New board

[Moscapoet]

Amen! That is why I haven't argued with Him about the path He put me on this year. Your Pastor was called to a different mission and your new Pastor will be too. As long as your selection process includes The Lord in prayer you'll get the right one to take you where He wants you.

[celtic_girlakp]

He is so powerful! He is certainly taking me on a trip right now.

[bot1tle]

The Old Man and the Dog by Catherine Moore
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.

"He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.

"You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services tog ether, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...

Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. .his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.
Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every
opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

[bot1tle]

A seminary professor was vacationing with his wife in Gatlinburg, TN.  One morning, they were eating breakfast at a little restaurant, hoping to enjoy a quiet, family meal.  While they were waiting for their food, they noticed a distinguished looking, white-haired man moving from table to table, visiting with the guests.  The professor leaned over and whispered to his wife, 'I hope he doesn't come over here.'  But sure enough, the man did come over to their table.

'Where are you folks from?' he asked in a friendly voice.  'Oklahoma,' they answered.

'Great to have you here in Tennessee,' the stranger said. ' What do you do for a living?'

'I teach at a seminary,' he replied.

'Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you?  Well, I've got a really great story for you.'  And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with the couple.

The professor groaned and thought to himself, 'Great . Just what I need ..another preacher story!'

The man started, 'See that mountain over there?  (pointing out the restaurant window).  Not far from the base of that mountain, there was a boy born to an unwed mother.  He had a hard time growing up, because every place he went, he was always asked the same question, 'Hey boy, Who's your daddy?'  Whether he was at school, in the grocery store or drug store, people would ask the same question, 'Who's your daddy?'

He would hide at recess and lunchtime from other students.  He would avoid going into stores because that question hurt him so bad.  'When he was about 12 years old, a new preacher came to his church.  He would always go in late and slip out early to avoid hearing the question, 'Who's your daddy?'

But one day, the new preacher said the benediction so fast that he got caught and had to walk out with the crowd.

Just about the time he got to the back door, the new preacher, not knowing anything about him, put his hand on his shoulder and asked him, 'Son, who's your daddy?'

The whole church got deathly quiet.  He could feel every eye in the church looking at him.  Now everyone would finally know the answer to the question, 'Who's your daddy?'

'This new preacher, though, sensed the situation around him and using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could give, said the following to that scared little boy.  'Wait a minute!  I know who you are!  I see the family resemblance now.  You are a child of God.'
With that he patted the boy on his shoulder and said, 'Boy, you've got a great inheritance.  Go and claim it.'

'With that, the boy smiled for the first time in a long time and walked out the door a changed person.  He was never the same again.  Whenever anybody asked him, 'Who's your Daddy?' he'd just tell them, '"I'm a Child of God.''

The distinguished gentleman got up from the table and said, 'Isn't that a great story?'

The professor responded that it really was a great story!
As the man turned to leave, he said, 'You know, if that new preacher hadn't told me that I was one of God's children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!'  And he walked away.

The seminary professor and his wife were stunned.  He called the waitress over and asked her, 'Do you know who that man was -- the one who just left that was sitting at our table?'

The waitress grinned and said, 'Of course, everybody here knows him.  That's Ben Hooper.  He's the former governor of Tennessee!'
Someone in your life today needs a reminder that they're one of God's children!

'The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of God stands forever.' ~~Isaiah

YOU'RE ONE OF GOD'S CHILDREN!!! HAVE A GREAT DAY!

[Moscapoet]

Thank you for both of those inspirational stories bot1tle. They have special meaning as I read them on Easter Sunday.

[bot1tle]

The Buzzard, The Bat and the Bumblebee

THE BUZZARD:

If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6 feet by 8 feet and is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner.  The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to 12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.

THE BAT:

The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkable nimble
creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place.  If it is placed
on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and,
no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it
can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.

THE BUMBLEBEE:

A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler, will be there
until it dies, unless it is taken out.  It never sees the means of escape
at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides
near the bottom.  It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely
destroys itself.

PEOPLE: In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat, and the bumblebee.
We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing
that all we have to do is look up!

Sorrow looks back, Worry looks around, But faith looks up!

Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly and trust in our
Creator who loves us.

[Moscapoet]

What a marvelous post! Amen! Please allow me to add some things that come to mind from this.

         Sometimes we are like a buzzard scavenging for life's scraps when the bounty lays before us the whole time.

        Sometimes we are like a bat blind to the beauty around us and living in the darkness when the light is ever present and clears our vision.

        Sometimes we are like the bumblebee who is not supposed to be able to fly at all yet does when we simply believe.

         Those thoughts just came to me while reading your post. I love how The Lord inspires!

[bot1tle]

God determines who walks into your life....but it's up to you to decide who you let walk away,  who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.
 
God, please bless all my family and friends in whatever it is that You know they may be needing this day!
May their lives be full of Your peace,  prosperity, and power as they seek to have a closer relationship with You.
 
Amen.   

[Moscapoet]

Amen.

[bot1tle]

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old

Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa,

and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker,

and they were hoping for a miracle.

 

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family

we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the

euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would

be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as

though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's

family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for

the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.

Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any

difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's

death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are

shorter than human lives.

 

Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next

stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good

life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?"

The six-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that,

so they don't have to stay as long."

[donnis]

Such insight from a small child!  Truly out of the mouth of babes.  Unfortunately, there are people that could live 1000 years and never learn. 

Thanks for the story. 

Donnis

[bot1tle]

A  farmer had some puppies he needed to sell.. He painted a  sign
> advertising the 4 pups. And set about nailing it to a post on the  edge of
> his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he  felt a tug on
> his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of little  boy.
>
> "Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your pu  ppies."
>
> "Well," said the farmer,
> as he rubbed the sweat off the  back of his neck, "These puppies come from
> fine parents and cost a good  deal of money."
>
> The boy dropped his head for a moment.
> Then  reaching deep into his pocket,
> he pulled out a handful of change
> and  held it up to the farmer.
>
> "I've got thirty-nine cents.
> Is that  enough to take a look?"
>
> "Sure," said the farmer.
> And with that  he let out a whistle.
> "Here, Dolly!" he called.
>
> Out from the  doghouse and down the ramp ran
>
>
>
> Dolly followed by four  little balls of fur.
>
> The little boy pressed his face against the  chain link fence. His eyes
> danced with delight.
> As the dogs made  their way to the fence,
> the little boy noticed something else stirring  inside the doghouse.
>
> Slowly another little ball appeared, this one  noticeably smaller. Down the
> ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward  manner, the little pup began
> hobbling toward the others, doing its best  to catch up....
>
> "I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to  the runt. The farmer
> knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you  don't want that puppy. He
> will never be able to run and play with you  like these other dogs would."
>
> With that the little boy stepped back  from the fence, reached down, and
> began rolling up one leg of his  trousers.
>
> In doing s o he revealed a steel brace running down both  sides of his leg
> attaching itself to a specially made  shoe.
>
> Looking back up at the farmer, he said,
> "You see sir, I  don't run too well myself,
> and he will need someone who  understands."
>
> With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and  picked up the little
> pup.
>
> Holding it carefully handed it to the  little boy.
> "How much?" asked the little boy. "No charge," answered the  farmer,
> "There's no charge for love."
>
> The world is full of  people who need someone who understands .

[mainopsman]

A very good friend e-mailed this to me.  Thought it would be nice to share.


A PENNY
 
You always hear the usual stories of pennies on the sidewalk being good luck, gifts from angels, etc. This is the first time I've ever heard this twist on the story. Gives you something to think about.

Several years ago, a friend of mine and her husband were invited to spend the weekend at the husband's employer's home. My friend, was nervous about the weekend. The boss was very wealthy, with a fine home on the waterway, and cars costing more than her house
The first day and evening went well, and my friend was delighted to have this rare glimpse into how the very wealthy live. The husband's employer was quite generous as a host, and took them to the finest restaurants. Arlene knew she would never have the opportunity to indulge in this kind of extravagance again, so was enjoying herself immensely.

As the three of them w ere about to enter an exclusive restaurant that evening, the boss was walking slightly ahead of my friend and her husband.

He stopped suddenly, looking down on the pavement for a long, silent moment.

My friend wondered if she was supposed to pass him. There was nothing on the ground except a single darkened penny that someone had dropped, and a few cigarette butts.  Still silent, the man reached down and picked up the penny.

He held it up and smiled, then put it in his pocket as if he had found a great treasure. How absurd! What need did this man have for a single penny? Why would he even take the time to stop and pick it up?

Throughout dinner, the entire scene nagged at her. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She casually mentioned that her daughter once had a coin collection, and asked if the penny he had found had been of some value.

A smile crept across the man's face as he reached into his pocket for the penny and held it out for her to see. She had seen m any pennies before! What was t he point of this?

'Look at it.' He said. 'Read what it says.'
She read the words ' United States of America ' 'No, not that; read further.'
'One cent?' 'No, keep reading.'
'In God we Trust?'

'Yes!' 'And?'

'And if I trust in God, the name of God is holy, even on a coin Whenever I find a coin I see that inscription. It is written on every single United States coin, but we never seem to notice it! God drops a message right in front of me telling me t o trust Him? Who am I to pass it by? When I see a coin, I pray, I stop to see if my trust IS in God at that moment. I pick the coin up as a response to God; that I do trust in Him. For a short time, at least, I cher ish it as if it were gold. I think it is God's way of starting a conversation with me. Lucky for me, God is patient and pennies are plentiful!

When I was out shopping today, I found a penny on the sidewalk. I stopped and picked it up, and realized that I had been worrying and fretting in my mind abou t things I canno t change. I read the words, 'In God We Trust,' and had to laugh. Yes, God, I get the message.

It seems that I have been finding an inordinate number of pennies in the last few months, but then, pennies are plentiful! And, God is patient..
 
 




Thought for the Day:
 




If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.
 
 




God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain, but He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the way.
 




Read this line very slowly and let it sink in...
 




If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.
 
 
           JIM

[bot1tle]

Our 14 year old dog, Abbey, died last month.The day after she died,
>> my 4 year old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how
>> much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God
>> so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told
>> her that I thought we could so she dictated these words:
>>
>> Dear God,
>>
>> Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with
>> you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me
>> have her as my dog even though she got sick.
>>
>> I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to
>> swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will
>> know that she is my dog. I really miss her.
>>
>> Love , Meredith .
>>
>> We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and
>> Meredith hand addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address
>> on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the
>> envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the
>> letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into
>> the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if
>> God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.
>>
>> Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front
>> porch addressed, 'To Meredith , 'in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith
>> opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet
>> Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had
>> written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the
>> picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:
>>
>>
>> Dear Meredith ,
>>
>> Abbey arrived safely in heaven.
>>
>> Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away.
>>
>> Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it
>> stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't
>> need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your
>> picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for
>> you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by..
>>
>> Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for
>> helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother
>> you have. I picked her especially for you.
>>
>> I send my blessing s every day and remember that I love you very much.
>>
>> By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is love.
>>
>> Love,
>> God

[bot1tle]

The Dashhttp://www.dashpoemmovie.com/