Story: One minute can change your life

During his college years, Rogers spent a summer in an Idaho logging camp.

At one point, the superintendent had to leave for a few days and put Rogers in charge.

"What if the men refuse to follow my orders?" Rogers asked.  He thought of Tony, an immigrant worker who grumbled and growled all day, giving the other men a hard time.

"Fire them," the superintendent said.  Then, as if reading Rogers' mind, he added, "I suppose you think you are going to fire Tony if you get the chance.  I'd feel badly about that.  I have been logging for 40 years.  Tony is the most reliable worker I've ever had.  I know he is a grouch and that he hates everybody and everything.  But he comes in first and leaves last.

There has not been an accident for eight years on the hill where he works."

Rogers took over the next day.  He went to Tony and spoke to him.  "Tony, do you know I'm in charge here today?"

Tony grunted.

"I was going to fire you the first time we tangled, but I want you to know I'm not," he told Tony, adding what the superintendent had said.

When he finished, Tony dropped the shovelful of sand he had held and tears streamed down his face.  "Why he no tell me dat eight years ago?"

That day Tony worked harder than ever before -- and he smiled!  He later said to Rogers, "I told Maria you first foreman in deese country who ever say, 'Good work, Tony,' and it make Maria feel like Christmas."

Rogers went back to school after that summer.

Twelve years later he met Tony again.  Tony was superintendent for railroad construction for one of the largest logging companies in the West.  Rogers asked him how he came to California and happened to have such success.

Tony replied, "If it not be for the one minute you talk to me back in Idaho, I keel somebody someday.  One minute, she change my whole life."

Story: Man with a extra-large heart

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.  We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out-patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door.  I opened it to see a truly awful looking man.  "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body.

But the appalling thing was his face - lopsided from swelling, red and raw.

Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening.  I've come to see if you've a room for just one night.  I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning. "

He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room.  "I guess it's my face...  I know it looks terrible, but the doctor says with a few more treatments..."

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch.  My bus leaves early in the morning."

I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch.  I went inside and finished getting supper.  When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us.  "No thank you.  I have plenty."  And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes.  It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body.  He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury.

He didn't tell it by way of complaint.  In fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing.  He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer.  He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.

At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him.  When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch.  He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment?  I won't put you out a bit.  I can sleep fine in a chair."  He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home.  Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind."

I told him he was welcome to come again.

And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning.  As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen.  He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh.  I knew his bus left at 4:00 am, and wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden.  Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish or oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed.  Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious.

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning.  "Did you keep that awful looking man last night?  I turned him away!  You can lose roomers by putting up such people!"

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice.  But oh!  If only they could have known him, perhaps their illness would have been easier to bear.  I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse.  As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms.  But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket.

I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!"

My friend changed my mind.  "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail.  It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden."

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in Heaven.  "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman.  "He won't mind starting in this small body."

All this happened long ago - and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.

Story: A beautiful day

A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign which said: 'I am blind, please help.'

There were only a few coins in the hat. A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words.

He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.

Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were. The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, 'Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?'

The man said, 'I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way.' What he had written was: 'Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it.'

Do you think the first sign and the second sign were saying the same thing?

Of course both signs told people the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people they were so lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?

Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have.
Be creative...
Be innovative...
Think differently and positively.

Invite others towards good with wisdom. Live life with no excuse and love with no regrets. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence.. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.

Great men say, 'Life has to be an incessant process of repair and reconstruction, of discarding evil and developing goodness.... In the journey of life, if you want to travel without fear, you must have the ticket of a good conscience.'

The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling...
And even more beautiful is, knowing that you are the reason behind it!!! 

Story: Being prepared for the storm

Years ago, a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking havoc on the buildings and crops. As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received A steady stream of refusals.

Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer. "Are you a good farm hand?" the farmer asked him. "Well, I can sleep when the storm rages," answered the little man.

Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, Hired him. The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the farmer felt satisfied with the man's work. Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook the little man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming!  Tie things down before they blow away!" The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the storm blows."

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead, he hurried outside to prepare for the storm. To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins. The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred. The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down.

Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant, so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

When you're prepared, spiritually, mentally, and physically, you have nothing to fear. Can you sleep when the
wind blows through your life? The hired hand in the story was able to sleep because he had secured the farm against the storm. We secure ourselves against the storms of life by grounding ourselves in the Word of God.
We don't need to understand, we just need to hold His hand to have peace in the middle of storms.

What is peace ?

There once was a king who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of peace. Many artists tried. The king looked at all the pictures. But there were only two he really liked, and he had to choose between them.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror for peacefully towering mountains all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains, too. But these were rugged and bare.  Above was an angry sky, from which rain fell and in which lightning played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all. But when the king looked closely, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of  angry water, sat the mother bird on the nest--in perfect peace.

Which picture do you think won the prize? The king chose the second picture. Do you know why?

"Because," explained the king, "peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace."

"When Life gives you a thousand reasons to cry, Show that you have a million reasons to smile.” 

Faith story - Spider web and brick wall

During World War II, a U.S. Marine was seperated from his unit on a Pacific island.  The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the crossfire , he had lost touch with his comrades.

Alone in jungle, he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction.  Scrambling for cover, he found his way up a high ridge to several small caves in the rock.  He quickly crawled inside one of the caves.  Although safe for the moment, he realized that once the enemy soldiers looking for him swept the ridge, they would methodically search all the caves, and he would be discovered and killed.

As he waited, he prayed, "Lord, if it be your will, please protect me.  Whatever Your will, though, I love and trust You.  Amen."

After praying, he lay quietly listening to the enemy begin to draw closer.  He thought, "Well, I guess the Lord isn't going to help me out of this one."  Then he saw a spider begin to build a web over the front of his cave.

As he watched the spider layering strand after strand of web across the opening to the cave, he thought, "Hah!  What I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent me is a spider web.  God does have a sense of humor."

As the enemy drew closer, he watched from the darkness of his hideout and could see them searching one cave after another.  As they came to his, he got ready to make his last stand.  To his amazement, after glancing in the direction of the cave, they moved on.  Suddenly, he realized that with the spider web over the entrance, his cave looked as if no one had entered for quite a  while.

"Lord, forgive me," prayed the young man.  "I had forgotten that in You a spider's web is stronger than a brick wall."

We all face times of great trouble.  When we do, it is so easy to forget that God can work in our lives, sometimes in the most surprising ways.

Story: Choices made by angels

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family.

The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room.

Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement.

As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it.

When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied,

"Things aren't always what they seem."

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife.

After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest.

When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears.

Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field.

The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel how could you have let this happen?

The first man had everything, yet you helped him, she accused.

The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let the cow die.

"Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied.

"When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall.

Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it."

"Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead.

A Valentine's Day Story

By: Jo Ann Larsen

 

Larry and Jo Ann were an ordinary couple.  They lived in an ordinary house on an ordinary street.  Like any other ordinary couple, they struggled to make ends meet and to do the right things for their children.

 

They were ordinary in yet another way; they had their squabbles.  Much of their conversation concerned what was wrong in their marriage and who was to blame.  Until one day when a most extraordinary event took place.

 

"You know, Jo Ann, I've got a magic chest of drawers.  Every time I open them, they're full of socks and underwear," Larry said.  "I want to thank you for filling them all these years."

 

Jo Ann stared at her husband over the top of her glasses.  "What do you want, Larry?"

 

"Nothing.  I just want you to know I appreciate those magic drawers."

 

This wasn't the first time Larry had done something odd, so Jo Ann pushed the incident out of her mind until a few days later.

 

"Jo Ann, thank you for recording so many check numbers in the ledger this month.  You put down the right numbers 15 out of 16 times.  That's a record."

 

Disbelieving what she had heard, Jo Ann looked up from her mending.  "Larry, you're always complaining about my recording the wrong check numbers.  Why stop now?"

 

"No reason.  I just wanted you to know I appreciate the effort you're making."

 

Jo Ann shook her head and went back to her mending.  "What's got into him?" she mumbled to herself.

 

Nevertheless, the next day when Jo Ann wrote a check at the grocery store, she glanced at her checkbook to confirm that she had put down the right check number.  "Why do I suddenly care about these dumb check numbers?" she asked herself.

 

She tried to disregard the incident, but Larry's strange behavior intensified.  "Jo Ann, that was a great dinner," he said one evening.  "I appreciate all your effort.  Why, in the past 15 years I'll bet you've fixed over 14,000 meals for me and the kids."  Then "Gee, Jo Ann, the house looks spiffy.  You've really worked hard to get it looking so good."  And even "Thanks, Jo Ann, for just being you.  I really enjoy your company."

 

Jo Ann was growing worried.  "Where's the sarcasm, the criticism?" she wondered.

 

Her fears that something peculiar was happening to her husband were confirmed by 16-year-old Shelly, who complained, "Dad's gone bonkers, Mom.  He just told me I looked nice.  With all this makeup and these sloppy clothes, he still said it.  That's not Dad, Mom.  What's wrong with him?"

 

Whatever was wrong, Larry didn't get over it.  Day in and day out he continued focusing on the positive.

 

Over the weeks, Jo Ann grew more accustomed to her mate's unusual behavior and occasionally gave him a grudging, "Thank you."  She prided herself on taking it all in stride, until one day something so peculiar happened, she became completely discombobulated:  "I want you to take a break," Larry said.  "I am going to do the dishes.  So please take your hands off that frying pan and leave the kitchen."

 

(Long, long pause)

 

"Thank you, Larry.  Thank you very much!"

 

Jo Ann's step was now a little lighter, her self-confidence higher and once in a while she hummed.  She didn't seem to have as many blue moods anymore.  "I rather like Larry's new behavior," she thought.

 

That would be the end of the story except one day another most extraordinary event took place.  This time it was Jo Ann who spoke.  "Larry," she said, "I want to thank you for going to work and providing for us all these years.  I don't think I've ever told you how much I appreciate it."

 

Larry has never revealed the reason for his dramatic change of behavior no matter how hard Jo Ann has pushed for an answer, and so it will remain one of life's mysteries.  But it's one I'm thankful to live with.

 

You see, I am Jo Ann. 

Wise story: Dog, squirrel and the panther

An old Dobermann starts chasing rabbits and before long, discovers that he's lost. Wandering about, he notices a panther heading rapidly in his direction with the intention of having lunch.
The old Dobermann thinks, "Oh, oh! I'm in deep shit now!"
Noticing some bones on the ground close by, he immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat. Just as the panther is about to leap, the old Dobermann exclaims loudly,
"Boy, that was one delicious panther! I wonder, if there are any more around here?"
Hearing this, the young panther halts his attack in mid-strike, a look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees.
"Whew!," says the panther, "That was close! That old Dobermann nearly had me!"
Meanwhile, a squirrel who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the panther. So, off he goes.
The squirrel soon catches up with the panther, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the panther.
The young panther is furious at being made a fool of and says, "Here, squirrel, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine!"
Now, the old Dobermann sees the panther coming with the squirrel on his back and thinks, "What am I going to do now?," but instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hasn't seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old Dobermann says .......
"Where's that squirrel? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another panther!"

Moral of this story...

Don't mess with the old dogs... Age and skill will always overcome youth and treachery!
Bull Shit and brilliance only come with age and experience.

Spiritual: Pushing a rock based on advice from the Lord

A man was sleeping one night in his cabin when suddenly his room filled with light, and God appeared. The Lord told the man he had work for him to do, and showed him a large rock in front of his cabin. The Lord explained that the man was to push against the rock with all his might. So, this the man did, day after day.

For many years he toiled from sun up to sun down, his shoulders set squarely against the cold, massive surface of the unmoving rock, pushing with all of his might. Each night the man returned to his cabin sore and worn out, feeling that his whole day had been spent in vain.

Since the man was showing discouragement, the adversary (Satan) decided to enter the picture by placing thoughts into the weary mind: "You have been pushing against that rock for a long time, and it hasn't moved." Thus, he gave the man the impression that the task was impossible and that he was a failure. These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man.

Satan said, "Why kill yourself over this? Just put in your time, giving just the minimum effort; and that will be good enough." That's what the weary man planned to do, but decided to make it a Matter of Prayer and to take his troubled thoughts to the Lord.

"Lord," he said, "I have labored long and hard in your service, putting all my strength to do that which you have asked. Yet, after all this time, I have not even budged that rock by half a millimeter. What is wrong? Why am I failing?

The Lord responded compassionately, "My friend, when I asked you to serve Me and you accepted, I told you that your task was to push against the rock with all of your strength, which you have done. Never once did I mention to you that I expected you to move it. Your task was to push. And now you come to Me with your strength spent, thinking that you have failed. But, is that really so?

"Look at yourself. Your arms are strong and muscled, your back sinewy and brown; your hands are callused from constant pressure, your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposition you have grown much, and your abilities now surpass that which you used to have.

"True, you haven't moved the rock. But your calling was to be obedient and to push and to exercise your faith and trust in My wisdom. That you have done. Now I, my friend, will move the rock."

*At times, when we hear a word from God, we tend to use our own intellect to decipher what He wants, when actually what God wants is just a simple obedience and faith in Him.

By all means, exercise the faith that moves mountains, but know that it is still God who moves the mountains.

When everything seems to go wrong .... just P.U.S.H.!

When the job gets you down ... just P.U.S.H.!

When people don't react the way you think they should .... just P.U.S.H.

When your money is "gone" and the bills are due ..... just P.U.S.H.!

When people just don't understand you .... just.. P.U.S.H.!

P= Pray
U= Until
S= Something
H= Happens

Spiritual story: THE PERFECT MISTAKE

My Mother's father worked as a carpenter..

On this particular day, he was building some crates for the clothes
his church was sending to orphanages in China.

On his way home, he reached into his shirt pocket to find his
glasses, but they were gone. When he mentally replayed his earlier
actions, he realized what had happened; the glasses had slipped out
of his pocket unnoticed and fallen into one of the crates, which he
had nailed shut.

His brand new glasses were heading for China!

The Great Depression was at its height and Grandpa had six children.

He had spent $20 for those glasses that very morning.

He was upset by the thought of having to buy another pair. "It's not
fair," he told God as he drove home in frustration.

"I've been very faithful in giving of my time and money to your work,
and now this." Months later, the director of the orphanage was on
furlough in the United States.

He wanted to visit all the churches that supported him in China, so
he came to speak one Sunday at my grandfather's small church in
Chicago.

The missionary began by thanking the people for their faithfulness in
supporting the orphanage. "But most of all," he said,

"I must thank you for the glasses you sent last year. You see, the
Communists had just swept through the orphanage, destroying
everything, including my glasses. I was desperate. Even if I had the
money, there was simply no way of replacing those glasses.

Along with not being able to see well, I experienced headaches every
day, so my coworkers and I were much in prayer about this.

Then your crates arrived. When my staff removed the covers, they
found a pair of glasses lying on top.

The missionary paused long enough to let his words sink in.

Then, still gripped with the wonder of it all, he continued:

"Folks, when I tried on the glasses, it was as though they had been
custom made just for me!

I want to thank you for being a part of that."

The people listened, happy for the miraculous glasses.

But the missionary surely must have confused their church with
another, they thought. There were no glasses on their list of items
to be sent overseas.

But sitting quietly in the back, with tears streaming down his face,
an ordinary carpenter realized the Master Carpenter had used him in
an extraordinary way. There are times we want to blame God instead of
thanking him!

Spiritual story: Finding your own Guardian Angel

There was this little girl sitting by herself in the park. Everyone passed
by her and never stopped to see why she looked so sad.

Dressed in a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and
watched the people go by. She never tried to speak. She never said a word.
Many people passed by her, but no one would stop.

The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see If the
little girl would still be there.

Yes, she was there, right in the very spot where she was yesterday, and
still with the same sad look in her eyes. Today I was to make my own move
and walk over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of
strange people is not a place for young children to play alone.

As I got closer I could see the back of the little girl's dress. It was
grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the reason people just passed by and
made no effort to speak to her. Deformities are a low blow to our society
and, heaven forbid if you make a step toward assisting someone who is
different.

As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my
intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more
clearly. She was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form.

I smiled to let her know it was okay - I was there to help, to talk. I sat
down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello."

The little girl acted shocked, and stammered a, "Hi," after a long stare
into my eyes.

I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked until darkness fell and the
park was completely empty. I asked the girl why she was so sad.

The little girl looked at me with a sad face said, "Because, I'm different."

I immediately said, "That you are!" and smiled.

The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know."

"Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel - sweet and innocent."

She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said,
"Really?"

"Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all the people
walking by."

She nodded her head yes, and smiled.

With that she opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to
spread, then she said, "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in
her eye.

I was speechless -- sure I was seeing things.

She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job here
is done."

I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"

She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You're the only one that could see me,"
and then she was gone. And with that, my life was changed dramatically.

So, when you think you're all you have, remember, your angel is always
watching over you.

SEVEN REASONS TO CRAWL UNDER A ROCK...

1. CURL UP AND DIE........I walked into a hair salon with my husband
and three kids in tow and asked loudly, "How much do you charge
for a shampoo and a blow job?"
Melinda Lowe, 39, SeguinTX

2. PAD PLEASE.......... An insurance man visited me at home to
talk about our mortgage insurance. He was throwing a lot of facts
and figures at me, and I wanted to follow as best I could, so I told
my 6-year-old son to run and get me a pad. He came back and
handed me a Kotex right in front of our guest.
Kate Newman, 46, Winston-Salem,NC

3. HO, HO, HO............. I was taking a shower when my 2 year old
son came into the bathroom and wrapped himself in toilet paper.
Although he made a mess, he looked adorable, so I ran for my camera
and took a few shots. They came out so well that I had copies made
and included one with each of our Christmas cards. Days later, a relative
called about the picture, laughing hysterically, and suggesting I take
a closer look. Puzzled, I stared at the photo and was shocked to discover
that in addition to my son, I had captured my reflection in the mirror
wearing
nothing but a camera!
Name Withheld

4. LADY GOLFER................ I was at the golf store comparing different
kinds of golf balls. I was unhappy with the women's type I had been using.
After browsing for several minutes, I was approached by one of the
good looking gentlemen who works at the store! . He asked if he could
help me. Without thinking, I looked at him and said, "I think I like
playing with men's balls."
Colleen Collins, 31, Ferndale, MI

5. NUTS ABOUT YOU............My sister and I were at the mall and
passed by a store that sold a variety of nuts. As we were looking
at the display case, the boy behind the counter asked if we needed
any help. I replied, "No, I'm just looking at your nuts." My sister started
to laugh hysterically, the boy grinned, and I turned beet red
and walked away. To this day, my sister has never let me forget.
Faye Emerick, 34, Ellerslie, MD

6. PRICELESS.............A lady picked up several items at a discount store.
When she finally got up to the checker, she learned that one of her
items had no price tag. Imagine her embarrassment when
the checker got on the intercom and boomed out for all the
store to hear,"PRICE CHECK ON LANE THIRTEEN, TAMPAX,
SUPER SIZE." That was bad enough, but somebody at the rear
of the store apparently misunderstood the word "Tampax" for THUMBTACKS."
In a business-like tone, a voice boomed back over the intercom.
"DO YOU WANT THE KIND YOU PUSH IN WITH YOUR THUMB
OR THE KIND YOU POUND IN WITH A HAMMER?"

7. MOM'S ADVICE......... A teacher noticed that a little boy at the back
of the class was squirming around, scratching his crotch and not
paying attention. She went back to find out what was going on.
He was quite embarrassed and whispered that he had just recently
been circumcised and he was quite itchy. The teacher told him to
go down to the nurse's office. He was to phone his mother and
ask her what he should do about it. He did it and returned to his class.
Suddenly, there was a commotion at the back of the room.
She went back to investigate only to find him sitting at his desk
with his penis hanging out. "I thought I told you to call your Mom.
" she screamed. "I did," he said "And she told me that if I could
stick it out till noon she would come and get me."

There were a thousand reasons not to stop

I was running late for a very important... well, whatever it was that I was running late for that day. The freeway was busy -- I might have caused an accident or something. Surely the Highway Patrol would be along soon, and it's their job to help stranded motorists, isn't it? And I had on my navy blue suit, with a light blue shirt and a silk tie. Not exactly car-fixing clothes, you know?

Let's see -- that makes 1,004 reasons not to stop. And here's 1,005: I am the world's worst auto mechanic. Public enemy No. 1 on the AAA's Ten Most Wanted list. Mr. WhatsaWrench.

The first time I tried to change my car's oil myself I did fine until I forgot to put the new oil in. The boys down at the garage had a big laugh over that one. The next time, I remembered to put in the new oil -- only I put it in the transmission. That triggered a letter from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Chryslers. They suggested I get a horse.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. God has given me other talents to use for the benefit of mankind. But I'm not sure how much it would have helped that lady who was stranded by the side of the freeway if I would have pulled over and belched on cue.

So I didn't pull over. I drove on by, just like hundreds of other drivers on the freeway that day. And I felt guilty about it.

So I turned off at the next exit and made my way back to see if I could at least give her a lift or something. But by the time I got back to her, an Hispanic gentleman had pulled in behind her, and was tinkering away at her car's engine like he knew what he was doing.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.

"No, thank you," the lady replied. "This nice man says he can fix it."

At that moment, a voice from under the hood shouted: "Okay, try it now!"

The woman reached for the key and turned it. The engine started beautifully. "It was your serpentine belt," the man explained, wiping his hands on his pants. "It slipped off. It's pretty worn. You want to take that to a mechanic, get a new one put on."

The woman tried to give the freeway Samaritan some money, but he declined and waved as she drove off. It wasn't until we started walking toward our cars that I noticed he had five more reasons not to stop than I did; his family was sitting in the station wagon, waiting patiently.

"Do you stop and help people like this often?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Somebody has to," he said. "What's she going to do if nobody helps?"

And for him, that was reason enough.

In his final sermon, given the night before his assassination, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. took as his text the Biblical parable of the Good Samaritan. In the story, a man is attacked by thieves and left by the roadside. Several travelers happen upon him, but they pass by. Eventually, someone does stop to help, although it is the one person who might have had a reason not to. He is a Samaritan and the victim is a Jew. Those folks didn't get along any better back then than they do now.

According to Dr. King, those who passed by the injured man were asking themselves the wrong question: "If I help this man, what will happen to me?"

The Good Samaritan stopped to help because he asked the right question: "If I don't help this man, what will happen to him?"

What a friend does

Jack tossed the papers on my desk -- his eyebrows knit into a straight
line as he glared at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He jabbed a finger at the proposal. "Next time you want to change
anything, ask me first," he said, turning on his heels and leaving me
stewing in anger.

How dare he treat me like that, I thought. I had changed one long
sentence, and corrected grammar -- something I thought I was paid to do.

It's not that I hadn't been warned. The other women, who had served in
my place before me, called him names I couldn't repeat. One co-worker
took me aside the first day. "He's personally responsible for two
different secretaries leaving the firm," she whispered.

As the weeks went by, I grew to despise Jack. It was against everything
I believed in -- turn the other cheek and love your enemies. But Jack
quickly slapped a verbal insult on any cheek turned his way. I prayed
about it, but to be honest, I wanted to put him in his place, not love him.

One day, another of his episodes left me in tears. I stormed into his
office, prepared to lose my job if needed, but not before I let the man
know how I felt. I opened the door and Jack glanced up.

"What?" he said abruptly.

Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After all, he deserved it.

I sat across from him. "Jack, the way you've been treating me is wrong.
I've never had anyone speak to me that way. As a professional, it's
wrong, and it's wrong for me to allow it to continue," I said. Jack
snickered nervously and leaned back in his chair. I closed my eyes
briefly. God help me, I prayed.

"I want to make you a promise. I will be a friend," I said. "I will
treat you as you deserve to be treated, with respect and kindness. You
deserve that," I said. "Everybody does." I slipped out of the chair and
closed the door behind me.

Jack avoided me the rest of the week. Proposals, specs, and letters
appeared on my desk while I was at lunch, and the corrected versions
were not seen again. I brought cookies to the office one day and left a
batch on Jack's desk. Another day I left a note. "Hope your day is going
great," it read.

Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there
were no other episodes. Co-workers cornered me in the break room.

"Guess you got to Jack," they said. "You must have told him off good." I
shook my head.

"Jack and I are becoming friends," I said in faith. I refused to talk
about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him. After
all, that's what friends do.

One year after our "talk", I discovered I had cancer. I was 32, the
mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer I had
were not great for long-term survival. After surgery, I visited with
friends and loved ones who tried to find the right words to say. No one
knew what to say. Many said the wrong things. Others wept, and I tried
to encourage them. I clung to hope.

One day, the door darkened in my small hospital room and Jack stood
awkwardly on the threshold. I waved him in with a smile and he walked
over to my bed and, without a word, placed a bundle beside me. Inside
lay several bulbs.

"Tulips," he said.

I smiled, not understanding.

He cleared his throat. "If you plant them when you get home, they'll
come up next spring." He shuffled his feet. "I just wanted you to know
that I think you'll be there to see them when they come up."

Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand. "Thank you," I whispered.

Jack grasped my hand and gruffly replied, "You're welcome. You can't see
it now, but next spring you'll see the colors I picked out for you." He
turned and left without a word.

I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil
every spring for over ten years now. In fact, this past September the
doctor declared me cured. I've seen my children graduate from high
school and enter college. I've celebrated twenty-two years of marriage
with my husband.

In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few
words said all the right things.

After all, that's what friends do.

The pastor's son

The Pastor's Son

Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at their church, the pastor and his eleven year-old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside as well as pouring down rain. The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said, "Okay, Dad; I'm ready."
His pastor dad asked, "Ready for what?"
"Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out."
Dad responded, "Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring down rain."
The boy gave his dad a surprised look asking, "But, Dad, aren't people still going to Hell even though it's raining?" Dad answered, "Son, I am not going out in this weather."
Despondently, the boy asked, "Dad, can I go? Please?"
His father hesitated for a moment then said, "Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, but be careful." "Thanks, Dad!" And with that, he was off and out into the rain. This eleven year-old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract.
After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his very last tract. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand his last tract to, but the streets were totally deserted.
Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the doorbell. He rang it again and again, but still no one answered. He continued to wait for a while - still no answer.
Finally, this eleven year-old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited - something was holding him there on the front porch. He rang again and this time the door slowly opened.
Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked, "What can I do for you, son?" With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said, "Ma'am, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that Jesus really does love you, and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about Jesus and His great love."
With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She called to him as he departed. "Thank you, son! And God bless you!" Well, the following Sunday morning in church, Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, "Does anybody have a testimony or want to say anything?"
Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet. As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face as she said, "No one in this church knows me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday, I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then I stood on the chair, lonely and brokenhearted. I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me.
"I thought, 'I'll wait a minute and whoever it is will go away.' I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent. And the the person ringing also started knocking loudly! I thought to myself again, 'Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.' I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder.
"When I opened the door and looked, I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life! His smile, oh, I could never describe it to you! And the words that came from his mouth caused my heart, that had long been dead, to leap to life as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, 'Ma'am, I just came to tell you that Jesus really does love you.' Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand. As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read every word in this tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair; I wouldn't be needing them anymore.
"You see, I am now a happy child of God and since the address of your church was on the back of this tract, I have come here to personally say, 'Thank you,' to the little angel who came just in the nick of time and by doing so, spared my soul from an eternity in Hell."
There wasn't a dry eye in the church, and as shouts of praise and honor to the King resounded off the very rafters of the building. Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated. He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.
Probably no church has had a more glorious moment and probably this universe has never seen a father that was more filled with love and honor for his son - except for One. This Father also allowed His Son to go out into a cold and dark world.

Spending time with family

While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a
playground. "That's my son over there," she said, pointing to a little boy in a red
sweater who was gliding down the slide. "He's a fine looking boy" the man said. "That's my daughter on the bike in the white dress."
Then, looking at his watch, he called to his daughter. "What do you say we go, Melissa?" Melissa pleaded, "Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes."
The man nodded and Melissa continued to ride her bike to her heart's content. Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his daughter. "Time to go now?"
Again Melissa pleaded, "Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes."
The man smiled and said, "OK."
"My, you certainly are a patient father," the woman responded.
The man smiled and then said, "Her older brother Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I'd give anything for just five more minutes with him. I've vowed not to make the same mistake with Melissa.
She thinks she has five more minutes to ride her bike. The truth is, I get Five more minutes to watch her play."

Wrong number saves a life

A pastor was working late on a Saturday night at the Almighty God Tabernacle. Around 10:00PM he decided to call his wife before he left for home. Although the pastor let the phone ring several times, his wife didn't answer. A few moments later he
tried again and she answered right away. He asked her why she hadn't answered before, and she said that the phone hadn't rung.

The following Monday, the pastor received a call at the church office. The caller wanted to know why the pastor had called him Saturday night.

The pastor was confused. The caller said, "It rang and rang, but I didn't answer." The pastor remembered the incident and apologized for disturbing him, explaining that he'd intended to call his wife and must have dialed the wrong number.

The man said, "That's OK. Let me tell you my story. You see, I was planning to commit suicide that night, but before I did, I prayed, 'God if you're there, and you don't want me to do this, give me a sign now.' At that point my phone started to ring. I
looked at the Caller ID, and it said, 'Almighty God.' I was just too afraid to answer!"

The yellow shirt

The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.

"You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!" "It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new
apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.

The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.

The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt! And so the pattern was set.

On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up." I tried to
picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow
shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armour? My courage was renewed.

Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer. Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER." But I didn't stop there. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.

Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: "Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother."

That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: "I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am.
I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me."

The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57. I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

Three Tasks

A man walks into a hotel bar, claims a table and walks up to the bartender to order a beer. He notices a jar of money behind the counter. He asks the bartender what the jar is all about.

"We have a little contest going on here," the bartender replies. "Want to play?"

"OK, how?" asks the man.

The bartender explains, "Well, first you put some money in the jar and then you have to complete three tasks. You finish all three and the money in the jar is yours."

"What are the three tasks?" the man asks.

"Well," replies the bartender holding up a little bottle, "First you have to drink this bottle of hot sauce. It's from Africa, and it's hotter than anything you've ever tasted."

"OK," replies the man.

The bartender continues, "Then there's a dog out back. Mean, nasty old thing. She has a bad tooth, and it's causing her a lot of pain. You have to pull it out."

The man thinks for a moment.

"Finally," the bartender says, "there's an old woman in the back of the bar. See her?" He points to a large woman sitting in the corner who is smiling and waving. "She hasn't been with a man in over 30 years. You have to sleep with her."

"Let me think about it," the man says. He goes back to his table and finishes his beer. Then he has a few more. Then a few more. Eventually, he gets up the courage to do the three tasks. He staggers back to the bartender, shoves a bill into the jar and and exclaims, "I'll do it! Let me see that sauce!"

The bartender hands him the sauce. He swills it down, howls loudly and runs for the drinking fountain.

"OK, the dog?" he says.

"Out back," the bartender says.

The man goes out back. For several minutes, yelping and scratching noises are heard. They eventually die down.

"Alright," the man says loudly as he staggers back into the bar. "Where's that lady who needs her tooth pulled?"