The Big Wheel

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone.  The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.  Their dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.

Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.  

He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.

Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. 

If there was a welfare system in effect in souther Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.  I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town.  No luck.

The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything.  I had to have a job.

Still no luck.  The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop.  It was called the Big Wheel.

An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.  She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.  She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.  I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people.  I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night.  She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep.   This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job.  And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money--fully half of what I averaged every night.  As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage.

The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak.  I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat.  New tires!  There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.  Had angels taken up residence in Indiana?  I wondered.

I made a deal with the local service station.  In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office.  I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn’t enough.  Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids.

I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys.  Then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.  Clothes were a worry too.  I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel.  These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.

A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.  The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o’clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.  I quickly opened the driver’s side door, crawled inside and knee led in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box.  Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10!  I looked inside another box; it was full of shirts to go with the jeans.  Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes.  There were candies and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries.  There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes.  There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour.  There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.  And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.  And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December.  And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop... 

THE POWER OF PRAYER.  I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer:

1. “Yes!”
2.   “Not yet.”
3.   “I have something better in mind.”

God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar.  You maybe going through a tough time right now but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that you cannot imagine.

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

A Very Sad Love Story

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me.  She was my so called 'best friend'.  I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine.  But she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it.

After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before.  I handed them to her.  She said 'thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

11th grade, the phone rang.  On the other end, it was her.  She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart.

She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone, so I did.  As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine.

After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep.  She looked at me, said 'thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Senior year, the day before prom she walked to my locker.  "My date is sick" she said, 'he's not gonna go" well, I didn't have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together - just as 'best friends'.  So we did.

Prom night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step.  I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes.  I want her to be mine, but she doesn't think of me like that, and I know it.  Then she said- "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma.

I wanted her to be mine - but she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her.  Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said- "you're my best friend," "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and don't know why.

Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. I watched her say 'I do' and drive off to her new life, married to another man.

I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said 'you came!'.  She said 'thanks' and kissed me on the cheek.

I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my 'best friend'.  At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read:

"...I stare at him wishing he was mine; but he doesn't notice me like that, and I know it.  I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love him but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.  I wish he would tell me he loved me!..." 

'I wish I did too...' I thought to myself, and I cried.

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

The Wooden Bowl

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson.  The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. 

The family ate together at the table.  But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. 

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor."

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometime he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. 

  

The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.

  

He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?"  Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. 

The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless.

Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. 

  

And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

  

On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter what happens, how bad it  seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. 

  

I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. 

  

I've learned that, regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. 

I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." 

I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back. 

I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But, if you focus on your family, your friends, the needs of others, your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you. 

  

I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. 

I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. 

I've learned that every day, you should reach out and touch  someone.

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

The Most Important Part of the Body

My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body. 

Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct answer. 

When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, "My ears, Mommy." 

She said, "No.  Many people are deaf.  But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon." 

Several years passed before she asked me again. 

Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. 

So this time I told her, "Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be "Our eyes." 

She looked at me and told me, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind." 

Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, "No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child." 

Then one year, my grandfather died.  Everybody was hurt.  Everybody was crying.  Even my father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry. 

My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final good-bye to my Grandfather. 

She asked me, "Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?" 

I was shocked when she asked me this now.  I always thought this was a game between her and me. 

She saw the confusion on my face and told me, "This question is very important.  It shows that you have really lived in your life.  For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you were wrong and I have given you an example why.  But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson." 

She looked down at me as only a mother can.  I saw her eyes well up with tears. 

She said, "My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder." 

I asked, "Is it because it holds up my head?" 

She replied, "No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry.  Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, my dear.  I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it." 

Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of others. 

People will forget what you said. 

People will forget what you did. 

But people will NEVER forget how you made them feel. 

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

Daddy's Empty Chair

A man's daughter had asked the local minister to come and pray with her  father.  When the minister arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows.  An empty chair sat beside his bed. The minister assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me, he said.  "No, who are you?" said the father.  The minister told him his name and then remarked, "I saw the empty chair and I figured you knew I was going to show up, "Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man.

"Would you mind closing the door?"  Puzzled, the minister shut the door. "I have never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man.  "But all of my life I have never known how to pray...At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head."

I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day four years ago, my best friend said to me, "Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus.  Here is what I suggest:  Sit down in a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair.  It's not spooky because he promised, 'I will be with you always'.  "Then just speak to him in the same way you're doing with me right now."

"So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day.  I'm careful though.  If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm."  The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey.

Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the church.  Two nights later the daughter called to tell the minister that her daddy had died that afternoon.  "Did he die in peace?" he asked.

"Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek.  When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead.  But there was something strange about his death.  Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on the chair beside the bed.  What do you make of that?"

The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I wish we could all go like that."

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

He Played His Best

This is the story of Robby. He was a young boy who lived with his elderly mother.  His mother wanted him to learn how to play the piano because she longed to hear her son play for her.  She sent her son to a piano teacher who took Robby in under her guidance.  However, there was one small problem because Robby was not musically inclined and therefore was very slow in learning.  The teacher did not have much faith in the boy because of his weakness.  The mother was very enthusiastic and every week she would send Robby to the teacher.

One day Robby stopped attending the piano lessons.  The teacher thought that he had given up and in fact she was quite pleased since she did not give much hope to Robby.  Not long after, the piano teacher was given the task to organize a piano concert in town.  She sent out circulars to invite the students and public to attend the event.  Suddenly, she received a call from Robby who offered to take part in the concert.  The teacher told Robby that he was not good enough and that he was no longer a student since he had stopped coming for lessons.  Robby begged her to give him a chance and promised that he would not let her down.

Finally, she gave in and she put him to play last, hoping that he will change his mind at the last minute.  When the big day came, the hall was packed and the children gave their best performance.  Finally, it was Robby's turn to play and as his name was announced, he walked in.  He was not in proper attire and his hair was not properly groomed.  The teacher was really nervous since Robby's performance could spoil the whole evening's brilliant performance.  As Robby started playing the crowd became silent and was amazed at the skill of this little boy.  In fact, he gave the best performance of the evening.  At the end of his presentation the crowd and the piano teacher gave him a standing ovation.  The crowd asked Robby how he managed to play so brilliantly.  With a microphone in front of him, he said, "I was not able to attend the weekly piano lessons as there was no one to send me because my mother was sick with cancer.  She just passed away this morning and I wanted her to hear me play.  You see, this is the first time she is able to hear me play because when she was alive she was deaf and now I know she is listening to me.  I have to play my best for her!"

SUCCESS PRINCIPLES

This is indeed a touching story of love and excellence.  When you have a passion and a reason to do something, you will surely excel.  You may not be talented or gifted but if you have a strong enough reason to do something, you will be able to tap into your inner God given potential.

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

Love and Time

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness and all others, including Love.  One day, it was announce to all the feelings that the island was going to sink to the bottom of the ocean.  So, all the feelings prepared their boats to leave. Love was the only one that stayed.  She wanted to preserve the island paradise until the last possible moment.  When the island was almost underwater, Love decided it was time to leave.  She began looking for someone to ask for help.

Just then, Richness was passing by in a grand boat. Love asked, “Richness, can I come with you on your boat?” Richness answered, “I’m sorry but there are lots of silver and gold on my boat and there is no room for you anywhere.”  Then Love decided to ask Vanity who was passing by in a beautiful vessel, “Vanity, please help me.”  “I can’t help you.” Vanity said, “You are all wet and you will damage my beautiful boat.”  Next, Love saw Sadness passing by.  Love said, “Sadness let me go with you.” Sadness answered, “Love I’m sorry but I just need to be alone now.”  Then Love saw Happiness.  Love cried out, “Happiness, please take me with you.”  But Happiness was so overjoyed that he did not hear Love calling him.

Love began to cry. Then she heard a voice say, “Come, Love, I will take you with me.”  It was an elder.  Love felt so blessed and overjoyed that she forgot to ask the elder his name.  They arrived on land.  The elder went on his way.  Love realized how much she owed the elder.  Love then found Knowledge and asked, “Who was that who helped me?”  “It was Time.”  Knowledge answered.  “But why did Time help me when no one else would?”  Love asked Knowledge. So he smiled and with deep wisdom and sincerity answered,  “Because only Time is capable of understanding how great Love is.”

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

A Story of Appreciation

One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.

He passed the first interview, the director did the last interview, made the last decision.

The director discovered from the CV that the youth's academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, never had a year when he did not score.

The director asked, "Did you obtain any scholarships in school?" the youth answered "none".

The director asked, "Was it your father who paid for your school fees?" The youth answered, "My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees."

The director asked, "Where did your mother work?" The youth answered, "My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect.

The director asked, "Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?" The youth answered, "Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me."

The director said, "I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother's hands, and then see me tomorrow morning."

The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid.

The youth cleaned his mother's hands slowly. His tear fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother's hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water.

This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother's hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future.

After finishing the cleaning of his mother hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother.

That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.

Next morning, the youth went to the director's office.

The Director noticed the tears in the youth's eyes, asked: "Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?"

The youth answered, "I cleaned my mother's hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes."

The Director asked, "Please tell me your feelings."

The youth said, "Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, by working together and helping my mother, only now I realized how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship.

The director said, "This is what I am looking for to be my manager. I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired."

Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company's performance improved tremendously.

A child, who has been protected and habitually given whatever he wanted, would develop "entitlement mentality" and would always put himself first. He would be ignorant of his parent's efforts. When he starts work, he assumes that every person must listen to him, and when he becomes a manager, he would never know the sufferings of his employees and would always blame others. For this kind of people, who may be good academically, may be successful for a while, but eventually would not feel sense of achievement. He will grumble and be full of hatred and fight for more. If we are this kind of protective parents, are we really showing love or are we destroying the kid instead?

You can let your kid live in a big house, eat a good meal, learn piano, watch a big screen TV. But when you are cutting grass, please let them experience it. After a meal, let them wash their plates and bowls together with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you do not have money to hire a maid, but it is because you want to love them in a right way. You want them to understand, no matter how rich their parents are, one day their hair will grow gray, same as the mother of that young person. The most important thing is your kid learns how to appreciate the effort and experience the difficulty and learns the ability to work with others to get things done.

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.  When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full.  They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar.

He shook the jar lightly.  The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.  He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.  Of course, the sand filled up everything else.  He asked once more if the jar was full.  The students responded with a unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand.  The students laughed.

“Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.  The golf balls are the important things - God, family, children, health, friends, and favourite passions -- things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house, and car.

The sand is everything else -- the small stuff.

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.  The same goes for life.  If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

So...

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.  Play with your children.  Take time to get medical checkups.  Take your partner out to dinner.  Play another 18.

There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

Take care of the golf balls first -- the things that really matter.  Set your priorities.  The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked".  It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

The Fern and the Bamboo

One day I decided to quit...I quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality... I wanted to quit my life.

I went to the woods to have one last talk with God.  "God", I asked, "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?"

His answer surprised me.

"Look around", He said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?"

"Yes", I replied.

"When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them.  I gave them light.  I gave them water.  The fern quickly grew from the earth.  Its brilliant green covered the floor.  Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo.

In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful.  And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed.  But I did not quit on the bamboo, He said.

In year three there was still nothing from the bamboo seed.  But I would not quit.  In year four, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed.

“I would not quit." He said.

"Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant.

But just 6 months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall.  

It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive.  I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle."

He asked me. "Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots?"

"I would not quit on the bamboo.  I will never quit on you."

"Don't compare yourself to others." He said.  “The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern.  Yet they both make the forest beautiful”.

"Your time will come", God said to me.  "You will rise high"

"How high should I rise?" I asked.

"How high will the bamboo rise?" He asked in return.

"As high as it can?" I questioned.

"Yes." He said, "Give ME glory by rising as high as you can."

I left the forest, realizing that God will never give up on me.  And He will never give up on you.

**********
For the Christian, prayer is not an option but an opportunity.

Don't tell the Lord how big the problem is, tell the problem how
great the Lord is!

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

Dust If You Must

Remember... a layer of dust protects the wood beneath  it. 

“A house becomes a home when you can write 'I love you' on the furniture.”

I used to spend at least 8 hours every weekend making sure things were just perfect - in case someone came over.  

Finally I realized one day that no-one came over, they were all out living life and having fun! 

Now,  when people visit, I don't have to explain the 'condition' of my home.  They are more interested in hearing about the things I've been doing while I was away living life and having fun.

  

If you  haven't figured this out yet, please heed this advice... Life is short. Enjoy it!    

Dust if you must  ...    

...but wouldn't it be better to paint a picture or write a letter, bake cookies or a cake and lick the spoon or plant a  seed, ponder the difference between a want and a need? 

Dust if you must  ...  

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

Dust if you must  ...  

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

Dust if you must  ...

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

In the end, it’s not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

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

Always remember:  God is at the window! God Bless You Today!

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

The Teacher (The Teddy Stoddard Story)

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume . But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."

Dr. Teddy Stoddard

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).

Red Marbles

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.

I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing 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 (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello, Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas.  They 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?" asked Mr. Miller.

"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," said Miller.

"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?" the store owner asked.

"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," Mr. Miller told the boy.

"Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller..."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile 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, when they come on their next trip to the store."

I left the store 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 for marbles.

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 visitation 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 reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for 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.

The 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. 

(Author of this story is unknown.  It has been reprinted and shared with me.  If you happen to know the source or author, please forward the information so that proper credit and acknowledgement can be given).