The Duck and the devil

> > There was a little boy visiting his grandparents on their farm. He> > was given a slingshot to play with out in the woods. He practiced in the> > woods; but he could never hit the target. Getting a little discouraged > > > > he headed back for dinner. As he was walking back he saw Grandma's pet> > duck.> > > > > > Just out of impulse, he let the slingshot fly, hit the duck square i n> > the head and killed it. He was shocked and grieved!> > > > In a panic, he hid the dead duck in the wood pile; only to see his > > sister watching! Sally had seen it all, but she said nothing> > > > > > After lunch the next day Grandma said, "Sally, let's wash the> > dishes." But Sally said, "Grandma, Johnny told me he wanted to help in > > the kitchen." Then she whispered to him, "Remember the duck?" So Johnny> > did the dishes.> > > > Later that day, Grandpa asked if the children wanted to go fishing> > and Grandma said, "I'm sorry but I need Sally to help make supper." > > > > Sally just smiled and said, "Well that's all right because Johnny> > told me he wanted to help." She whispered again, "Remember the duck?"> > So Sally went fishing and Johnny stayed to help. > > > > After several days of Johnny doing both his chores and Sally's; he> > finally couldn't stand it any longer.> > > > He came to Grandma and confessed that he had killed the duck.> > Grandma knelt down, gave him a hug and said, "Sweetheart, I know. > > > > You see, I was standing at the window and I saw the whole thing, but> > because I love you, I forgave you. I was just wondering how long you> > would let Sally make a slave of you." > > > > Thought for the day and every day thereafter?> > Whatever is in your past, whatever you have done... and the devil> > keeps throwing it up in your face (lying, cheating, debt, fear, bad> > habits, hatred, anger, bitterness, etc.)...whatever it is...You need to > > know that God was standing at the window and He saw the whole thing. He> > has seen your whole life. He wants you to know that He loves you and> > that you are forgiven.> > > > He's just wondering how long you will let the devil make a slave of > > you. The great thing about God is that when you ask for forgiveness; He> > not only forgives you, but He forgets. It is by God's grace and mercy> > that we are saved.> > > > Go ahead and make the difference in someone's life today. Share this > > with a friend and always remember: God is at the window!

Cell Phone vs Bible

I wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phone?
What if we carried it around in our purses or pockets?
What if we flipped through it several times a day?
What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it?
What if we used it to receive messages from the text?
What if we treated it like we couldn't live without it?
What if we gave it to Kids as gifts?
What if we used it when we traveled?
What if we used it in case of emergency.
This is something to make you go....hmm...where is my Bible?
Oh, and one more thing. Unlike our cell phone, we don't have to worry about our Bible being disconnected because Jesus already paid the bill.
Makes you stop and think "where are my priorities?"
And no dropped calls!

The Value of Disaster

For ten years Thomas Edison attempted to invent a storage battery. His efforts greatly strained his finances and, in Dec 1914, nearly brought him to ruin when a spontaneous combustion broke out in his film room. Within minutes all the packing
Compounds, celluloid for records and film, and other flammable goods were ablaze. Though fire depts. came from surrounding towns, the intense heat and low water pressure made attempts to douse the flames futile. Everything was destroyed.
While the damage exceeded $2 million, the concrete bldgs, thought to be fireproof, were insured for barely a tenth of that amount. The inventor’s twenty-four-year old son, Charles, searched frantically for his father, afraid that his spirit would be broken. Charles finally found him, calmly watching the fire, his face glowing in the reflection, white hair blowing in the wind.
“My heart ached for him,” said Charles. “he was sixty-seven, no longer a young man, and everything was going up in flames”.
“When he saw me he shouted, “Charles, where’s your mother?” When I told him I
didn’t know, he said, “find her. Bring her here. She will never see anything like this as long as she lives.”
The next morning, Edison looked at the ruins and said, “There is great value in disaster. All our mistakes are burned up. Thank God we can start anew.” Three weeks after the fire, Edison managed to deliver the first phonograph.
With each new day, we have the opportunity to start again, to start fresh…no matter what our circumstances. Let the Lord show you how to salvage hope from debris. You never know what joys lie ahead.
HOPE IS LIKE THE SUN, WHICH, AS WE JOURNEY TOWARDS IT, CASTS A SHADOW OF OUR BURDEN BEHIND US.
Romans 5:3 And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience;

>The Stranger
>
>A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to
>our small Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with
>this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family.
>The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.
>
>As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind,
>he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors:
>
>
>
>
>Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But
>the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for
>hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.
>
>If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always
>knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed
>able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league
>ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped
>talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
>
>Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each
>other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for
>peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to
>leave.)
>
>Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the
>stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was
>not allowed in our home... Not from us, our friends or any visitors.
>Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that
>burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.
>
>My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the
>stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes
>look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too
> freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant,
>sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
>
>I now know that my early concepts about relationships were
>influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values
>of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.
>
>More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with
>our family. He has blended right in and is
>not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into
>my parents' den today, you
>would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone
>to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?....
>
>We just call him, "TV."
>

>
>He has a wife now....We call her "Computer."

Something to think about....be blessed....sis katie.

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, "Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like."The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors andthe holy man looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew which smelled delicious and made the holy man's mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding-spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful, but because the handle was longer than their arms, they couldnot get the spoons back into their mouths. The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. The Lord said, "You have seenHell."They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holyman's mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking. The holy man said, "I don't understand." "It is simple" said the Lord, "it requires but one skill. You see, they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves." When Jesus died on the cross he was thinking of you!

God's Coffee

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got to talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in their work and lives. Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups, porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite bone china - telling them to help themselves to the coffee. When all the alumni had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said, "Notice that all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... and then you began eyeing each other's cups. Now consider this: Life is the coffee; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The type of cup one has does not define, nor change the quality of life a person lives. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us. The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything. "God brews the coffee, not the cups...
Enjoy your coffee! Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Spend time with God over your coffee.

Sixty Seconds

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin. ....... . Keep your eyes and heart on the Lord, HE will keep your feet on the path.

How To Forgive

One day a while back, a man, his heart heavy with grief, was walking in the woods. As he thought about his life this day, he knew many things were not right he thought about those who had lied about him back when he had a job.
His thoughts turned to those who had stolen his things and cheated him. He remembered family that had passed on. His mind turned to the illness he had that no one could cure. His very soul was filled with anger, resentment and frustration.
Standing there this day, searching for answers he could not find, knowing all else had failed him, he knelt at the base of an old oak tree to seek the one he knew would always be there. And with tears in his eyes, he prayed:
"Lord- You have done wonderful things for me in this life. You have told me to do many things for you, and I happily obeyed. Today, You have told me to forgive. I am sad, Lord, because I cannot. I don't know how. It is not fair Lord. I didn't deserve these wrongs that were done against me and I shouldn't have to forgive. As perfect as your way is Lord, this one thing I cannot do, for I don't know how to forgive. My anger is so deep Lord, I fear I may not hear you, but I pray that you teach me to do this one thing I cannot do - Teach me To Forgive."
As he knelt there in the quiet shade of that old oak tree, he felt something fall onto his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw something red on his shirt.
He could not turn to see what it was because where the oak tree had been was a large square piece of wood in the ground. He raised his head and saw two feet held to the wood with a large spike through them.
He raised his head more, and tears came to his eyes as he saw Jesus hanging on a cross. He saw spikes in His hands, a gash in His side, a torn and battered body, deep thorns sunk into His head. Finally he saw the suffering and pain on His precious face. As their eyes met, the man's tears turned to sobbing, and Jesus began to speak.
"Have you ever told a lie?" He asked?
The man answered- "yes, Lord."
"Have you ever been given too much change and kept it?"
The man answered - " yes. Lord." And the man sobbed more and more.
"Have you ever taken something from work that wasn't yours?" Jesus asked?
And the man answered - "yes, Lord."
"Have you ever sworn, using my Father's name in vain? "
The man, crying now, answered - "yes, Lord."
As Jesus asked many more times, "Have you ever"? The man's crying became uncontrollable, for he could only answer - "yes, Lord."
Then Jesus turned His head from one side to the other, and the man felt something fall on his other shoulder. He looked and saw that it was the Blood of Jesus. When he looked back up, his eyes met those of Jesus, and there was a look of love the man had never seen or known before.
Jesus said, "I didn't deserve this either, but I forgive you."
It may be hard to see how you're going to get through something, but when you look back in life, you realize how true this statement is.
Read the following line slowly and let it sink in....
If God brings you to it - He will bring you through it. When Jesus died on the cross, he was thinking of you!

The Trouble with Being Right

Take heed to yourselves: if thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him:
and if he repent, forgive him. Luke 17:3

Believe it or not, it's often harder to gracefully receive an apology than it is to issue one.
As Christians, we know we are to forgive "seventy time seven" (Matthew 18:22), but some
of us can sincerely forgive and still project an air of superiority unbecoming to a child of
the king.
If you're waiting for someone to realize they owe you an apology, use your coffee break
to think of a response that reflects genuine forgiveness and allows the transgressor to feel
he or she has retained your respect.

Consider this humorous little story:
A passenger on a dining car looked over the luncheon menu. The list included both
a chicken salad sandwich and a chicken sandwich. He decided on the chicken salad
sandwich but absentmindedly wrote chicken sandwich on the order slip. When the
waiter brought the chicken sandwich, the customer angrily protested.
Most waiters would have immediately picked up the order slip and shown the customer
the mistake was his. This waiter didn't. Instead, expressing regret at the error, he picked
up the chicken sandwich, returned to the kitchen, and a moment later placed a chicken
salad sandwich in front of the customer.
While eating the sandwich, the customer picked up the order slip and saw that the
mistake was his. When it came time to pay for the check, the man apologized to the
waiter and offered to pay for both sandwiches. This waiter's response was , "No, sir.
That's perfectly all right. I'm just happy you've forgiven me for being right."
By taking the blame initially and allowing the passenger to discover his own
mistake, the waiter accomplished several things: he allowed the passenger to retain
his dignity, reminded him to be more cautious before blaming others, and created
a better atmosphere for everyone in the dining car. Next time people blame
you for their mistake, don't get defensive, but instead find a creative way to make
things right.
It is not who is right, but what is right, that is of importance.

WOW by Max Lucado

You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any you've ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets? You don't know, but you want to know. So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky. Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store.The Little League baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching the clouds. And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.As if the sky were a curtain, the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From whence came the light begins to tumble a river of color spiking crystals of every hue ever seen and a million more never seen. Riding on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of the sky.
North.
South.
East.
West.
Thousands of silvery wings rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear the cherubim and seraphim chanting, Holy, holy, holy. The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship.
Presently the movement stops and the trumpets are silent, leaving only the triumphant triplet: Holy, holy, holy. Between each word is a pause. With each word, a profound reverence. You hear your voice join in the chorus. You don't know why you say the words, but you know you must.Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn, the entire world turns and there He is.Jesus.Through waves of light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration: I am the Alpha and the Omega.His angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you is a Figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that mattered, matters no more.... for Christ has come.
What a time that will be Brothers and Sisters, Hallelujah.

Wet Pants

Come with me to a third grade classroom.....
There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened.
It's never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll never speak to him again as long as he lives.
The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, "Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I'm dead meat."
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.
As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy's lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"
Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk.
The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else - Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You've done enough, you klutz!"
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants once too."
May God help us see the opportunities that are always around us to do good. Remember.....Just going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.
Each and everyone one of us are going through tough times right now,but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. Keepthe faith. Let's continue to pray for one another.
Love and prayers, sis katie.

Two Horses

Just up the road from my home is a field, in which are two horses. From a distance, each looks like every other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing. Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing. If nearby and listening, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to her halter is a small bell. It lets her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her. As you stand and watch these two friends, you'll see how she is always checking on him, and that he will listen for her bell and then slowly walk to where she is, trusting that she will not lead him astray. When she returns t o the shelter of the barn each evening, she stops occasionally and looks back, making sure her friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell. Like the owner of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need. Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others see. Good friends are like this. You don't always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours. "Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle." Two Horses ~Author Unknowm

23rd Psalm

The Lord is my Shepherd ----- that's Relationship!
I shall not want ----- that's Supply!
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ---- that's Rest!
He leadeth me beside the still waters ----- that's Refreshment!
He restoreth my soul ----- that's Healing!
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness ----- that's Guidance!
For His name sake ----- that's Purpose!
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ----- that's Testing!
I will fear no evil ----- that's Protection!
For Thou art with me ----- that's Faithfulness!
Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me ----- that's Discipline!
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies ----- that's Hope!
Thou annointest my head with oil ----- that's Consecration!
My cup runneth over ----- that's Abundance!
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life ---- that's Blessing!
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord ----- that's Security!
Forever ----- that's Eternity!
What is most valuable is not what we have in our lives, but WHO we have in our lives!

What God hath Promised

What God hath Promised

God hath not promised
skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways,
All our lives through;
God hath not promised
Sun without Rain,
Joy without Sorrow,
Peace without Pain.
But God hath promised
Strength for the day.
Rest for the Labor,
Light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy,
and Undying Love.

Do what you can do today....and
then trust God to do what you
cannot do!

Forgiveness

Proverbs 17:9 He that covereth a transgression seeketh love; but he that repeateth a matter separateth very friends.

You never let me forget, do you?
“Look, I said I was sorry a hundred times. I lied, I was wrong. It won’t ever happen again!”

It happened every time they got into an argument. He knew he had done wrong, but he had asked forgiveness a dozen times. It would cool down, but then somehow it would come up and start another argument. If only he would let go of it, but no, he always held it over his head, It hurt to know that he wasn’t forgiven. He had blown it and was truly sorry, but to be reminded of it over and over made him feel like a heel. He didn’t know how much longer he could hear about it before it would begin to affect their friendship.

True forgiveness only occurs when we treat the subject as a closed matter. If we bring up old hurts whenever feelings fly, then we have never really forgiven.
To hold a grudge is to build a wall between yourself and another person. Forgiveness breaks down walls. Christ came to break down walls and lead people to reconciliation. Before true healing can occur, though, we must let loose of all old hurts and start fresh.
Forgiveness gives us the clean start we need to heal all wounds. With God’s help, we can grow closer than ever before.
Oh Lord, teach me how to drop old hurts into the sea of forgetfulness as you have done for me and to truly forgive those who have hurt me. Fill me with your grace, that I might learn how to be graceful to others……AMEN

CHRIST WAS LOVE

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.
I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending.. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.
My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's WinterPageant.
I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production.
Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his Teacher, & she assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation.
All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then.
Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down.
Around the room I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.
Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer.
So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title. Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.
Those in the front row- center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.
As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."
The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside down - totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W". The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake.
But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W". Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.
A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen.
In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place. Why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.
For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:
"C H R I S T W A S L O V E"
And, I believe, He still is.
Amazed in His presence....humbled by His love.
HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMAS, love and prayer, sis katie.

Remember the Reason for this Season

>A young lady named Sally relates an experience she had in a seminary class,
>given by her teacher, Dr. Potter. She says that Dr. Potter was known for his
>elaborate object lessons.
>
> One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary and knew they
>were in for a fun day.
>
> On the wall was a big target and on a nearby table were many darts.
>Dr. Potter told the students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked
>or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts
>at the person's picture.
>
> Sally's friend drew a picture of who had stolen her boyfriend.
>Another friend drew a picture of his little brother. Sally drew a picture
>of a former friend, putting a great deal of detail into her drawing, even
>drawing pimples on the face. Sally was pleased with the overall effect she
>had achieved.
>
> The class lined up and began throwing darts. Some of the students
>threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripping apart.
>Sally looked forward to her turn, and was filled with disappointment when
>Dr. Potter, because of time limits, asked the students to return to their
>seats. As Sally sat thinking about how angry she was because she didn't
>have a chance to throw any darts at her target. Dr. Potter began removing
>the target from the wall.
>
> Underneath the target was a picture of Jesus. A hush fell over the
>room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus; holes and jagged
>marks covered His face and His eyes were pierced.
>
> Dr. Potter said only these words.... "In as much as ye have done it
>unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."
> Matthew 25:40.
>
> No other words were necessary; the tears filled eyes of the
>students focused only on the picture of Christ.
>

Bobby Decker

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!" My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car. "Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95. May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care....love and prayers, sis katie.

What Christmas should be about.......

Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this.
But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load.
Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked.
The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt."
That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.
When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked.
"Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy?
Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it.
She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.
In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensen's, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

~by Rian B. Anderson~

The Two Figures of Jesus

The Two Figures of Jesus

About a week before Christmas, Mom bought a new nativity scene. When She
unpacked it, she found two figures of the Baby Jesus. "Someone must Have
packed this wrong," mother said, counting out the figures. "We have One
Joseph, one Mary, three wise men, three shepherds, two lambs, a donkey,
a cow, an angel, and two babies. Oh, dear! I suppose some set down at
the store is missing a Baby Jesus because we have two." "You two run
back down to the store and tell the manager that we have an extra Jesus.
Tell him to put a sign on the remaining boxes saying that if a set is
missing a Baby Jesus, call 7126. Put on your warm coats, it's freezing
cold out there."

The manager of the store copied down mother's message, and the next time
We were in the store, we saw the cardboard sign that read, "If you're
missing Baby Jesus, call 7126." All week long we waited for someone to
call.

Surely, we thought, someone was missing that important figurine. Each
time the phone rang, mother would say, "I'll bet that's about Jesus."
But it never was.

Father tried to explain there are thousands of these scattered over The
country, and the figurine could be missing from a set in Florida or
Texas or California. Those packing mistakes happen all the time. He
suggested That she just put the extra Jesus back in the box and forget
about it.

"Put Baby Jesus back in the box?! What a terrible thing to do," said
mother. "Surely someone will call. We'll just keep the two of them
together in the manger until someone does." When no call had come by
5:00 on Christmas Eve, mother insisted that father "just run down to the
store" to see if there were any sets left. "You can see them right
through the window, over on the counter," she said. "If they are all
gone, I'll know someone is bound to call tonight." "Run down to the
store?" father thundered. "It's 15 below zero out there!" "Oh, daddy,
we'll go with you!" We began to put on our coats.

Father gave a long sigh and headed for the front closet. "I can't
believe I'm doing this," he muttered. We ran ahead as father reluctantly
walked out in The cold. Tommy got to the store first and pressed his
nose up to the store window. "They're all gone, Daddy," he shouted.
"Every set must be sold. Hooray! The mystery will be solved tonight!"
Father heard the news still a half block away and immediately turned on
his heel and headed back home. When we got back into the house, we
noticed that mother was gone and so was the extra Baby Jesus figurine.
"Someone must have called, and she went out to deliver the figurine,"
father reasoned, pulling off his boots.

"You kids get ready for bed while I wrap mother's present." Then the
phone rang. Father yelled "answer the phone and tell 'em we found a home
for Jesus." But it was mother calling with instructions for us to come
to 205 Chestnut Street immediately, and bring three blankets, a box of
cookies and Some milk.. "Now what has she gotten us into?" father
groaned as we Bundled up again. "205 Chestnut. Why that's across town.
Wrap that milk up good In the blankets, or it will turn to ice before we
get there. Why can't we all just get on with Christmas? It's probably 20
below out there now. And the wind is picking up. Of all the crazy things
to do on a night like this."

When we got to the house at 205 Chestnut Street, it was the darkest one
on the block. Only one tiny light burned in the living room, and the
moment we set foot on the porch steps, mother opened the door and
shouted, "They're here! Oh thank God you got here, Ray! You kids take
those blankets into the living room and wrap up the little ones on the
couch. I'll take the milk and cookies."

"Would you mind telling me what is going on, Ethel?" father asked. "We
have just walked through below zero weather with the wind in our faces
all the way."

"Never mind all that now," mother interrupted. "There is no heat in this
house, and this young mother is so upset, she doesn't know what to do.
Her husband walked out on her, and those poor little children will have
a very bleak Christmas, so don't you complain. I told her you could fix
that oil furnace in a jiffy. My mother strode off to the kitchen to warm
the milk while my brother and I wrapped up the five little children who
were huddled together on the couch. The children's mother explained to
my father that her husband had run off, taking bedding, clothing, and
almost every piece of furniture, but she had been doing all right until
the furnace broke down.

"I been doin' washin' an ironin' for people and cleanin' the five and
dime," she said. "I saw your number every day there, on those boxes on
the counter. When the furnace went out, that number kept goin' through
my mind. 7162, 7162 "Said on the box that if a person was missin' Jesus,
they should call you. That's how I knew you were good Christian people,
willin' to help folks. I figured that maybe you would help me, too. So I
stopped at the grocery store tonight, and I called your missus. I'm not
missin' Jesus, mister, because I sure love the Lord. But I am missin'
heat. I have no money to fix that furnace."

"Okay, okay," said father. "You've come to the right place. Now let's
see. You've got a little oil burner over there in the dining room.
Shouldn't be too hard to fix. Probably just a clogged flue. I'll look it
over, see what it needs." Mother came into the living room carrying a
plate of cookies and warm milk. As she set the cups down on the coffee
table, noticed the figure of Baby Jesus lying in the center of the
table. It was the only sign of Christmas in the house. The children
stared wide-eyed with wonder at the plate of cookies my mother set
before them. Father finally got the oil burner working but said, "You
need more oil. I'll make a few calls tonight and get some oil. Yes sir,
you came to the right place."

Father grinned. On the way home, father did not complain about the cold
weather and had barely set foot inside the door when he was on the
phone. "Ed, hey, how are ya, Ed? Yes, Merry Christmas to you, too. Say
Ed, we have kind of an unusual situation here. I know you've got that
pick-up truck. Do you still have some oil in that barrel on your truck?
You do?" By this time the rest of the family was pulling clothes out of
their closets and toys off of their shelves. It was long after our
bedtime when we were wrapping gifts. The pickup came. On it were chairs,
three lamps, blankets and gifts. Even though it was 30 below, father let
us ride along in the back of the truck.

No one ever did call about the missing figure in the nativity set, but
as I have grown older I realize that it wasn't a packing mistake after all.

Friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.....love and prayers, sis katie.