Good Morning one and all....
I have a prayer request this morning for one of my nursing home ladies. Her name is Trudy, she is facing colon surgery on the 10th of November....and her 46 year old son is facing the same thing....they are both born again believers....please pray for these needs, as the Lord brings them to mind....thank you...

HOLA

Hello one and all....It has been awhile since blogging last.
So many things have happened. Happy things, learning things, quiet times, sad times.
But, the Lord has been there in all of them, helping me, holding me, guiding me.
This is my favorite time of year....The horses are getting heavy coats. The flowers have such vibrant colors....It is nice and cool at night but still warm during the day, oh, and the leaves what a beautiful color palette the Lord has made for His children to enjoy. It is a time to appreciate all the blessings we have been given. It is a time to bundle up in front of the wood stove, read your bible, ponder the things of the Lord and to reflect on Him. It is a time to go to the orchard and get apples then bring them home, wash them up, then dip them in caramel. It is a time to pop corn and settle in for an evening of enjoying the company of friends and fellow shipping with brothers and sisters......I love this time of year.
I have missed blogging, I have missed reading blogs. For right now, I am back for a season....Love and prayers, sis katie.

Praise the Lord

Thank you Saints for praying.
My family member had their surgery as scheduled on Monday. Everything went well.
They have been released from the hosp....thank you for praying for my loved one.
Sis Katie

Mr Miller

Babs Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed
a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily
apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of
fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation
between
Mr.Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas.
Sure
look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?"

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it."

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I
sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"

"Not zackley. but almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next
trip this way let me look at that red marble."

"Sure will Thanks Mr. Miller."


Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help
me.
With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our
community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to
bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they
come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he
doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce
for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."

I left the stand smiling to myself, impressed with this man.
A
short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of
this man, the boys, and their bartering.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.
Just
recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho
community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They
were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to
go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell
into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever
words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army
uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white
shirts...all very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by
her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on
the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each
young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold
pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his
eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and
mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. With her eyes
glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket

"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you
about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded"
them.
Now,at last,when Jim could not change his mind about color or
size....they came to pay their debt."

"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,"
she
confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in
Idaho "

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her
deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red
marbles.

Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our
kind
deeds.

Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the
moments that take our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles..A fresh pot of
coffee you didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old
friend.
Green
stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store.
A
good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys right where you left them.


Hello all....love and prayers, sis katie.

Please Pray

You have heard the old addage.....you only phone home when you want or need something.
It is Sunday morning, I have a family member who needs prayer. This family
member is not saved.
This family member is facing a surgery followed by radiation treatments....within the next two weeks.
The Dr's say there is a 85 percent cure rate.......thank you for praying....love and prayers, sis katie.

Information Please...

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. "Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information"

"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me." I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called "Information Please" and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."

"Information," said the now familiar voice.

"How do you spell fix?" I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much.

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information, Please."

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information."

I hadn't planned this but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed. "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time."

"I wonder", she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered "Information."

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" She said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this", she said. "Sally had been working part- time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?"

"Yes."

"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you."

The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.



***** Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.
Whose life have you touched today??? *****

FORGIVEN

I found Grace in the eyes of the Savior
My Life has been touched by the King!
Oh what Love could look beyond such a sinner?
But the love that eternity brings!


So I stand now in the shadows of Mercy
He's brought Peace beyond compare,
May 10,000 Angels sing all His praises!
For someday, I'll sing with them there.


Why He chose to reach down and touch me
It's a miracle no one could explain,
Oh the gratitude I hope now to show Him
Flows more than the drops of rain!


Praise His name from the tallest mountain!
Let it show that we walk with Him!
Stand tall against all that is evil
That peace flow through our hearts again!


I'm forgiven and so unworthy
Forgiven and Loved by Him!
He looked down from Heaven and touched me!
Now my Life has been Born Again!

Ephesians 4:32
And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.

Love and prayers, sis katie.

Even if it's Dark

He was a strong man facing an enemy beyond his strength. His young wife had become gravely ill, then suddenly passed away, leaving the big man alone with a wide-eyed, flaxen girl, not quite five years old.
The service in the village chapel was simple, and heavy with grief. After the burial at the cemetery, the man's neighbors gathered around him. "Please bring your little girl and stay with us for several days," someone said. "You shouldn't go back home just yet."
Broken-hearted though he was, the man answered, "Thank you, friends, for the kind offer. But we need to go back home--where she was. My baby and I must face this."
So they returned, the big man and his little girl, to what now seemed an empty, lifeless house. The man brought his daughter's little bed into his room, so they could face the first dark night together.
As the minutes slipped by that night, the young girl was having a dreadful time going to sleep...and so was her father. What could pierce a man's heart deeper than a child sobbing for a mother who would never come back?
Long into the night the little one continued to weep. The big man reached out into her bed and tried to comfort her as best he could. After a while, the little girl managed to stop crying--but only out of sorrow for her father. Thinking his daughter was asleep, the father looked up and said brokenly, "I trust You, Father, but...it's as dark as midnight!"
Hearing her dad's prayer, the little girl began to cry again.
"I thought you were asleep, baby," he said.
"Papa, I did try. I was sorry for you. I did try. But---I couldn't go to sleep. Papa, did you ever know it could be so dark? Why Papa? I can't even see you, it's so dark." Then, through her tears, the little girl whispered, "But you love me, even if it's dark--don't you, Papa?" You love me even if I don't see you, don't you, Papa?"
For an answer, the big man reached across with his massive hands, lifted his little girl out of her bed, brought her over onto his chest, and held her, until at last she felt asleep.
When she was finally quiet, he began to pray. He took his little girl's cry to him and passed it up to God.
"Father, it's dark as midnight. I can't see You at all. But You love
me even when it's dark and I can't see, don't You?"
From that blackest of hours, the Lord touched him with new strength, enabling him to carry on. He knew that God went on loving him, even in the dark.
Psalm 30:5b weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
Love and prayers, sis katie.

Prayer

A voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two of the men on it were able to swim to a small, desert like island. The two survivors, not knowing what else to do, agreed that they had no other recourse but to pray to God.

However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides of the island.

The first thing they prayed for was food. The next morning, the first man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land, and he was able to eat its fruit. The other man's parcel of land remained barren.

After a week, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survivor was a woman who swam to his side of the land. On the other side of the island, there was nothing.

Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, more food. The next day, like magic, all of these were given to him. However, the second man still had nothing.


Finally, the first man prayed for a ship, so that he and his wife could leave the island. In the morning, he found a ship docked at his side of the island. The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the second man on the island. He considered the other man unworthy to receive God's blessings, since none of his prayers had been answered.

As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from heaven booming, "Why are you leaving your companion on the island?"

"My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who prayed for them," the first man answered. "His prayers were all unanswered and so he does not deserve anything."

"You are mistaken!" the voice rebuked him. "He had only one prayer, which I answered. If not for that, you would not have received any of my blessings."

"Tell me," the first man asked the voice, "what did he pray for that I should owe him anything?"

"He prayed that all your prayers be answered."

For all we know, our blessings are not the fruits of our prayers alone, but those of another praying for us.

When Jesus died on the cross he was thinking of you!

Brothers and Sisters in the Lord....I love you and am Praying for you.....sis katie.

Words to Live by

The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've ever had.


It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.

Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they'll love you back! Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart but if it doesn't, be content it grew in yours. It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone, but it takes a lifetime to forget someone.

Don't go for looks; they can deceive. Don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile.

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to make you happy.

Always put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

Good Morning Bloggers, have a blessed day in HIM.

The Storm

Years ago, a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast.

He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were

reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the

awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops.


As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received

A steady stream of refusals.

Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached

the farmer. "Are you a good farm hand?" the farmer asked him.


"Well, I can sleep when the wind blows," answered the little man.

Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help,

Hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from

dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man's work.


Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore.

Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed

next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook the

little man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming!

Tie things down before they blow away!"


The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No
sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows."

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on

the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm.


To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had

been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred.

The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down.


Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his

hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while

the wind blew.





When you're prepared, spiritually, mentally, and physically,

you have nothing to fear. Can you sleep when the

wind blows through your life?


The hired hand in the story was able to sleep because he

had secured the farm against the storm.


We secure ourselves against the storms of life by
grounding ourselves in the Word of God.

We don't need to understand, we just need to hold

His hand to have peace in the middle of storms.

Hello Bloggers...it has been awhile since last post,
sorry about that. I do my posting at work. We are in
the midst of Federal buying season, so needless to say,
I am swamped here. I have very little extra time to post
let alone read right now. Love and prayers to all.

Tiny Frogs

Once upon a time there was a bunch of tiny frogs.... who arranged a running competition.

The goal was to reach the top of a very high tower.

A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on the contestants....

The race began....

Honestly:

No one in the crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of the tower.

You heard statements such as:

"Oh, WAY too difficult!!"

"They will NEVER make it to the top."

or:

"Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"


The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one....

Except for those, who in a fresh tempo, were climbing higher and higher..

The crowd continued to yell, "It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!"

More tiny frogs got tired and gave up....

But ONE continued higher and higher and higher....

This one wouldn't give up!

At the end everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny frog who, after a big effort, was the only one who reached the top!

THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally wanted to know how this one frog managed to do it?

A contestant asked the tiny frog how he had found the strength to succeed and reach the goal?

It turned out....

That the winner was DEAF!!!!





The wisdom of this story is:

Never listen to other people's tendencies to be

negative or pessimistic.... because they take your most wonderful dreams and wishes away from you -- the ones you have in your heart!

Always think of the power words have. (Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.
- Proverbs 18:21.)

Because everything you hear and read will affect your actions!

Therefore:

ALWAYS be....

POSITIVE!

And above all:

Be DEAF when people tell YOU that you cannot fulfill your dreams!

Always think:

God and I can do this!

Love and prayers, Sis Katie.

18 Gems of Wisdom

1) God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.

2) Dear God, I have a problem-- it's me.

3) There is no key to happiness. The door is always open.

4) Silence is often misinterpreted, but never misquoted.

5) Do the math.... count Your blessings.

6) Faith is the ability to not panic.

7) Laugh every day; it's like inner jogging.

8) If you worry, you didn't pray. If you pray, don't worry.

9) As a child of God, prayer is kind of like calling home everyday.

10) Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be bent out of shape.

11) The most important things in your home are the people.

12) When we get tangled up in our problems, be still so God can untangle the knot.

13) A grudge is a heavy thing to carry.

14) He who dies with the most possessions is still dead.

15) We do not remember days, but moments.

16) It's all right to sit on your pity pot every now and again. Just be sure to flush when you are done.

17) Learn from the turtle, it only makes progress when it sticks out its neck.

18) Never mind learning the tricks of the trade, just learn the trade.

Love to one and all, have a blessed day and rejoice in knowing that our God is
still on the throne and STILL in CONTROL!

A Different Type of Prayer

Heavenly Father, Help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and was rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.


Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.


Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job)! is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.

Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that, based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will be the last year that they go shopping together.

Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not just to those who are close to us but to all humanity. Let us be slow to judgment and quick to forgiveness and patience and empathy and love.

God Bless each and everyone who comes to this blog today......have a wonderful weekend in HIM.

Sunday Drive

>Sitting on the side of the highway waiting to catch
>speeding drivers, a State Police Officer sees a car
>puttering along at 22 MPH.
>
>He thinks to himself, "This driver is just as dangerous
>as a speeder!" So he turns on his lights and pulls the
>driver over.
>
>Approaching the car, he notices that there are five little
old ladies-two in the front seat and three in the back. They
-are wide eyed and white as ghosts. The driver, obviously
>confused, says to him, "Officer, I don't understand, I
>was doing exactly the speed limit! What seems to be the
>problem?"
>
>"Ma'am," the officer replies, "you weren't speeding,
>but you should know that driving slower than the speed
>limit can also be a danger to other drivers."
>
>"Slower than the speed limit? No sir, I was doing the
>speed limit exactly...Twenty- two miles an hour!" the
>old woman says a bit proudly.
>
>The State Police officer, trying to contain a chuckle
>explains to her that "22" was the route number, not the
>speed limit.
>A bit embarrassed, the woman grinned and thanked the
>officer for pointing out her error.
>
>"But before I let you go, Ma'am, I have to ask... Is
>everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully
>shaken and they haven't muttered a single peep this
>whole time," the officer asks with concern.
>
>"Oh, they'll be all right in a minute officer. We just
>got off Route 119."

When I got all of Jesus back where He belonged.

A father wanted to read a magazine but was being bothered by his
little girl, Shelby. She wanted to know what the United States looked
like. Finally, he tore a sheet out of his new magazine on which was
printed the map of the country. Tearing it into small pieces, he gave it
to Shelby, and said, "Go into the other room and see if you can put this
together. This will show you our whole country today."

After a few minutes, Shelby returned and handed him the map correctly
fitted together. The father was surprised and asked how she had
finished so quickly. "Oh," she said, "on the other side of the paper is
a picture of Jesus. When I got all of Jesus back where He belonged, then
our country just came together."

AMEN.

Grandpa's Hands

Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.

He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.

As a child my Mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.

They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.

They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.

They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my Parents and Spouse and walked my Daughter down the aisle.

Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot.

They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.

They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.

And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.

And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of Grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

Thank you Lord, for giving me these hands, to Praise you, to comfort others, to steady my aging mother, to hold my doggies and caress my horses, to shake another hand. I love you Lord, and I know whatever lays ahead, I am in your hands.

Who Packed Your Parachute?

Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam.
> After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed
> by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and
> parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured
> and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison.
> He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons
> learned from that experience.
>
> One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting
> in a restaurant, a man at another table came up
> and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in
> Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk.
> You were shot down!"
>
> "How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.
> "I packed your parachute," the man replied.
> Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude.
>
> The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!"
> Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't
> worked, I wouldn't be here today."
>
> Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man.
> Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked
> like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back,
> and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I
> might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning,
> how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a
> fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."
>
> Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent
> on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship,
> carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks
> of each chute, holding in his hands each time
> the fate of someone he didn't know.
>
> Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing
> your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides
> what they need to make it through the day. Plumb
> also points out that he needed many kinds of
> parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy
> territory-he needed his physical parachute, his mental
> parachute, his emotional parachute, and his
> spiritual parachute. He called on all these
> supports before reaching safety.
>
> Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us,
> we miss what is really important. We may fail to
> say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate
> someone on something wonderful that has happened
> to them, give a compliment, or just do something
> nice for no reason.
>
> As you go through this week, this month, this year,
> recognize the people who packed your parachute.
Then Thank the Lord, that HE cares for you and that
HE is the one that ultimately packed your parachute!

Convention

What a blessing convention was this weekend. I so needed to hear all that was said. Messages on Restitution were great. We had approach 134 in attendance. Sis Rosemary from Caldwell Spanish delivered an outstanding message on "making things right, God's way". Bro Grant also had a great message on Restitution. We are in a time where the battle is fierce, souls are at stake...How do we win this spiritual battle? On our Knees.....I love you each and everyone. I look forward to someday hugging each and everyone's neck. God is so very good to us. I am so very appreciative that HE loves me enough to discipline me. Keep on the firing lines, dear Brothers and Sisters. BE encouraged....BE of good cheer. God is STILL in control...Much love and prayers to all.....WAHOO....GLORY to GOD!

Good Morning Bloggers, wishing you all a very blessed day today and remainder of week...love and prayers, sis katie.