike - and it was then we noticed that his eyes were glistening. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down for a moment and then he got control of himself.

'I knew you wouldn't forget me,' he said gratefully, 'I knew you'd come through! You're big and you're playful, but I knew all along that you had a good heart.'

He swallowed again, and then took in the rest of us. 'I know I haven't seemed too chummy with you men; but I never meant to be rude. You see, I've got nine kids at home - and a wife that's been an invalid - bedridden now for four years. She ain't ever going to get any better. And sometimes when she's real bad off, I have to sit up all night to take care of her. And most of my wages have had to go for doctors and medicine.

The kids do all they can to help out, but at times it's been hard to keep food in their mouths. Maybe you think it's funny that I go off by myself to eat my lunch. Well, I guess I've been a little ashamed, because I don't always have anything between my sandwich. Or like today - maybe there's only a raw turnip in my lunch box. But I want you to know that this meat really means a lot to me. Maybe more than to anybody here because tonight my kids' ... as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand ... 'tonight my kids will have a really good meal.'

He tugged at the string. We'd been watching Murray so intently we hadn't paid much notice to Mike and Peter. But we all noticed them now, because they both tried to grab the package. But they were too late. Murray had broken the wrapper and was already surveying his present. He examined each hoof, each ear, and then he held up the tail. It wiggled limply. It should have been so funny, but nobody laughed - nobody at all.

But the hardest part was when Murray looked up and said 'Thank you' while trying to smile. Silently one by one each man moved forward carrying his package and quietly placed it in front of Murray for they had suddenly realised how little their own gift had really meant to them, until now.

This was where the foreman left the story and the men. He didn't need to say any more; but it was gratifying to notice that as each man ate his lunch that day, they shared part with Bill and one fellow even took off his shirt and gave it to him.

Author Unknown

The Boy with a Bad Temper

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His Father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence.

The first day the boy had driven 43 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all.

He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, 'You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence... The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. But it won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound will still be there. Always remember that a verbal wound is as bad as a physical one.

 

Written by Inspirational Poems

I had the most amazing experience yesterday and wanted to share it with you!

Yesterday, being a Monday was not a very good day at work. Things are a little tense at the office as we are in the last week of our "year" and a little short handed.

Mid morning i decided that i would take a break and sign into facebook and see what the rest of the world was up to. I read through several posts when one particular post caught my eye. I read the post and the comments left and decided that i would send a friend request to one of the commenter's.

Now i have known this "commenter" for basically all my life. He was quite a bit younger than me so i have never really had any interaction with him personally, but have always thought him to be a really polite kid and he always speaks when i see him. I had been seeing his name pop up on several of the posts that i read and had seen that he was making alot of positive remarks and liked that about him. That was my deciding factor in sending the request.

It wasn't long until he accepted my friends request and i thought little about it as i was extremely busy and to be truthful really stressed out.

I decided to eat my lunch at my desk and while doing so i signed back into facebook and seen a status post from my "new friend" that was seeking some information. Normally i overlook that type of thing and go on, but for some reason i decided to reply. I sent him a personal message with what little info i had and after a few minutes he replied to my message thanking me for the info and explained why he was wanting the information. His message outlined some deep frustration he was feeling and how he intended to deal with the situation. Of course the Mom in me answered him right back and gave him a few words of encouragement and basically told him what i would have told my own children.

He was very thankful for the encouragement and expressed this over a few messages back and forth.

As I sat there reading his messages with goose bumps and tears in my eyes, i realized that there was only one explanation for this exchange. It wasn't just by chance that we "crossed paths" when we did. It was God working through an everyday deal to make a difference in someones life.

Those few words of encourage made a difference in his life and it definitely made a difference in mine. I truly believe God was using me to help him through this situation and i think God was using him to show me that i need to slow down and look for the blessings that he places right in front of us.

"YOU SOMETIMES FIND BLESSINGS IN THE MOST UNEXPECTED PLACES"

--Tracy Wilson, Facebook Post 09-24-2012

The Old Man and the Dog    
  By Catherine Moore 

"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.   "Can't you do anything right?"
     
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
     
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."
 My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
       
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
         

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington  and  Oregon  He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.
     
The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his powers.
       
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
  
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
       
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived... But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
      
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
       
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue..
     
Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's
troubled mind.
     
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.
       
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.
     
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."
       
I listened as she read.. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
       
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog  in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed..
     
Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention.. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
       
I pointed to the dog "Can you tell me about him?"
      
The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.." He gestured helplessly.
       
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
       
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
       
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said..
       
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
      
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
       
Anger rose inside me It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"
         

Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.
     
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
     
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
     
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
       
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne.  Together he and Cheyenne  explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and  Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
         

Dad and  Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne  made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel  Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
      
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed.. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
       
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."
       
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
     
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article....
       
Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. .. ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all. 

Here is a little story written October 1, 2009 that i ran across that was written about the receiving of gift giving. What you say? Receiving of gift giving? Well, We all know how much fun it is to pick out a gift for someone we love and just cant wait to give it to them. We take it home, wrap it up all nice and pretty, and then wait to give it the lucky recipient. If you are like me, i am giddy at the thought of how excited they are going to be when they see the gift. It is pure joy to see the smile on their faces and our heart is filled with warmth and love knowing we made them happy!

Be prepared at all times for the gifts of God and be ready always for new ones. For God is a thousand times more ready to give than we are to receive.

                                                                                                                              - Meister Eckhart

Here is a little story written October 1, 2009 that i ran across that was written about the receiving of gift giving. What you say? Receiving of gift giving? Well, We all know how much fun it is to pick out a gift for someone we love and just cant wait to give it to them. We take it home, wrap it up all nice and pretty, and then wait to give it the lucky recipient. If you are like me, i am giddy at the thought of how excited they are going to be when they see the gift. It is pure joy to see the smile on their faces and our heart is filled with warmth and love knowing we made them happy!

Thats exactly how our God is. He wants each of us to be happy and has "wrapped" up a whole lifetime full of gifts for us.

The Receiving of Gift Giving

On Halloween we give candy, on Thanksgiving we give thanks and on Christmas we give gifts. Since today is October 1st, I can't help but think about giving. More specifically gift giving.

As far back as I can remember, I received candy on Halloween and Valentines Day and gifts for Christmas and birthdays. As a child I had birthday parties and attended birthday parties and gifts were exchanged. In school I made gifts for my parents for every holiday.

In Sunday school I learned that the three wise men gave valuable gifts to the Christ child. Being a Christian, I was raised to believe that it is better to give than to receive and that God loves a cheerful giver. As a young girl I started saving my allowance and buying gifts to give to family and friends.

When I started working at the age of seventeen, the gifts I gave became more expensive. I always tried to give people gifts that they would like, just as I hoped to receive the things that I wanted for gifts. I remember going from store to store in mall after mall looking for just the right item, within my budget, for everyone on my Christmas gift giving list.

When I was 20, I was working in a department store restaurant. One of the sandwich makers was an older woman who I became friendly with. One day she announced with a big smile that she was going to become a grandmother. I knew that her daughter was just seventeen and still in high school, but my friend was determined to look at the positive side of the situation.

My friend wanted to give her daughter a small baby shower. It would only be a couple of dozen women, family members and a few of her daughter’s friends. But with all of the new baby expenses falling on her shoulders, she just didn’t know where she would come up with the money for party supplies and favors to make it nice.

That weekend I was thinking about my friends problem. Having always been a little crafty, I came up with the idea of making baby shower party favors and a baby shower umbrella. I went to the craft store and purchased poster boards, pink and blue construction paper, mini pink and blue plastic baby safety pins, baby bottles and rattles and tape and glue. Then I went to the fabric store and purchased pink and blue gingham cloth, thread and pink and blue ribbons and laces.

I spent the weekend making little pink and blue baby cradles from poster board and construction paper. I lined the little cradles with mini gingham baby blankets trimmed in lace. All my friend would have to do is fill the little cradles with candy for adorable baby shower favors. Then I took an old umbrella and carefully removed the fabric from it. I used it as a pattern to sew a pink and blue gingham baby shower umbrella. I decorated the umbrella with ribbons and the mini safety pins, baby bottles and rattles. I boxed the completed baby cradle favors in the two sides of an open shirt box and wrapped the umbrella in a clean, plastic, drawstring trash bag.

When I went to work on Monday, I gave my gift to my friend. She jumped up and down and yelled with joy. I still remember the smile on her face, the light in her eyes, and the long, strong hug she gave me as she said thank you. I felt as happy as she did!

The giving of that gift taught me that the true receiving of gift giving is being able to share in the joy that bubbles within the heart of the one who receives a gift they truly cherish.

I continue to give gifts on special occasions and holidays and I must admit, I look forward to receiving gifts as well. But deep in my heart I know that the best gift I can give is the gift that allows me to experience the receiving of gift giving once again.



"Trials are the soil in which faith grows for miracles to blossom."

I Wish You Faith

  



I wish you truth for your decisions,
I wish you doubts to make you sure,
I wish you fear to give you caution,
I wish you courage to keep you pure,
But beyond these hopes and wishes,
One prayer soars high above,
I wish for you my graduate

Faith and Hope and Love.

I wish defeats to make you humble,
I wish success to let you soar,
I wish you tears to make you tender,
I wish you joy and so much more.
For beyond these hopes and wishes,
one prayer soars high above,
I wish for you my graduate
Faith and hope and love.

So as you stand and face tomorrow,
When life gets rough and tough,
There's someone who believes in you
With faith and hope and love.

So I wish for you my graduate
Faith and hope and love.

  by: James N Watkins, Source Unknown

As i was getting ready for work this morning i had a friend of mine on my mind. I immediately sent up a prayer for her and continued to get ready. I kept thinking about her on my way to town and felt that i should do a ditty about her on our website here.

I met her when my kids were competing in the Kansas High School Rodeo Association. Her name is Michele Longabaugh. I must add here that i had heard about Michele long before i actually met her. All good things of course.

Her husband, Jerry, is a very outgoing awesome guy who happened to be announcing a rodeo held at Kingman, Kansas. He is very funny and kept us entertained the whole rodeo. You would have been shocked to know that his family was facing a very tough road as his wife had recently found out that she had Stage 4 Annal Cancer. I did not know Michele at the time, but was very saddened that one of our rodeo family members was facing such a tough battle.

Over the course of the rodeo season i would hear bits and peices of Michele's journey and kept her in my prayers along the way. I finally had the opprotunity some time later to meet Michele and was absolutely amazed by her! After all she had been through she had a smile on her face and was a pure joy to speak to.

I immediately befriended her on facebook and began to receive her status updates. It was there that i stumbled on to a blog that Michele keeps detailing the journey that she has been on while fighting her battle with cancer. I have followed this blog for quite some time and can not express just how much of an inspiration this lady is to me. I may not know Michele very well, but i do know that she has an amazing story to tell and has touched many many people's lives with her ability to fight with such a positive attitude.

I encourage you to log onto http://ihavebuttwhat.tumblr.com/ and follow Michele's journey. I also ask that you keep Michele in your prayers as she continuely faces many trials along her path.

Here is a little write up about Michele that i found on the internet:

My name is Michele I am a wife and mother of three grown children. I am a registered nurse and small business owner in the midwest. I sell pacemakers and defibrillators for Biotronik Inc.
I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Anal Cancer in February 2010. I asked my OB-Gyn doctor to check what I thought was a hemorrhoid flare up at my routine pap smear visit, and discovered it was actually two tumors. My constant sciatica was found to be caused by a golf ball sized tumor growing out of my sacral bone. Not only was I diagnosed with a rare form of cancer; I had a rare form of metastasis located in my bone. After surgery to remove the sacral tumor I received simultaneous chemotherapy and radiation; two rounds of chemo lasting 96 hours each and seven weeks of radiation that resulted in my hospitalization for the last two weeks of treatment for pain control.
I baffled them all when I went into remission last year; I have just passed my one-year anniversary. The thing about anal cancer is that it is a cancer “below the belt”. Not only is it rare, there is definitely an unwarranted shame attached to it. I overcame the shame and humiliation and decided to fight the stigma. I did not have one risk factor when I was diagnosed. I thought I had a hemorrhoid and sciatic pain. I was wrong. My “well woman” doctor appointment saved my life!
These days, I try not to take any medications unless absolutely necessary. I eat to try to keep weight on and am limited by the damage radiation has inflicted on my digestive system. I exercise and try to increase my strength.
My current goal is to raise awareness for not only anal cancer but all cancers that exist “below the belt”. People need to be educated. Doctors need to be screening patients. I am talking and I can’t shut up…I won’t shut up! My hope is that no one ever suffers from anal cancer and if they do they get early diagnosis and treatment.
I would have liked to have a support group...a real one for folks like me. If I had been diagnosed with breast cancer resources would have been crawling out of the woodwork for me. There seems to be a stigma associated with these "below the belt" cancers and resources for emotional support are scarce.
I started a blog that logs my entire story from diagnosis to today. My hope is to shatter the stigma and fight the loneliness that accompanies this devastating type of cancer. You can visit my blog titled I have Butt What.  My story was recently published into a book, proceeds from each book will go to cancer research ($1/book).

* IF ANY OF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN PURCHASING MICHELE'S BOOK, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL GET YOU THE INFORMATION TO DO SO.

An error does not become a mistake until you refuse to correct it!

John F Kennedy

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pl9QdCQH2s

THE PAIN THAT YOU'VE BEEN FEELING

IS JUST THE HURT BEFORE THE HEALING!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MniOtRnCO9I

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap

 a harvest if we do do give up. Galations 6:9

We Will NEVER forget!

His name is Bill. He has wild hair, wears a T-shirt with holes in it, jeans and no shoes. This was literally his wardrobe for his entire four years of college. He is brilliant. Kind of esoteric and very, very bright. He became a Christian recently while attending college.

Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very conservative church. One day Bill decides to go there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair. The service has already started and So Bill starts down the aisle looking for a seat.

The church is completely packed and he can't find a seat. By now people are really looking a bit uncomfortable, but no one says anything. Bill gets closer and closer and closer to the pulpit and, when he realizes there are no seats, he just squats down right on the carpet. (Although perfectly acceptable behavior at a college fellowship, trust me, this had never happened in this church before! )

By now the people are really uptight, and the tension in the air is thick. About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of the church, an Elder is slowly making his way toward Bill. Now the Elder is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, and a three-piece suit. A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very courtly. He walks with a cane and, as he starts walking toward this boy, everyone is saying to themselves that you can't blame him for what he's going to do.

How can you expect a man of his age and of his background to understand some college kid on the floor? It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy. The church is utterly silent except for the clicking of the man's cane.

All eyes are focused on him. You can't even hear anyone breathing. The minister can't even preach the sermon until the Elder does what he has to do. And now they see this elderly man drop his cane on the floor. With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits down next to Bill and worships beside him so he won't be alone.

Everyone chokes up with emotion. When the minister gains control, he says, "What I'm about to preach, you will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never forget. Be careful how you live. You may be the only Bible some people will ever read."

September 7, 1992

Many of you will not remember September 7, 1992, but i do as it is a day that is forever etched in my memory. Even after 20 years!

The day began like any other day. As a wife and mother of a seven month old baby boy, i woke up to the smiles of a bouncing baby ready to tackle the day. We had a big day planned as we were going to spend the day at one of my favorite places. We always called it "The Farm" and many Sunday afternoons and holidays as i was growing up was spent there with our entire immediate family.

It was the opening weekend of Dove season and the guys were going to take advantage of the wide open spaces and go hunting while us ladies cooked up a family dinner and just hung around the old farm house.

My parents, husband and baby boy loaded into one vehicle and headed towards "The Farm" making a few stops in Woodward to pick up some groceries that we needed for dinner. Everything was going great until we topped a hill on a narrow dirt road just a few short miles from our destination. The noise was loud and everything happened in a blink of an eye. We had met another vehicle head on. This was at the beginning of the cell phone days so not many people had them, including us. My Dad and Husband struggled to walk the quarter of a mile to a local farm house despite their injuries to call for help. No one was home at this farm house so they had to break a window to get in to use the phone to call for help. Help arrived and we were all taken to the hospital where we were attended to and received treatment appropriate to our injuries. As for the people in the other vehicle, well, they both were not as fortunate as us and one of them did not make it. We did not know it at the time, but these people were family friends and had they had just came from "The Farm" and had been visiting with our family just prior to the accident.

My family told me some time later about the visit they had with them that day. It was a mother and daughter who lived just a half mile from "The Farm" and had for many many years. They were down visiting as the daughter was selling magazines. She was a Senior in High School at the time and they were raising money for one of her school functions. The mom had been making Friendship Bread and had brought a starter to my Grandma. They visited there for a while and the mom who had suffered from asthma for quite some time was having trouble breathing that day and made the statement that she didn't know how long she could go on living like that. They loaded into the car upon finishing their visit and was heading to call upon other neighbors when they met us on that narrow road at the crest of the hill where the mom went to be with her lord.

Everyday is a gift from God and he has a plan for each of us. God spared us that day and i firmly believe it was because he had things for us to do. It just was not our time. I hope you take time today to tell your family and friends just how much they mean to you and how much you love them. Things can happen in a blink of an eye and you may never get another chance.

Also please remember to wear you seat belts and put those babies in a child safety seat! It saves lives!

          Gentleness And Hugs

In my life I have experienced a lot of different types of hugs. I have gotten the warm hug that goes on forever. I have gotten the bear hug that squeezes the air right out of your lungs. I have gotten the neck hug where the little child jumps in your arms and wraps lovingly around your neck. I have gotten the back slapper hug where the hugger gives you the bam, bam on the back. I have even gotten the leg hug which toddlers all over the world use to melt your heart. The most memorable hug I ever got, however, came when I was a teenager.

I was visiting a monastery in the Midwest with several other boys. Our guide took us through the simple rooms where the Priests and Monks lived, worked, and prayed. As we entered a small kitchen one of the Brothers walked in. To say he was intimidating would have been an understatement. He was a giant of a man. He stood well over six and a half feet tall. He must have weighed over three hundred pounds as well. He looked like a lineman for a professional football team dressed in a brown, wool robe. As we talked, though, his kind spirit and delightful sense of humor put us all at ease. That is until he rose to leave. Then he walked right at me to give me a hug. At first I feared he might crack a rib, but when he took me in his huge arms all I felt was the love from his soul. It was the gentlest hug I ever got.
Leo Rosten said: "It is the weak who are cruel. Gentleness can only be expected from the strong." I learned that lesson first hand in the arms of one of the strongest but gentlest spirits I have ever met in this world. He showed me with one hug that God is love and that our real strength comes from loving each other as He loves us. He showed me that our true power comes when we aren’t afraid to embrace our goodness or express our joy. He showed me too that gentleness and hugs will forever go together. May your life always be full of both.

~ Joseph J. Mazzella ~

I asked the Lord to bless you
As I prayed for you today
To guide you and protect you
As you go along your way

His love is always with you
His promises are true
And when we give Him all our cares
You know He will see us through

So when the road you're traveling on
Seems difficult at best
Just remember I'm here praying
And
GOD WILL DO THE REST.