Forwarded from James Wood, in Promise Keepers list (pk@onelist.com):

> From: jg_wood@... (James G Wood)
>
> Hello brothers.
>
> The other day I found a mini-poster in the local Christian
> book store that I thought was really cool. I bought it,
> naturally, and I thought I would share the message on it
> with you guys:
>
>
> While walking along a beach,
> a man saw someone in the distance leaning down,
> picking something up and throwing it into the ocean.
>
> As he came closer, he saw thousands of starfish
> the tide had thrown onto the beach.
> Unable to return to the ocean during low tide,
> the starfish were dying.
> He observed a young man picking up the starfish
> one by one and throwing them back into the water.
>
> After watching the seemingly futile effort,
> the observer said, "There must be
> thousands of starfish on this beach.
> It would be impossible for you to get to all of them.
> There are simply too many.
> You can't possibly save enough to make a difference."
>
> The young man smiled as he continued to pick up
> another starfish and toss it back into the ocean.
> "It made a difference to that one," he replied.
>
> As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one
> another as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.
>  -1 Peter 4:10
>
>
> Woody.
>
> No Limits.
> Jeremiah 32:27 - Luke 1:37 - Phillipians  4:13
>
> ___________________________________________________________________
> You don't need to buy Internet access to use free Internet e-mail.
> Get completely free e-mail from Juno at http://www.juno.com/getjuno.html
> or call Juno at (800) 654-JUNO [654-5866]
>
> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
> To unsubscribe from this mailing list, or to change your subscription
> to digest, go to the ONElist web site, at http://www.onelist.com and
> select the User Center link from the menu bar on the left.

This is as powerful a piece as I've read in some time. Thanks Richard, for
forwarding this.

   Subject: Good friday the 13th morning!
   Date: Friday, November 13, 1998 9:42 AM

   I have in my hands two boxes, which God gave me to hold
   He said, "Put all your sorrows in the black, and all your joys in the
gold."
   I heeded his words, and in the two boxes, both my joys and sorrows I
store
   But though the gold became heavier each day, the black was as light as
   before
   With curiosity, I opened the black, I wanted to find out why
   And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole which my sorrows had fallen out
by
   I showed the hole to God, and mused aloud, "I wonder where my sorrows
could
   be."
   He smiled a gentle smile at me, "My child, they're all here with me."
   I asked, "God, why give me the boxes, "Why the gold, and the black with
the
   hole?"
   "My child, the gold is for you to count your blessings, the black is for
you
   to let go."

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Subject: life and love


   I asked God to take away my pride. And God said "No".
   He said it was not for him to take away, but for me to give it up.

   I asked God to make my handicapped child whole.
   And God said "No".
   He said her spirit was whole, her body was only temporary.

   I asked God to grant me patience. And God said "No".
   He said patience is a by-product of tribulations. It isn't
   granted, it is earned.

   I asked God to give me happiness. And God said "No".
   He said he gives me blessings, happiness is up to me.

   I asked God to spare me pain. And God said "No".
   He said suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and
   brings you closer to me.

   I asked God to make my spirit grow. And God said "No".
   He said I must grow on my own.
   But he will prune me to make me fruitful.

   I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. And God said "No".
   He said I will give you life, that you may enjoy all things.

   I ask God to help me LOVE others, as much as he loves me.
   And God said, Ah, finally you have the idea.



   Richard Welty
   Senior Engineer, ITS
   Anacomp INC
   12365 Crosthwaite Circle
   Poway CA.  92064
   RWelty@...
   www.anacomp.com

<<  The Trouble Tree

  The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just
  finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an
  hour of work, his electric saw quit and now his ancient pickup truck
  refused to start.  While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
  On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward
  the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips
  of the branches with both hands.

When opening the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His
tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small
children and gave his wife a kiss.  Afterward he walked me to the
car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I
asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having
troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in
the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on
the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick
them up again.

"Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick
  'em up, there ain't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night
  before."

  By Author Unknown

Some years ago, I persuaded a local author to venture out into the computer
world to share her works. The result has been very rewarding to all of us
for a long while. She started out on my BBS, then ventured on to the
Internet. A resident of the southern Oregon Coast, she has been writing
inspirational poetry and other text for several years.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
---

ECHO

By Marilee Miller

      In the mesa country of northern New Mexico, over the
eons wind and rain scooped a bowl, or hollow space, from a
sandstone vertical cliff rock.  The natural bowl is said
to be a perfect amphitheater or echo chamber.

      When our family visited Echo Amphitheater, I couldn't
resist trying out the echo effect.  Since I'm no musician,
I could only trill a rather creaky musical scale.  To my
amazement, back from the rocks came a response which
picked up on my tune -- only, it rang wondrously,
continuing on and on.

      "Could I really have caused all that?  Or did the
angels answer me?" I asked myself, marveling, trying to
puzzle out how the rock levels could work from my simple
scale a melody of many delicious counternotes.

      But the mystery was solved.  Walking further down the
juniper lined trail, I saw, on a high point to which it
seemed impossible anyone could climb without ropes, a
woman standing.  Her dark braids accented a white, full,
flowing dress with wing sleeves in a popular Southwest
style.

      Lifting her arms, singing her worship to God, she did
look a little angelic.  And the hills gave back the glory
of her trained voice.  Below her on the steep talus slope
of loose rock sat her companion, an alert but very
contented dog.

      Our family continued to the base of the natural rock
bowl.  When we looked back, the woman and her yellow
retriever had mysteriously vanished by some route
invisible to us.  The glorious music, of course, had faded
away.

      So when the family tried our voices again, the
amphitheater gave back only the last syllables of our
untuneful shouts.  Hallooo!   "...Loo!"  How are you?
"...'R you?"

      As I come to God on my life's walk, I test out an
echo amphitheater.  May what I hear not be my voice at
all, but the Song of the Rock of Ages ministering to me.

--
Copyright 1986 by Marilee Miller
this writing may be copied for personal reading or to
disperse to others, electronically or in print; but it
must be given free: it may not be sold or used for-profit
without author's permission.  This notice is to appear on
each copy.

FORESIGHT

By Marilee Miller

      One winter day, during a walk in spite of a coastal
squall, my warm winter jacket lets me down -- it turns out
to not be waterproof any more!   Before I can get back
home, moisture seeps through the seamlines of the coat,
soaking through other layers of clothing.

      Now, that's a puzzle.  I love the feel of walking in
the rain.  But I don't enjoy getting soaked to the skin
with raw Oregon's Pacific chill.

      Only then do I remember a surplus store requisition
hanging neglected in my closet since summer.  I had bought
the clear vinyl outfit with hood because it was so cheap,
only $1.58, even though the only size left on the bargain
rack last July was wider than wider than wide.

      I chided myself later: just a silly pushover for any
old bargain.  But now I see how summer foresight has set
me free.  I can pull the opera-singer-sized jacket right
on over my other padded winter gear.  Its plastic defies
January blasts at Oregon stormwatch on the beach.  When I
go to practice the organ in the clammy church sanctuary, I
shuck off the damp outer layer and snuggle in a perfectly
dry regular jacket.  Since my winter coat is blue, I can
feel like no blue-sad-droopy flower, but be glad of
love-in-a-mist power. (Note: love-a-mist is the name of a
flower with airy, interesting blue blossoms).

      And the utility plastic raincoat can serve as a
makeshift driftwood tote, a wrapper for a leaky Thermos,
or a ground cover for sitting on dampish grass.  All it
takes is my foresight in taking along one simple, cheap
raincoat.

      My own spiritual preparation is the foresight which
helps me reach out to God.  In our relationship, he is the
rain cover in any storm of upset plans.  He shelters me
from the force of my own drippy fears.  One size fits all,
and goes on over me right  where I am in life.

     God is so big I'll never outgrow him.  He's my
coverall, overall, under all  -- and, a bargain!  For his
love didn't even cost me $1.58, but is absolutely free!

--
Copyright 1993 by Marilee Miller
this writing may be copied for personal reading or to
disperse to others, electronically or in print; but it
must be given free: it may not be sold or used for-profit
without author's permission.  This notice is to appear on
each copy.

GOD'S GIFT

By Marilee Miller

      A local church once sponsored a concert by a
travelling handbell choir.  The ringers were all retarded
(or "mentally challenged", as the newest term expresses
it) -- not just mildly, but some of them classed as
functionally ineducable.  Yet they play beautiful,
heavenly music.

      The choir's director has developed a way to teach
from signs on a large chart.  He points a stick at the
letters on the chart in the right rhythm to make the
melody "in time."  If only one bell is to ring, then only
a "C", for example, is printed in that particular square.
If 5 bells are to ring simultaneously, then all five are
printed within the same square.

      It takes from 6 months to 2 years to train one of the
pupils (adults) to be able to respond at the right time,
on cue.  But once this process is learned, and the person
integrated into the bell choir, the group can learn the
right way to do a new melody in about 24 hours.  (All the
ringers have to do is look at the charts, and follow the
pointer.  The only part any individual has to learn, is
the part in squares where he or she will be participating.

     One of the girls seemed to be totally withdrawn from
her surroundings.  She would stand with her head down, and
her mouth was all screwed up.  She didn't look like she
even knew where she was, or what was going on.  But we
were told that she had a special gift, of being able to
play anything she had ever heard.  She played, that is,
"rang" her bells, for Debussy, Chopin, and other pieces.
God is so good to compensate for lackings by giving all
his children special gifts.  What a great thing!

      The faces of these ringers were totally blank as they
played.  Yet they obeyed instructions perfectly.  They
sat, and stood, in unison.  And not a note they played was
out of place.

      One young man with a severe speech impediment but a
rich tenor sang a solo of "He Touched Me!"  And as I
looked at him, tears nearly came to my eyes.  For he had
been blank all evening.  But as he sang, his eyes took on
life.  And I thought, "He knows, he knows what he's
singing!"  Praise the Lord that there are moments when the
Almighty is powerful enough to get through even to the
"little ones."  As soon as the song was finished, the
man's face became lackluster again.  But for that moment,
God had loosed the windows of heaven to open the shutters
of a soul.

      In such a way does he work with all of us.  All we
need to do is come to him.  His work, his efforts, his
energy will cause us to sing the perfect song, play the
perfect melody.  So let us allow him to transform us until
we are exactly as he meant us to be.

--
Copyright 1990 by Marilee Miller
this writing may be copied for personal reading or to
disperse to others, electronically or in print; but it
must be given free: it may not be sold or used for-profit
without author's permission.  This notice is to appear on
each copy.

Author: Norman Russell, North Bend Oregon church of Christ:

Acceptable worship 2-22-98

	 Jesus was one who became a friend of tax collectors and sinful people.
There was considerable criticism of this practice. On one occasion, Jesus
went into Matthew's house for a meal. He had just called this former tax
collector to follow Him in His ministry. They were joined by a number of
other tax collectors and sinners and the religious elite asked Jesus'
disciples asked "Does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?"

	 The Lord took responsibility for answering the question away from His
disciples by saying "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.
But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice," For I
have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

	 Jesus challenged His inquisitors to focus on the phrase "I desire
compassion, not sacrifice." This is a quotation of Hosea 6:6. In that
context God is chastising Israel for breaking covenant. Sin had so
consumed His beloved nation that the people became abusive with their
fellow man. They then would offer their sacrifices and burnt-offerings
initiated by God at Sinai. They honestly believed that their outward
talk of devotion would right every wicked behavior they were involved in.

	 The lesson for todays Christian is clear: True love for God is
manifested in our treatment of people. We cannot cheat, lie to, or
abuse people and then come to church offers prayers of adoration,
sing, give and partake of the Lord's Supper expecting God to approve.
His desire is not in how righteous we are in our churches, but how
loving and caring we are to individuals, whether they be Christians or not.

	 The sacrifices were important, Jesus is not saying that they need
to be stopped. But rather sacrifices without love for one another made
them null and void. So too, praying, singing, giving and Lord's Supper are
very
important. If we want God to accept our worship, let us treat one another
as our Lord would want them treated.

Norm Russell Matthew 9:9-13

Author: Norman Russell, North Bend Oregon church of Christ:



Love Your Enemies

	 There was no love lost between Israel and Edom. Their hatred and
bitterness extended back to the days of Jacob and Esau. The Edomites are
descendants of
Esau. The conflict between the two nations surfaced during the Exodus.
Moses
had requested that Israel be allowed to pass through their country to the
promised land. Edom refused to allow them passage. (Numbers 20:14-21 )
Under
King David, Israel subjugated Edom and the Edomites became their servants.

	 Fast forward a few hundred years, we find Israel is in trouble. The
prophet
Obadiah describes Jenusalem as being ransacked, strangers carrying off the
city's wealth. and people attempting to escape with their life.

	 God has a message for Edom He tells them that they well be ruined. The
question arises, why? God answers it in verses 10-14. Edom had rejoiced
over
the plundering of Jerusalem. They laughed and made fun of their long time
enemy, because of their ruin, and God was going to destroy them for it.

	 There are times when people run into trouble. Sometimes it may be our
enemies
who experience these difficulties. People are tempted to say "they deserve
it"
or "they had it coming." Some might even rejoice over the trouble someone
faces. But God warns against such conduct. First, because what may be
happening to them is of divine origin. God does not always wait till
judgment
day to punish someone who has made life miserable for another.

	 Second, that sort of conduct is inconsistent with how God wants us to
treat
those Who hurt us. Jesus said "Love your enemies and pray for those who
persecute you." (Matthew 5:44) Paul would later write " . . . if your enemy
is
hungry feed him, and if he is thirsty give him a drink; for in so doing you
will heap burning coals upon his head." (Romans 12:20)

	 We learn that what goes around comes around, but it is important that we
not
be the ones who instigate that which goes around. How we treat others, even
our enemies, will be how we will be treated. How do you want to be treated?
Are you treating others that way, even you enemies?

Norm Russell

Often posted in various conferences, heavy-duty message:

From: Morthnmama@...


THE SPEEDING TICKET

  JACK TOOK A LONG LOOK AT HIS SPEEDOMETER BEFORE SLOWING DOWN: 73 IN A 55
ZONE.  THE FLASHING RED IN HIS REARVIEW MIRROR INSISTED HE PULL OVER
QUICKLY,
BUT JACK LET THE CAR COAST.

  FOURTH TIME IN AS MANY MONTHS.  HOW COULD A GUY GET CAUGHT SO OFTEN?

  WHEN HIS CAR HAD SLOWED TO 10 MILES AN HOUR.  JACK PULLED OVER, BUT ONLY
PARTIALLY.  LET THE COP WORRY ABOUT THE POTENTIAL TRAFFIC HAZARD.  MAYBE
SOME
OTHER CAR WILL TWEAK HIS BACKSIDE WITH A MIRROR.

  HE SLUMPED INTO HIS SEAT, THE COLLAR OF HIS TRENCH COAT.  THIS WAS WORSE
THAN
THE COMING TICKET.  A CHRISTIAN COP CATCHING A GUY FROM HIS OWN CHURCH.  A
GUY
WHO HAPPENED TO BE A LITTLE ANXIOUS TO GET HOME AFTER A LONG DAY AT THE
OFFICE.  A GUY HE WAS ABOUT TO PLAY GOLF WITH TOMORROW.

  JACK WAS TEMPTED TO LEAVE THE WINDOW SHUT LONG ENOUGH TO GAIN THE
PSYCHOLOGICAL EDGE BUT DECIDED ON A DIFFERENT TACK.  JUMPING OUT OF THE
CAR,
HE APPROACHED A MAN HE SAW EVERY SUNDAY , A MAN HE'D NEVER SEEN IN UNIFORM.

  " HI, BOB.  FANCY MEETING YOU LIKE THIS."

  "HELLO, JACK." NO SMILE.

  " GUESS YOU CAUGHT ME RED-HANDED IN A RUSH TO SEE MY WIFE AND KIDS."

  " YEAH, I GUESS." BOB SEEMED UNCERTAIN. GOOD.

  "I'VE SEEN SOME LONG DAYS AT THE  OFFICE LATELY. I'M AFRAID I BENT THE
RULES
A BIT-JUST THIS ONCE." JACK TOED AT A PEBBLE ON THE PAVEMENT.

  "DIANE SAID SOMETHING  ABOUT ROAST BEEF AND POTATOES TONIGHT.  KNOW WHAT I
MEAN?"

  " I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.  I ALSO KNOW THAT YOU HAVE A REPUTATION IN OUR
PRECINCT."

  OUCH. THIS WAS NOT GOING IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.  TIME TO CHANGE TACTICS.

  "WHAT'D YOU CLOCK ME AT?"

  "SEVENTY-ONE.  WOULD YOU SIT BACK IN YOUR CAR, PLEASE?"

  "NOW WAIT A MINUTE HERE, BOB.  I CHECKED AS SOON AS I SAW YOU . I WAS
BARELY
NUDGING 65."

  THE LIE SEEMED TO COME EASIER WITH EVERY TICKET.

  PLEASE, JACK,IN THE CAR."

  FLUSTERED, JACK HUNCHED HIMSELF THROUGH THE STILL-OPEN DOOR.  SLAMMING IT
SHUT, HE STARED AT THE DASHBOARD.  HE WAS IN NO RUSH TO OPEN THE WINDOW.
  THE MINUTES TICKED BY.  BOB SCRIBBLED AWAY ON THE PAD.  WHY HADN'T HE
ASKED
FOR A DRIVER'S LICENSE?

  WHATEVER THE REASON, IT WOULD BE A MONTH OF SUNDAYS BEFORE JACK EVER SAT
NEAR
THIS COP AGAIN .

  A TAP ON THE DOOR JERKED HIS HEAD TO THE LEFT.  THERE WAS BOB, A FOLDED
PAPER
IN HAND.  JACK ROLLED DOWN THE WINDOW A MERE TWO INCHES, JUST ENOUGH ROOM
FOR
BOB TO PASS HIM THE SLIP.

  "THANKS." JACK COULD NOT QUITE KEEP THE SNEER OUT OF HIS VOICE.

  BOB RETURNED TO HIS CAR WITH OUT A WORD.

  JACK WATCHED HIS RETREAT IN THE MIRROR, BOTTOM TEETH SCRATCHING HIS UPPER
LIP.  WHEN BOB VANISHED INSIDE HIS CAR..JACK UNFOLDED THE SHEET OF PAPER.
HOW
MUCH WAS THIS ONE GOING TO COST HIM.?'

  WAIT A MINUTE.  WHAT WAS THIS? SOME KIND OF JOKE? CERTAINLY NOT A TICKET.
JACK BEGAN TO READ:
  ---------------------------------------------------------------
  DEAR JACK,
  ONCE UPON A TIME I HAD A DAUGHTER.  SHE WAS SIX WHEN KILLED BY A CAR.  YOU
GUESSED IT A SPEEDING DRIVER.  A FINE AND THREE MONTHS IN JAIL, AND THE MAN
WAS FREE.  FREE TO HUG HIS DAUGHTERS.  ALL THREE OF THEM.

  I ONLY HAD ONE, AND I'M GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL HEAVEN BEFORE I CAN
EVER
HUG HER AGAIN.

  A THOUSAND TIMES I'VE TRIED TO FORGIVE THAT MAN.  A THOUSAND TIMES I
THOUGHT
I HAD, MAYBE I DID, BUT I  NEED TO DO IT AGAIN .  EVEN NOW.  PRAY FOR ME.
AND
BE CAREFUL.  MY SON IS ALL I HAVE LEFT.

  BOB
-----------------------------------------------------------------

  JACK SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY IN HIS TRENCH COAT.  THEN HE TWISTED AROUND IN
TIME TO SEE BOB'S CAR PULL AWAY AND HEAD DOWN THE ROAD.  JACK WATCHED UNTIL
IT
DISAPPEARED.  A FULL 15 MINUTES LATER, HE , TOO, PULLED AWAY  AND DROVE
SLOWLY
HOME, PRAYING  FOR FORGIVENESS AND HUGGING  A SURPRISED WIFE AND KIDS WHEN
HE
ARRIVED...

Recently posted in the Promise Keepers list, pk@onelist.com:

From: Michael Van Tubergen <mikevt@...

This is good stuff! A friend sent it to me, and I believe it desreves a
read on our list.

					 Mike


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

  Across the street from the campus is a well-dressed, very
  conservative church. They want to develop a ministry to the students,
  but are not sure how to go about it. One day Bill decides to go
  there. He walks in with no shoes, jeans, his T-shirt, and wild hair.
  The service has already started and so Bill starts down the aisle
  looking for a seat.

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

  About this time, the minister realizes that from way at the back of
  the church, a deacon is slowly making his way toward Bill. Now the
  deacon is in his eighties, has silver-gray hair, a three-piece suit,
  and a pocket watch.  A godly man, very elegant, very dignified, very
   courtly. He walks with a cane and as he starts walking toward this
  boy, everyone is saying to themselves, You can't blame him for what
  he's going to do.   How can you expect a man of his age and of his
  background to understand some college kid on the floor?

  It takes a long time for the man to reach the boy. The church is
  utterly silent except for the clicking of the man's cane. All eyes
  are focused on him. You can't hear anyone breathing. The people are
  thinking, The minister can't even preach the sermon until the deacon
  does what he has to do.  And now, they see this elderly man drop his
  cane on the floor.  With great difficulty he lowers himself and sits
  down next to Bill and worships with him so he won't be alone.
  Everyone chokes up with emotion.

  When the minister gains control he says, "What I'm about to preach,
  you will never remember. What you have just seen, you will never
  forget."

  From: "Elmer Lamont Crosby Jr."

This widely-circulated prayer was found most recently (by me, at least) in
the Promise Keepers list:

One awesome prayer....
  -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pastor Joe Wright's prayer


The recent news item about the Dallas City Council reviewing it's tradition
of opening meetings with prayer because some members are offended by the
mention of Jesus Christ reminded me of the following story about a Kansas
pastor:

When Pastor Joe Wright was asked to open the new session of the Kansas
Senate, everyone was expecting the usual politically correct generalities.
But on January 23, 1996, what they heard instead was a stirring prayer,
passionately calling our country to repentance and righteousness.

The response was immediate - with a number of legislators walking out
during the prayer.   In six short weeks Central Christian Church logged
more than 5,000 phone calls, with only 47 of those calls responding
negatively.  Commentator Paul Harvey aired Pastor Joe Wright's prayer on
the radio and received a larger response to this program than any other
program Paul Harvey has ever aired.  In addition, Central Christian Church
is now receiving international requests for copies of this prayer from
India, Africa, and Korea.

The prayer is reprinted below as an encouragement and challenge for each of
us to stand for the truth of the Gospel wherever the Lord gives us
opportunity.


  Heavenly Father, we come before You today to ask Your forgiveness and seek
Your direction and guidance.  We know Your Word says, "Woe on those who
call evil good,"  but that's exactly what we have done. We have lost our
spiritual equilibrium and inverted our values.

We confess that:
We have ridiculed the absolute truth of Your Word and called it pluralism;
We have worshipped other gods and called it multi-culturalism;
We have endorsed perversion and called it an alternative lifestyle;
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery;
We have neglected the needy and called it self-preservation;
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare;
We have killed our unborn and called it choice;
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable;
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building
self-esteem;
We have abused power and called it political savvy;
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition;
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it
freedom of expression;
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it
enlightenment.

Search us, O God, and know our hearts today; try us and see if there be
some wicked way in us; cleanse us from every sin and set us free. Guide and
bless these men and women who have been sent here by the people of Kansas,
and who have been ordained by You, to govern this great state.  Grant them
Your wisdom to rule and may their decisions direct us to the center of Your
will.  I ask it in the name of Your Son, the Living Savior, Jesus Christ.
Amen.












------------------------------------------------------------------------

Recently posted to the  Promise Keeper's list, pk@onelist.com:
===============================================

From: dmurphy@... (Dale Murphy)

------------------------------
SEEING WHAT EYES CAN'T
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I stand six steps from the bed's edge.  My arms extended.  Hands open.  On
the bed Sara - all four years of her - crouches, posed like a playful
kitten.  She's going to jump.  But she's not ready.  I'm too close. "Back
more, Daddy," she stands and dares.

I dramatically comply, confessing admiration for her courage. After two
giant steps I stop.  "More?" I ask. "Yes!" Sara squeals, hopping on the
bed.  With each step she laughs and claps and motions for more.  When I'm
beyond the reach of mortal man, when I am but a tiny figure on the horizon,
she stops me.  "There, stop there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she shouts.  I extend my arms.  Once again she crouches, then
springs.  Superman without a cape.  Skydiver without a chute.  Only her
heart flies higher than her body.  In that airborne instant her only hope
is her father.  If he proves weak, she'll fall.  If he proves cruel, she'll
crash.  If he proves forgetful, she'll tumble to the hard floor.

But such fear she does not know, for her father she does.  She trusts him.
Four years under the same roof have convinced her he is reliable.  He is
not superhuman, but he is strong.  He is not holy, but he is good.  He's
not brilliant but he doesn't have to remember to catch his child when she
jumps.

And so she flies.

And so she soars.

And so he catches her and the two rejoices at the wedding of her  trust and
his faithfulness.

					 *******

I stand a few feet from another bed.  This time no one laughs. The room is
solemn.  A machine pumps air into a tired body.  A monitor  metronomes the
beats of a weary heart.  The woman on the bed is no child.  She was, once.
Decades back. She was. But not now. Like Sara, she must trust. Only days
out of the operating room,  she's just been told she'll have to return. Her
frail hand squeezes mine. Her eyes mist with fear.

Unlike Sara, she sees no father. But the Father sees her. Trust Him, I say
to us both. Trust the voice that whispers your name. Trust the hands to
catch.

					 *******

I sit across the table from a good man. Good and afraid. His fear is
honest. Stocks are down. Inflation is up. He has payroll to meet and bills
to pay. He hasn't squandered or gambled or played. He has worked hard and
prayed often, but now he's afraid. Beneath the flannel suit lies a timid
heart.

He stirs his coffee and stares at me with the eyes of Wile E. Coyote who
just realized he's run beyond the edge of a cliff. He's  about to fall and
fall fast. He's Peter on the water, seeing the storm and not the face. He's
Peter in the waves, hearing the wind and not the voice.

Trust, I urge. But the word thuds. He's unaccustomed to such strangeness.
He's a man of reason. Even when the kite flies beyond the clouds he still
holds the string. But now the string has slipped.


And the sky is silent.

					 *******

I stand a few feet from a mirror and see the face of a man who failed...who
failed his Maker. Again. I promised I wouldn't, but I did.  I was quiet
when I should have been bold. I took a seat when I should have taken a
stand.

If this were a first time, it would have been different. But it isn't. How
many times can one fall and expect to be caught?

Trust. Why is it easy to tell others and so hard to remind self? Can God
deal with death? I told the woman so. Can God deal with debt?  I ventured
as much with the man. Can God hear yet one more confession from these lips?
  The face in the mirror asks.

					 *******

I sit a few feet from a man on death row. Jewish by birth. Tentmaker by
trade. Apostle by calling. His days are marked. I'm curious about what
bolsters this man as he nears his execution. So I ask some questions.

Do you have family?     "I have none."

What about your health? "My body is beaten and tired."

What do you own?        "I have my parchments. My pen. A cloak."

And your reputation?    "Well, it's not much. I'm a heretic to some, a
maverick to others."

Do you have friends?    "I do, but even some of them have turned
back."

Any awards?             "Not on earth."

Then what do you have, Paul? No belongings. No family. Criticized by some.
Mocked by others. What do you have, Paul? What do you have that matters?

I sit back quietly and watch. Paul rolls his hand into a fist. He  looks at
it. I look at it. What is he holding? What does he have?

He extends his hand so I can see. As I lean forward, he opens his fingers.
I peer at his palm. It's empty.

"I have my faith. It's all I have. But it's all I need. I have kept the
faith."

Paul leans back against the wall of his cell and smiles. And I lean back
against another and stare into the face of a man who has learned that there
is more to life than meets the eye.  For that's what faith is. Faith is
trusting what the eye can't see.

Eyes see the prowling lion. Faith sees Daniel's angel.

Eyes see storms. Faith sees Noah's rainbow.

Eyes see giants. Faith sees Canaan.

Your eyes see your faults. Your faith sees your Savior.

Your eyes see your guilt. Your faith sees His blood.

Your eyes see your grave. Your faith sees a city whose builder and maker is
God.

Your eyes look in the mirror and see a sinner, a failure, a
promise-breaker. But by faith you look in the mirror and see a robed
prodigal bearing the ring of grace on your finger and the kiss of your
Father on your face.

But wait a minute, someone asks. How do I know this is true? Nice prose,
but give me the facts. How do I know these aren't just fanciful hopes?

Part of the answer can be found in Sara's little leaps of faith.  Her older
sister, Andrea, was in the room watching, and I asked Sara if she would
jump to Andrea. Sara refused. I tried to convince her. She wouldn't budge.

"Why not?" I asked. "I only jump to big arms."

If we think the arms are weak, we won't jump. For that reason, the Father
flexed His muscles. "God's power is very great for those who believe," Paul
taught. "That power is the same as the great strength God used to raise
Christ from the dead" (Eph. 1:19-20).

Next time you wonder if God can catch you, read that verse. The very arms
that defeated death are the arms awaiting you.

Next time you wonder if God can forgive you, read that verse. The very
hands that were nailed to the cross are open for you.

And the next time you wonder if you will survive the jump, think of Sara
and me. If a flesh-and-bone-headed dad like me can catch his child, don't
you think your eternal Father can catch you?


----------------------------------------------------------
Adapted from 'When God Whispers Your Name' by Max Lucado
----------------------------------------------------------

Our local preacher has been putting little "Minute Messages" (see
http://home1.gte.net/mmagill) in the newspaper for several years now. They
are designed to take about a minute to read: thus making them more likely
to be read. But you never really know if a ministry like this is doing any
good for anybody unless you hear some feedback on it. Here's one person who
wrote back, and what they said. It just goes to show that not only those
"Shouting from the mountaintops" are being heard, but so are those quiet
ones pecking away at a typewriter a couple times a week. Its my hope to
encourage you to reach out to others, regardless of how "small" the effort
may seem. You never know how far it might reach, or how much it may mean to
them:

------- Begin Quote ------------
4/5/98
Author: Norm Russell

< Some Encouragement : Sometimes you wonder how much of what you do is
having any affect on people You may even find yourself wondering if
people really notice what you are trying to do. I was encouraged by
the following letter that came last week I print here in its entirety
for your encouragement so you can see how much good we are doing.

Dear Mr. Russell,

	 I thought you might be interested in knowing how many enjoy your
"Minute Message" every week. I have a very good friend who is incar-
cerated at Salem (Oregon, State Prison). Each Saturday morning I cut out
your message
and send it in my letter. Every time I do so he comments how much many
of the men he shares them with enjoys them. He has copies made so each man
can keep it for later reference. My friend also attends a weekly meeting
with a pastor of your denomination who is in his eighties and who climbs
the sixty six steps it takes to reach the chapel. He is admired for that
but so much more for the way he speaks the word of God in spirit and in
truth. My friend shares this man's weekly writings with me and I enjoy
that as much as I do your thoughts. It is such a blessing to me to see
and read that there are still at least two ministers of the gospel who
are not hesitant to say it the way it is, instead of tickling the
ears of the believers who do not love the truth. My friend and I can
only share in letters and phone visits at this time but more importantly
we share the reading of the word through the Bible each year, Therefore,
we know what it says and we delight in your expounding of its truth.
I want to encourage you in keeping up the good work, you can rest assured
there are many who appreciate your efforts. May the Lord continue to
bless you and keep you.

A friend in Him,

S.

(Name Withheld on Internet Posting of this message)

Off the topic for a moment, it seems this variant of an old hoax is back
among us again. Please, everyone, don't fall for it. Its been around for
years, and is completely false. The text of this can be found on my website
at http://home1.gte.net/mmagill on a main-page link. Its so sad because it
takes time away from caring people such as ourselves, and time away from
the ACS answering phone calls about it. Not to mention the resulting
network congestion. Anyway, here is the text:

========================================================
August 8th, 1998:

	 I spoke to "Rhonda" of the American Cancer Society in California today
to verify this.The letter quoted below is a sad hoax that has been plaguing
the ACS for quite some time. They're doing their best to catch up to the
original author, but it is now so widespread that its very hard to do that;
with some people (with the purist of intentions) duplicating the message
hundreds of times. This hoax has been around for several years in various
permutations - probably a good ten years that I know of. Anyway, the ACS in
response to my query confirms that they do not offer matching funds or
anything else as described in this letter. Please forward MY letter to
anyone you may have sent it to so that we can help them put an end ot it.
They can verifiy my claim by calling 1-800-ACS-2345, or visting the web
site at http://www.ca.cancer.org on the web. Type the word "hoax" into the
on-site search engine.

----------- Begin Hoax Quote --------------

   Dear All,

                I just received this mail from a friend of mine in my
College. Please respond to it.  It will just mean employing a little
bit of time and won't cost you a penny.  All it needs is the heart
for you to send this mail. PLEASE pass this mail on to everybody you know.
It is the request of a little girl who will soon leave this world as
she has been a victim of the terrible disease called CANCER.  Thank
you for your effort, this isn't a chain letter, but a choice for all
of us to save a little girl that's dying of a serious and fatal form
of cancer.  Please send this to everyone you know...or don't
know. This little girl has 6 months left to live, and as her dying wish,
she wanted to send a chain letter telling everyone to live their life to
fullest, since she never will.  She'll never make it to prom, graduate
from high school, or get married and have a family of her own.  By you
sending this to as many people as possible, you can give her and her
family a little hope, because with every name that this is sent to,
The American Cancer Society will donate 3 cents per name to her
treatment and recovery plan.  One guy sent this to 500 people!!!!
So, I know that we can send it to at least 5 or 6.  Come on you
guys.... and if you're too selfish to take 10-15 minutes scrolling
this and forwarding it to EVERYONE, then you are one sick person.
Just think it could be you one day.  It's not even your money,
just your time!!! PLEASE PASS ON

      Dr. Dennis Shields
      Professor
      Department of Developmental and
      Molecular Biology
      Albert Einstein College of
      Medicine of Yeshiva University
      1300 Morris Park Avenue
      Bronx, New York 10461
      Phone 718-430-3306
      Fax 718-430-8567

---------- End of Hoax Quote -----------

The story below was forwarded to me, and has a tremendous message.
Sometimes we never know the damage we can do when we speak without
thinking. Or without thinking ENOUGH, as in this case. It never occurred to
the parents in this story that the object of their son's concern could be
as close as it was....
=-----------------------------------

In a message dated 10/7/98 8:27:40 PM Eastern Daylight Time,
SCOTT_ROBERTS@... writes:

<<
  FRIENDSHIP

  A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after
  having fought in Vietnam. He called his parents from San Francisco.
  "Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask.  I have a
  friend I'd like to bring home with me."  "Sure," they replied, "we'd love
  to meet him." "There's something you should know the son continued,
  "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting.  He stepped on a land mind
  and lost an arm and a leg.  He has nowhere else to go, and I want
  him to come live with us."  "I'm sorry to hear that, son.  Maybe we
  can help him find somewhere to live. "No, Mom and Dad, I want him
to live with us."  "Son," said the father,  "you don't know what you're
asking.
   Someone with such a would be  a terrible burden on us.
  We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this
  interfere  with our lives.  I think you should just come home and forget
  about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own."  At that point, the
son hung up
  the phone.  The parents heard nothing more from him.  A few days later,
  however,  they received a call from the San Francisco police.  Their son
  had died after falling from a building, they were told.  The police
believed it was
  suicide.

	  The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the
  city morgue to identify the body of their son.  They recognized him, but
  to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son
  had only one  arm  and one leg. The parents in this story are like many of
us.  We find it easy to
  love those  who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don't
  like people who  inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable.  We would
rather
  stay away  from people who aren't as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we
are.
  Thankfully, there's someone who won't treat us that way.  Someone who
  loves  us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever
  family, regardless of how messed up we are. Tonight, before you tuck
yourself in for the night, say a little
  prayer that God will give you the strength you need to accept people as
  they are, and to help us all be more understanding of those who are
different from
  us!!!

There's a miracle called Friendship
  That dwells in the heart
  You don't know how it happens
  Or when it gets started
   But you know the special lift
   It always brings
  And you realize that Friendship
   Is God's most precious gift!
   Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed.
  They make you smile and encourage you to succeed
  They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they
  always want to open their hearts to us.
   Show your friends how much you care....
   Send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND.
  If it comes back to you, then you'll know you have a
   friend for life.

-- [ From: Tim Tolin * EMC.Ver #2.5.02 ] --

hope this isn't a repeat...very uplifting...
------- FORWARD, Original message follows -------

Date: Saturday, 10-Oct-98 12:05 PM

From: MAPBG                    \ America On-Line: (MAPBG)
To:   Tim Tolin                \ Internet:    (tolint@...)

Subject: Re: I've learned

Here you go!  :-)


  > > This one is uplifting....those of you who need it
  > >         [Fwd: Shared Thoughts]
  > >
  > >
  > >
  > > I've learned that I like my teacher because she cries when we sing
  > > "Silent Night". Age 7
  > >
  > > I've learned that when I wave to people in the country, they stop what
  > > they are doing and wave back. Age 9
  > >
  > > I've learned that although it's hard to admit it, I'm secretly glad my
  > > parents are strict with me. Age 15
  > >
  > > I've learned that silent company is often more healing than words of
  > > advice. Age 24
  > >
  > > I've learned that there are people who love you dearly but just don't
  > > know how to show it. Age 41
  > >
  > > I've learned that you can make someone's day by simply sending them a
  > > little card. Age 44
  > >
  > >
  > > I've learned that singing "Amazing Grace" can lift my spirits for
  > hours.
  > > Age 49
  > >
  > > I've learned that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he handles
  >
  > > these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas
  > > tree lights.
  > > Age 52
  > >
  > > I've learned that regardless of your rellationship with your parents,
  > > you miss them terribly after they die. Age 53
  > >
  > > I've learned that making a living is not the same thing as making a
  > > life. Age 58
  > >
  > > I've learned that if you want to do something positive for your
  > > children, try to improve your marriage. Age 61
  > >
  > > I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. Age 62
  > >
  > > 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. Age 64
  > >
  > > I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will elude you. But if
  > you
  > > focus on your family, the needs of others, your work, meeting new
  > > people, and doing the very best you can, happiness will find you. Age
  > 65
  > >
  > > I've learned that whenever I decide something with kindness, I usually
  > > make the right decision. Age 66
  > >
  > > I've learned that everyone can use a prayer. Age 72
  > >
  > > I've learned that it pays to believe in miracles. And to tell the
  > truth,
  > > I've seen several. Age 73
  > >
  > > I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. Age
  > 82
  > >
  > > I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone.
  > > People love that human touch--holding hands, a warm hug, or just a
  > > friendly pat on the back. Age 85
  > >
  > > I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. Age 92
  > >
  > > Pass this on to someone you care about. Sometimes they just need a
  > > little something to make them smile. :-)
  > >  >>


------- FORWARD, End of original message -------

Forwarded: Get out the tissues, again... :-)

BUTTERFLY KISSES"
  We often learn the most from our children.
  Some time ago, a friend of mine punished his 3-year-old daughter
  for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight, and
  he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to
          " put under the tree.
  Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the  next
  morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy." He was embarrassed
  by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he
  found that the box was empty. He yelled at her, "Don't you know
  that when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be
  something inside of it?"
  The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said,
  "Oh, Daddy it's not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for
  you, Daddy." The father was crushed. He put his arms around his
  little girl, and he begged her forgiveness.
  My friend told me that he kept that gold box by his bed for years.
  Whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary
  kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
  In a very real sense, each of us as parents has been given a gold
  container filled with unconditional love and kisses from our
  children.
  There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "THE MOST CARING CHILD"
  Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he
  was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the
  most caring child.
  The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor
  was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon
  seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's
  yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.
  When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the
  little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "TWO NICKELS AND FIVE PENNIES"
  When an ice cream sundae cost much less, a boy entered a coffee
  shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in
  front of him.
  "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the
  waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and
  studied a number of coins in it.
  "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some
  people were now waiting for a table, and the waitress was
  impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said angrily. The little boy
  again counted the coins.
  "I'll have the plain ice cream." The waitress brought the ice
  cream and walked away. The boy finished, paid the cashier, and
  departed.
  When the waitress came back, she swallowed hard at what she saw.
  There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and
  five pennies (15c) - her tip.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ADOPTED"
  Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of
  a family. One little boy in the picture had a different colour
  hair than the other family members.  One child suggested
  that he was adopted and a little girl named Jocelynn Jay
  said, "I know all about adoptions because I was adopted."
  "What does it mean to be adopted?" asked another child.
  "It means," said Jocelynn, "that you grew in your mommy's heart
  instead of her tummy."
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "BARNEY"
  A four year old was at the pediatrician for a check up.
  As the doctor looked down her ears with an otoscope, he asked,
  "Do you think I'll find Big Bird in here?" The little girl
  stayed silent.
  Next, the doctor took a tongue depressor and looked down her
  throat. He asked, "Do you think I'll find the Cookie Monster down
  there?" Again, the little girl was silent.
  Then the doctor put a stethoscope to her chest. As he listened
  to her heart beat, he asked, "Do you think I'll hear Barney in
  there?"
  "Oh, no!" the little girl replied. "Jesus is in my heart.
  Barney's on my underpants."
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "DISCOURAGED?"
  As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a
  local Little League baseball game that was being played in a park
  near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the
  first-baseline, I asked one of the boys what the score was.
  "We're behind 14 to nothing," he answered with a smile.
  "Really," I said. "I have to say you don't look very discouraged."
  "Discouraged?" the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face.
  "Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet."
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "ROLES AND HOW WE PLAY THEM"
  Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in my life, I stop and
  think about little Jamie Scott.  Jamie was trying out for a
  part in a school play. His mother told me that he'd set his
  heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen.
  On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him
  after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride
  and excitement. "Guess what Mom," he shouted, and then
  said those words that will remain a lesson to me: "I've
  been chosen to clap and cheer."
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  "A LESSON IN HEART"
  A lesson in "heart" is my little, 10 year old daughter, Sarah,
  who was born with a muscle missing in her foot and
  wears a brace all the time.
  She came home one beautiful spring day to tell me she had
  competed in "field day"- that's where they have lots of races and
  other competitive events.
  Because of her leg support, my mind raced as I tried to think of
  encouragement for my Sarah, things I could say to her about not
  letting this get her down-but before I could get a word out, she
  said, "Daddy, I won two of the races!" I couldn't believe it!
  And then Sarah said, "I had an advantage."
  Ahh. I knew it. I thought she must have been given a head
  start... some kind of physical advantage. But again, before I
  could say anything, she said, "Daddy, I didn't get a head
  start... My advantage was I had to try harder!"
  ***************************
  Submitted by Sam Wong
  YOU HAVE TWO CHOICES:
  Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a
  good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone
  would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any
  better, I would be twins."
  He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had
  followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the
  waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a
  natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was
  there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of
  the situation.
  Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to
  Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive
  person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each
  morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices
  today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to
  be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood.
  Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I
  I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every
  time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept
  their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I
  choose the positive side of life."
  "Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.
  "Yes it is," he said, "It's all about choices. When you cut away
  all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you
    react
  to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You
  choose to be in a good mood or bad mood.
  The bottom line: "It's your choice how you live life." I
  reflected on what Jerry said.
  Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own
  business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made
  a choice about life instead of reacting to it.
  Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are
  never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back
  door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three armed
  robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from
  nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked
  and shot him.
  Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the
  local trauma centre. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of
  intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with
  fragments of the bullets still in his body.
  I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked
  him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins.
  Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did
  ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place.
  "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have
  locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the
  floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to
  live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live.
  "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.
  Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling
  me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the
  emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the
  doctors and nurses, I got really scared.   In their eyes, I read,
  'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action."
  "What did you do?" I asked. "Well, there was a big, burly nurse
  shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was
  allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses
  stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep
  breath and yelled, 'Bullets! "
  Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live.
  Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."
  Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because
  of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we
  have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

Grab the tissues before you start to read this one!

  -----Original Message-----
  From: GCFL <gcfl-info@...
  To: Members of GCFL <gcfl-info@...
  Date: Friday, October 23, 1998 1:38 AM
  Subject: GCFL: Information Please


   /* This is a long, but good inperational piece.  It'll give you
   something to ponder during the weekend... */

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

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

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

   "Information"

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

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

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

   "Are you bleeding?"  the voice asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "Information," said the now familiar voice.

   "How do you spell fix?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   I asked for Sally.

   "Are you a friend?"  She said.

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

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

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

   "Yes."

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

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

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

   Anonymous

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

Forwarded, original author unknown:


<< The Truth about Friendship

  A simple friend identifies himself when he calls.
  A real friend doesn't have to.
  A simple friend opens a conversation with a full news bulletin on
  his life.
  A real friend says, "What's new with you?"
  A simple friend thinks the problems you whine about are recent.
  A real friend says, "You've been whining about the same thing
  for 14 years.  Get off your duff and do something about it."
  A simple friend has never seen you cry.
  A real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.
  A simple friend doesn't know your parents' first names.
  A real friend has their phone numbers in his address book.
  A simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party.
  A real friend comes early to help you cook and stays late to help
  you clean.
  A simple friend hates it when you call after he has gone to bed.
  A real friend asks you why you took so long to call.
  A simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems.
  A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.
  A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.
  A real friend could blackmail you with it.
  A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
  A real friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself.
  A simple friend thinks the friendship is over when you have an
  argument.
  A real friend knows that it's not a friendship until after you've had a
fight.
  A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.
  A real friend expects to always be there for you!
   >>

Author: Delores V. Stowe

    A Poetic Prayer

Thou art all, who in my dreams abide
Ever with me, near my side, always there, Divine Creator
In Thy love I wish to hide.
Oh Divine Creator.... to Thee on bended knee I bring
All my hopes, my dreams, my longings
To Thee, my sinful self would cling
Unlike Thee.... not meek and lowly but arrogant and full of pride
A child of pain and wild disorder
Returning home to Thy dear side.
So be with me in all my journeys
Thru lifes wild and angry seas, crashing round me to destroy me
Keeping me from life with Thee.
This my prayer I send to Thee
That Thou guide my every footstep until at last Thy face I see.
                                                                     Amen.

Author: Delores V. Stowe


Thoughts While Watching People

All these lovely souls
Possess the indwelling spirit
Of Thee, o Father God.
Though they see not, hear not,
And know not, may they feel
And realize that Thou art
Ever present, omnipotent
And that they are the same,
But are ever sleeping
Unable to awaken
Until the soul-call is
Pipped into their hearts.
May they awaken soon,
Oh Divine Presence,
And become that which contains
As well as that which is contained.

Author: Delores V. Stowe

    The Truth Of It All

"She's gone!", you'll say
"She's done passed away."
"Not true," I say,
"She's alive this very day!"

Only the flesh is gone
Because the living's done.
But the life force lives on
There! High above the sun.

Look! There she goes. Flitting around.
See? Just above the ground.
In that butterfly. See? O'er that flowered mound
Sipping nectar round and round.

The life force can never die.
He who tells you otherwise
Offers nothing to you but a lie!
So beloveds, no tear needed, no sorrowful sigh.

Love! Live! Be happy in your quest.
Know! Understand! The truth of the universe is the best.
And until that day when you can rest
Know this!... She just changed her dress!

Author: Delores V. Stowe

  His Presence

  In the presence of the Master
  There I find myself at peace.
  All the sad and false illusions
  Find there death beneath His feet.
  So I'll always seek His presence
  When this world sends forth its call,
  For I know He'll always answer
  "Lo, I'm here, you cannot fall!"
  So through this world, as I travel
  With perfect faith in Him my guide
  I'll seek to help all others
  Who wish to journey at His side.
  I'll be a channel for His glory
  A servant of the God on high,
  Until He calls me home again
  To my rest beyond the skies.

Author: Delores V. Stowe

Why?...

Why do we always say, "there's always tomorrow"
When bad habits we wish to break?
Why do we plague ourselves with sorrow,
For the things we should forsake?

What is it that invokes the Devil
In us who belong to Him?
What causes us to revel
In silly and useless sin?

Is it lack of love and lack of will?
Oh God! If this be so, please grant us
The strength to conquer our hell
And the courage to fight this foe.

Dolores V. Stowe passed away October 1, 1996 of  lung cancer. She gave us
permission to place these poems on our internet site before her  passing,
for which I am very thankful. She wrote these wonderful works as she was
dying. It is humbling to know that these are the works of someone about to
experience first-hand what she was writing about. Although I did not know
her personally other than as a friend-of-a-friend, it is obvious both from
her writings and her friends that she was a deeply spiritual and giving
person. May her soul forever rest in peace.

The next few messages are the poems she wrote just before her death.


                Mark R. Magill
                Coos Bay, Oregon USA

This message was sent to me some time ago by a dear brother in another
list. Its message is truly poweful... and scary all at the same time...
-------------- Begin Forwarded Message ----------

"Daddy, how much do you make an hour?"
With a timid voice and idolizing eyes, the little boy greeted his father as
he returned from work.

Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a glaring look, the father said:
"Look, son, not even your mother knows that.  Don't bother me now, I'm
tired."

"But Daddy, just tell me please!  How much do you make an hour?" the boy
insisted.  The father, finally giving up, replied: "Twenty dollars per
hour."

"Okay, Daddy.  Could you loan me ten dollars?" the boy asked.

Showing his restlessness and positively disturbed, the father yelled: "So
that was the reason you asked how much I earn, right?  Go to sleep and
don't bother me anymore!"

It was already dark and the father was meditating on what he said and was
feeling guilty.  Maybe he thought, his son wanted to buy something.
Finally, trying to ease his mind, the father went to his son's room.

"Are you asleep, son?" asked the father.

"No, Daddy.  Why?" replied the boy, partially asleep.

"Here's the money asked for earlier, " the father said.

"Thanks, Daddy!" rejoiced the son, while putting his hand under his
pillow and removing some money.

"Now I have enough!  Now I have twenty dollars!" the boy said to his
father, who was gazing at his son, confused at what his son had just
said. "Daddy, could you sell me one hour of your time?"

--------- End forwarded message ----------

(Thanks to Don Marr for the message forward)

The following appeared in the now-discontinued "Special Angels" list for
adoptive parents. Its got a good message:


If I Had My Child To Raise Over Again
-----------------------------------------------------

If i had my child to raise over again,
I'd build self-esteem first , and build the house later.
I'd finger paint more,and paint fingers less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch,and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often,and affirm much more often.
I'd model less about the love of power and more about the power of
love.
        By: Diane Loomans

Posted to Christian Parents of Special Kids a while back by the child's
mother. You can join that list at CP-SK@onelist.com:

If you've already read this, I'm sorry. There are many on this list that I
never got to share it with....  IF ONLY HIS LITTLE MOUTH COULD November 24,
1996 2:47AM "God would not let me sleep until I wrote this out."

His little body may not work,
the way a body should;
but he would tell you of Jesus' love,
if only his little mouth could.

One sweet little heart always beats in rhythm,
it surely won't give out;
but Jesus Christ is dwelling there,
of this, please have no doubt.

Two little hands he cannot clap,
when he is feeling joyful;
but one day they will hold The Hand,
of the One who is most Royal.

Two wobbly legs are no use to him,
they barely hold his weight;
but these two legs, one glorious day,
will carry him through Heaven's gate.

Two little feet that cannot walk,
or skip, or hop, or run;
but when those two feet stand on streets of gold,
they'll be the ones having the most fun.

Two little ears hear everything,
there's nothing wrong with those.
He may not be exactly perfect,
but he's angel from head to toes.

His two little eyes, they cross a lot,
he doesn't see too good;
but he would tell you of Jesus' love,
if only his little mouth could.

by Lisa Little (mother of Justin C. Little, age 6)

From Norman Russell's Minute Messages, which are placed in a local
newspaper:

Minute Message 5/30/98

Double Nickel

	 On May 20 of this year. I passed a monumental mile post in my journey
of life. I became a senior citizen at the ripe old age of 55. It really
didn't hit me until I went to a restaurant in Austin Texas where I was
attending classes I looked at the menu and saw the words "For our senior
citizens, must be 55 or older "

	 Now that probably never bothered most of you, but as my eyes focused
on the word "senior" my thoughts began to run away with me. When I became
a senior in high school, I looked forward to graduation. As I finished my
senior year in college, graduation was the next step. I am again a senior,
am I again facing graduation? My former experiences sent me off into a new
adventure. But, what about this one?

	 The graduation I allude to is not retirement. though that might sound
appealing to some. no it is the time when I leave this world for a new one.
I have been promised a new existence. one that is beyond description. I
have
no idea how long that will be. but I want to be ready. Don't you?


Norm Russell

This list came about because of a number of friends I have been sending
devotionals to that I've found on the web. After a while,
you forget who you sent what to. And even though I thought the particular
article was useful, you never really know if THEY did. So here we are,
doing the internet equivalent of "echomail" that we did on the BBS's. This
way those who -want- to read what I (or you) find interesting can subscribe
to the list and the others won't be bothered.

	 Feel free to post any information at all of a devotional/inspirational
nature here. The best guideline is that if YOU think its good, post it. If
you were touched by it, someone else is likely to be to. Cross-posts from
other discussion groups are welcomed, if allowed by the other source's
moderator/owner or whatever.

	 Your original works are also welcome, and unless you object (let me know)
I'd like to add them to my devotionals website as well. This is an open
list, I do not filter submissions (or predict any need to do so) so
whatever you send is in the list immediately. Unless unforseen problems
develop, that's how it will remain.

Mark R. Magill, Moderator
http://home1.gte.net/mmagill (Christian Resources)