CAA: Christian Anime Alliance

I'm a Ham radio operator and spend some time working with radios and electronics. So when I heard this story it really made me think! I hope that you will find some application in your own life as well... A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the basement shack with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time. Let me tell you about it.

I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know, the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whomever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles".

I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say. "Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet. Too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital."

He continued, "Let me tell you something, Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities." And that's when he began to explain his theory of "a thousand marbles."

"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years."

"Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3,900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now stick with me Tom, I'm getting to the important part."

"It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy."

"So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round-up 1,000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here in the shack next to my gear. Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and thrown it away."

"I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight."

"Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning, I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time."

"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again."

You could have heard a pin drop on the radio when this fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.

"C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."

"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together with the kids. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles."

Author Unknown

Have you ever wondered if you were capable of doing some terrible thing? The truth is that every person is capable of doing evil. I know that it is only the restraining power of God that has kept me from doing some terrible thing. None of us want to bring embarrassment to our friends, family, or community. None of us want to intentionally hurt someone else. But the truth is that life changing and life devastating decisions are often made in the whim of an instant. The decisions of an instant have ruined many a life. There is, however, one thing that will keep you from doing some terrible thing and at the same time propel you forward to your highest potential in life. That one thing is to be a friend of Jesus. Jesus says in John 15:15 “...I call you not servants...but I have called you friends.â€

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another obscure village, here He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty. Then for three years He was an itinerant preacher. He never had a family or owned a home. He never set foot inside a big city. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place He was born. He never wrote a book, or held an office. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness.

While He was still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against Him. His friends deserted Him. He was turned over to His enemies, and went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While He was dying, His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had --- His coat.

When He was dead, He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave. Nineteen centuries have come and gone, and today He is the central figure for much of the human race. All the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that ever sailed, and all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as this "One Solitary Life."

Author Unknown

A man came home from work late again, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year-old son waiting for him at the door. "Daddy, may I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure, what is it?" replied the man.

"Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?

"That's none of your business! What makes you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily.

"I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy.

"If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour."

"Oh," the little boy replied, head bowed. Looking up, he said, "Daddy, may I borrow $10.00 please?"

The father was furious. "If the only reason you wanted to know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you're being so selfish. I work long, hard hours everyday and don't have time for such childish games."

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy's questioning. How dare him ask such questions only to get some money.

After an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think he may have been a little hard on his son. Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00, and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door. "Are you asleep son?" he asked.

"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy.

"I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man. "It's been a long day and I took my aggravation out on you. Here's that $10.00 you asked for."

The little boy sat straight up, beaming. "Oh, thank you daddy!" he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some more crumpled up bills. The man, seeing that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at the man.

"Why did you want more money if you already had some?" the father grumbled.

"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied.

"Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?"

Share some time with those who need you.
They need our time more then we will ever know.

Author Unknown

A troubled man made an appointment with a rabbi. He was a wise and gentle rabbi. "Rabbi," said the man, wringing his hands, "I’m a failure. More than half the time I do not succeed in doing what I know I must."

"Oh," murmured the rabbi.

"Please say something wise, rabbi," pleaded the man. After much pondering, the rabbi replied, "Ah, my son, I give you this bit of wisdom: Go and look on page 930 of The New York Times Almanac for year 1970, and maybe you will find peace of mind."

Confused by such strange advice, the troubled man went to the library to look up the source. And this is what he found-lifetime batting averages for the world's greatest baseball players. Ty Cobb, the greatest slugger of them all, had a lifetime average of.367. Even the King of Swat, Babe Ruth, didn't do that well.

So the man returned to the rabbi and questioned, "Ty Cobb,.367. That's it?"

"Correct," countered the rabbi. "Ty Cobb,.367. He got a hit once out of every three times at bat. He didn’t even hit.500. So what do you expect already?"

"Aha," said the man, who thought he was a wretched failure because he succeeded only half the time at what he must do.

Theology is amazing. Holy books abound, even where we don't expect them.


More Sower's Seeds - Second Planting
Editor: Brian Cavanaugh, T.O.R

I was sitting at a traffic light this morning. The lady in front of me was going through papers on the seat of her car, and when the light changed to green she did not obey its command - a green light is a commandment - NOT a suggestion.

When the light turned to red, and she had still not moved, I began (with my windows up) screaming epithets and beating on my steering wheel. My expressions of distress were interrupted by a policeman, gun drawn, tapping on my window. Against my protestations of, "You can't arrest me for hollering in my car," he ordered me into the back seat of his police car.

After about two hours in a holding cell, the arresting officer advised me I was free to go. I said, "I knew you couldn't arrest me for what I was yelling in my own car. You haven't heard the last of this."

The officer replied, "I didn't arrest you for shouting in your car. I was directly behind you at the light. I saw you screaming and beating your steering wheel, and I said to myself, 'What a jerk. But there is nothing I can do to him for throwing a fit in his own car.' Then I noticed the 'Cross' hanging from your rear view mirror, the bright yellow 'Choose Life' license tag, the 'Jesus is Coming Soon' bumper sticker, and the Fish symbol, and I thought you must have stolen the car."

Author Unknown

by Jeanne Hill

I pretended to nap while mama talked to the doctor. Asthma, bronchitis, pneumonia, and now rickets--I had them all, hard diseases to treat back in 1936, when I was six years old. The doctor washed his hands in the kitchen of our small apartment just outside Kansas City, Kansas. "I’m glad to hear you’re moving to the country," he said. "Spring’s coming and this girl needs plenty of sunshine." He shut off the water. "And she must keep that cod liver oil down."

Hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep anything down. Even Mama’s delicious homemade bread.

Mama saw the doctor out, then moved my cot into the kitchen. "Let’s make soup," she said.

Before I’d gotten too weak to attend school, kids called me runt because I was so small and skinny. Mama said

I was "all eyes." But my big sister, Jo, always took up for me. Through our open third-floor window I could hear her now, laughing on the stoop with her friends. Because of me, she would have to leave them for a stinky old farm outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma. We would be close enough to Tulsa for Daddy to ply his carpenter trade there, but we’d no longer be city people.

That evening Daddy held a spoonful of soup to my lips. "We’re starting a big adventure tomorrow, Jenkie Girl, and you’ll need your strength," he said. I took a few sips but they promptly came back up again. "Don’t worry," Daddy said, patting my back. "You’re going to feel better real soon."

We packed our belongings into our truck first thing the next morning. Jo’s friends lined the sidewalk, and Mama tried to blink away her tears as the neighbor ladies blew their noses into their handkerchiefs. I felt like crying too as we pulled away. Not only was my family making a big sacrifice for me, they were acting like it was the natural thing to do. It doesn’t seem fair, God, I prayed. They do so much for me and I can’t do anything for them--not even get better!

There was no shortage of work on the farm. Not that I was any help. Dad cleared some land for a chicken house, and Jo helped Mama start a vegetable garden. On warm afternoons Mama rolled my bed into the tree-lined meadow. One day I watched Jo chase butterflies, making big swoops with her net. As I was about to fall asleep, I heard Daddy pull into the drive. A shrill noise was coming from inside his car. "Here we are," Daddy said, getting out. "We’re home." Who was he talking to? And what was that awful noise? Jo came running with her net and Mama let the screen door slam. "What’s all the commotion?" she called.

I’d been sick for so long I didn’t think I’d ever get well again. Then Daddy brought home Dempsey. Daddy ceremoniously pulled up his sleeves and reached into the backseat. Then he headed toward me, Mama and Jo at his heels. Daddy sat on the edge of my cot, something pink and squirmy in his arms. "It’s the runt pig of a litter," he said. "I saved her from the butcher." Scrawny and bare, the squealing piglet was all snout. I touched her curly tail and she snorted, which made me jump. I scratched behind the pig’s velvety ears. That seemed to calm her. "What should we call her?" Jo asked.

"How ’bout Dempsey, after the great boxer, since she’ll have to be a fighter to make it," Daddy suggested. I nodded and took the little pig in my arms. I was glad to be rooting for somebody else, for once.

Daddy built a wooden pen and trough on one side of the house. Mama would position my bed outside so I could watch Dempsey dig and roll in the mud while I lay in the sun. One day Jo put Dempsey next to me, and the little pig and I dozed together. I felt her fidgeting, so I pulled myself up and cradled her in my lap. Jo looked surprised when she came to fetch us. "Look at you, Sis," she said.

Yeah, I thought, look at me!

I still couldn’t manage to eat much of anything at mealtimes. Dempsey sure made up for it, though. She loved everything--especially Mama’s homemade bread. She’d take a big first bite right out of the center, then finish the rest of the soft white inside before devouring the crust. One evening when Mama handed me my tray, I picked up the slice of bread and bit into the middle just like Dempsey. My family perked up. Good going, Jenkie Girl," Daddy said. I finished the whole piece, crust last. "Try the vegetables," Mama suggested the next evening. "They’re fresh from the garden." Soon I was eating bread and veggies at every meal. Keeping something in my stomach helped me with the cod liver oil too.

Day by day the sun got fatter, and Mama’s garden flourished. One afternoon I was sitting up in bed, counting butterflies, when Dempsey started squealing in her pen. No one was around to put her on my lap. "What can I do, girl?" She looked at me with sad piggy eyes. "Okay," I said, "I’ll try." I slowly got up off the cot and started toward the pen. My steps were shaky, but I made it and patted Dempsey through the wooden slats. She nuzzled her warm snout gratefully into my palm.

Each day I got more confident about stepping over to the pen and started walking around it, holding on to the railing for support. Dempsey walked on the inside, my little pink shadow. Mama would watch while working in her garden, a big smile on her face.

Walking with Dempsey one afternoon, I glimpsed an ugly splotch of mud on her side. I knelt beside her and tried to brush it away. That’s when I noticed the sticky spots around her mouth. Honey . . . she’d eaten our leftover honey biscuits, then rolled in the mud.

"Mama!" I called. "Come quick!"

In an instant she appeared at the kitchen door. "Are you all right, Jeanne?" she asked.

"I’m fine, but Dempsey needs help." I asked for a pan of warm water, and a washcloth. Mama obliged and watched while I scrubbed Dempsey clean, as clean as a pig would want, anyway. I felt good too, and wondered if this was how Mama felt when she gave me a bath.

Then one evening there was a sudden cold snap. Mama bundled me up for bed in a heavy winter gown and socks. In the middle of the night, I sat up poker-straight: Dempsey must be freezing! I grabbed my shoes and coat and quietly went out the kitchen door. Inside the pen, Dempsey grunted and pressed her cold snout against my shin. I picked her up and promptly slumped down on the trough. "All that bread’s got you nice and fat," I congratulated her. No way could I carry her inside. Opening my coat, I held her next to my chest. Then I buttoned the coat around us both. "Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm."

Dempsey and I slept until the birds started to sing to the waking sun. The screen door swung open and Mama ran to me. "Jeanne, what are you doing out here?"

"Dempsey needed me," I said, and explained how I couldn’t get us both back in the house. Then Daddy carried us in, Dempsey still asleep inside my coat.

"Feels good helping someone you love, doesn’t it?"

Mama said.

The cold snap lasted a couple of days, and then Dempsey and I were back to our long walks. By summertime, we were chasing butterflies in the meadow with Jo.

My family had done all they could for me, and I couldn’t do any less for a little runt pig. We’d all done what had come naturally. And God had done the rest.

She lost her husband in the World Trade Center attack. She found reassurance in ways she never expected

By Kimberly Young Statkevicus
Norwalk, Connecticut

I don’t think I even opened my eyes when Derek kissed me good-bye that morning. You remember things like that afterward. Five months pregnant with our second child and worn out from running after 13-month-old Tyler, I grabbed every moment of sleep I could.

The alarm had gone off at 5:18 A.M. that Tuesday, September 11, as it did every weekday. Exactly enough time for Derek to dress, take our dog, Squirt, for her morning walk, then drive to the station to catch the 6:10 A.M. train to New York City. He worked for the investment and securities firm Keefe, Bruyette & Woods on the eighty-ninth floor of Tower Two of the World Trade Center.

Shortly before 9:00 A.M., Derek phoned. "Honey, turn on the TV!" he said. "A plane just hit Tower One. They think it’s just a Cessna, but we’re evacuating."

We hung up, and I clicked on the TV. I was watching when the big United Airlines jet plowed into Tower Two. I knew I would never again see my husband, never again feel his arms around me, even before the massive building came thundering down.

I knew, and yet a part of me refused to accept it. What about Tyler’s nightly ritual, Daddy putting him to bed? What about our unborn child, Lord? A second son. We’d already chosen his name: Chase. Derek had to be there when Chase was born!

Almost immediately people came by—neighbors, friends from Bible study, family. They brought food, played with Tyler, walked Squirt. Someone offered to pick up Derek’s car at the station, and I protested, "Then his car won’t be waiting when he gets off the train."

I filled out the missing persons description. What had Derek worn that morning? I didn’t know. The black shoes he wore with dark pants were still in our closet, so I wrote, "khaki trousers."

By the end of the week it was harder to keep denying the truth. I was asked to supply personal items from which DNA could be extracted and matched with the remains being recovered at Ground Zero. I put Derek’s toothbrush and razor in a plastic bag, then sealed it closed. There was a tangible finality to the act that I hadn’t felt before, not even in learning to accept the outpouring of support that continued nonstop—cards, flowers and gifts, donations toward the children’s education. Prayer. So much prayer.

Maybe that’s why I decided to hold a memorial service 10 days after the attack, though

I hadn’t quite given up the secret hope that Derek was alive. Our church was packed; some people I didn’t even recognize. Each person took the hand of the one next to him. "Our Father. . . . " We reached across the aisles, praying with one heart, one voice. The Body of Christ had been a phrase to me. Now it was what I was experiencing—others shouldering grief too heavy to bear alone.

Still I found myself thinking about Derek. About when we first met. My apartment had been decorated with sunflowers—curtains, vases, a quilt. He loved to tease me about those sunflowers! The way I teased him about our dog. I’d had to talk him into getting one. He finally decided a basset hound would be all right because it would just sit around. I’d been holding out for an active breed, a retriever, maybe. Of course, when Squirt came along, half basset, half yellow Lab, Derek fell in love with her. She was a real Daddy’s girl.

I wasn’t the only one who kept listening each evening for Derek’s key in the front-door lock. Precisely at 7:00 P.M., loyal Squirt would be at the window, her tail pumping. For our little dog there was no comprehending Derek’s absence. I knew, though, that I had to accept it.

Early in October I went to Ground Zero. I tried to envision the maze of downtown streets, the concourse, the soaring towers. In this wasteland of smoking rubble, how could I have imagined that my husband had survived?

I turned to the support groups for grieving families, met with other young mothers. One hundred five of us were expecting when we were widowed. Sharing fears, hopes, tears helped.

Our new baby was born on January 2, 2002, the day before what would have been our fourth wedding anniversary. I held little Derek Chase for the first time, overwhelmed with joy. And longing. My husband should have been there, holding our baby, holding me, in his arms. Never had I missed him more. Never had I felt more confused and alone.

My parents were at my house, watching Tyler. I called them with the news. They said a huge bouquet had just been delivered. Sunflowers! There was no card. I figured someone who knew me and Derek well had sent them for our wedding anniversary.

Every day my two boys reminded me that I must focus on the future. Yet how do you do that when your heart’s in the past? How do you leave behind how it was for the reality of how it is?

What made it especially hard for me was having no physical entity to say good-bye to. There had been no casket, no ritual of interment, no moment of leave-taking.

To confirm the DNA recovered from Derek’s toothbrush and razor, the New York City medical examiner’s office requested a sample from one of our children. I’d seen that mountain of debris. It seemed hopeless to search for any individual trace. Still, if there was a chance some fragment could be identified. . . .

I took Derek Chase to our pediatrician. He slept through the procedure of swabbing his mouth. To eliminate my DNA from the sample, the doctor swabbed mine as well.

At the end of May, a few days before what would have been Derek’s thirty-first birthday, I spent the evening with another September 11 widow, talking as usual about our husbands. Reliving those final moments . . . our last kiss, the gentle press of Derek’s lips on my drowsy cheek.

Driving home with the boys asleep in their car seats, I told myself again that it was time to stop looking backward. Time to get a headstone for Derek and start making plans for a future without . . . Why were two men standing on my doorstep at eight o’clock in the evening?

One of the men was a priest from my church, the other a police officer. Word had come from the medical examiner’s office in New York City. A three-inch fragment of bone had been identified as Derek’s.

Was this a message for me, I wondered, a confirmation that I needed to move forward? I thought back to another time I’d received something unexpected, the day I had so longed for my husband, when our little Derek Chase had been born. The day that surprise bouquet had arrived. Those sunflowers, they came when I was the only one who knew about the birth. Someone who knew Derek and me well—better than anyone—did send them, as much to commemorate the past as to celebrate the future.

The next morning, I phoned the florist to ask about that bouquet they’d delivered in January. Yes, they remembered the order well, an unusual one. A man had come into the shop to place it. He had not given his name.

Ah, but I knew his name! His name was love. The love that comes only from God, holding me, supporting me in so many ways after September. Letting me know that the deep connections formed with my husband live on, especially through our children. Assuring me that it was okay to let go and move on—he was with Derek in heaven, just as he has been with me here on earth, every step of my journey through the valley of grief toward the promise that lies beyond.


To learn how you can help Kim Statkevicus and other 9/11 widows honor their husbands’ memories by supporting recently widowed young women,
http://www.septembersmiles.com.

The above article originally appeared in the September 2003 issue of Guideposts. To subscribe to Guideposts

One day a blind man may grab you by the hand and say, "Don't you see?"....

....If you were to sell your character, would you get full retail or would it go for bargain basement price?



The following message was delivered by radio on Sept. 27th from Washington DC. Charlie Warren of WMAL radio had finally had enough. After hearing that the November Playboy magazine featured Susan Johnson, the flight attendant who attended Frank Gifford in a hotel room last spring, Warren said the following:

"That's enough. I'm tired of this. Marv is guilty. So that's enough. I'm tired of Marv. I'm tired of Frank. I'm tired of Tyson. I'm tired of the Kennedys. The royal family. FOX TV. NBC TV. And Stern. Howard, I don't care about how you do it. With whom. How many times. You're boring me.

FOX TV. Get some other jokes. Find some writers who know something other than the details of bodily functions...

...NBC, you're becoming the new FOX TV. My condolences. Your new show with Kirstie Alley is a notch below crass.

Hefner, Guccione, and Flynt. You guys have done your part for years. Thanks for making it seem right for weak men to demean weaker women.

Even Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire. I'm Sorry, Tom. I don't need to see you feigning pleasure, then lying back on the bed all sweaty. It's embarrassing.

Publishers, TV and movie producers, sportscasters, athletes, radio personalities, actors, politicians, you all need something to do - and so do we.

Love your wife or friend, not somebody else's. Throw a Frisbee with your kid. Play some touch football. Build a house. Run a mile. Take to the sea, the mountains, the sky. Shut off the TV and the Internet. Get off your rear and think about something and somebody else other than yourself."


Author Unknown

READ: 2 Corinthians 3:7-18

2 Corinthians 3:18 (NIV) "And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

Sometimes we throw a veil over God in our lives. We lift it only when we need Him, and throw the wet blanket over His consuming spiritual fire when we don’t need Him urgently. In one sense or another, He becomes our Spiritual Jack in the Box. We turn the handle only to have Him jump out and then turn around only to stuff Him back in the box until our next urgent moment or need. We do this because we do not want His glory reflected in our lives at inopportune times.

The apostle Paul urged the church at Philippi to "continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling" so that we "shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life" (Phil. 2:12, 15-16). He understood that as blood-bought believers in Christ, we can’t help but let our light shine for Jesus Christ. This is the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of a believer. That's why Paul also wrote, "And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Cor. 3:18). Though we may try to stop it at all costs, the Holy Spirit will continue to provide opportunities for us to shine like stars and serve Him on His terms and not on our God-in-the-box ways.

Whatever your circumstances are today, trust the Lord for the courage to light up the spiritual darkness around you.

Faith Lesson: Instead of putting God on your terms, allow His Spirit to move through you and impact those around you.

In Christ,
Darin Smith

*** WARNING TISSUES NEEDED ***




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 covering his ears. He tapped the steering wheel, doing his best to look bored, his eyes on the mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand.

Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into 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 without 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? 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.

*** Laugh and be Happy***



A principal of a small middle school had a problem with a few of the older girls starting to use lipstick. When applying it in the bathroom they would then press their lips to the mirror and leave lip prints. Before it got out of hand he thought of a way to stop it.

He gathered all the girls together that wore lipstick and told them he wanted to meet with them in the ladies room at 2pm. They gathered at 2pm and found the principal and the school custodian waiting for them.

The principal explained that it was becoming a problem for the custodian to clean the mirror every night. He said he felt the ladies did not fully understand just how much of a problem it was and he wanted them to witness just how hard it was to clean. The custodian then demonstrated. He took a long brush on a handle out of a box. He then dipped the brush in the nearest toilet, moved to the mirror and proceeded to remove the lipstick. That was the last day the girls pressed their lips on the mirror.

Author Unknown

Dear Daily Message Readers,

Matthew 5:14-16 (NIV) "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. 15Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Everyone wants to be remembered for something great that they did (i.e., sports figures, actors, etc.). Most people take an entire lifetime (or career if you are a sports star) trying their best to enter the hall of fame. However, the Bible is also full of examples of people who were willing to lay it all down for God, and let Him guide them.

I urge each and every one of you to look at your life. As we studied yesterday, where do you fit in with God? Are you a natural man (unsaved, doesn't know Jesus personally)? Are you a spiritual person (living example of God in a person's life)? Or are you a carnal Christian (saved by Christ, but doesn't live their faith)?

Don't wait until it is too late to help the cause of God. When you obey God's call, you are going to see Him work through your life like never before. Make every effort to be remembered as a person that would trust God, and is willing to listen to His call (Don't do it for nominal reasons or for the boasting of your name. This is for God's glory when you follow Him, not ours.). Matthew 4:19 "'Come, follow me,' Jesus said, 'and I will make you fishers of men.'"

In Christ,
Darin Smith

To subscribe to the Daily Message please send a blank email to
[email protected].

To unsubscribe send a blank email to
[email protected].

READ: Psalm 119:49-64

Psalm 119:60 (NKJV) "I made haste, and did not delay to keep Your commandments."

Though it is the beginning of another academic semester here at college, it is also the time when many students will decide whether or not they will give their schoolwork attention or if they will merely slide by with a passing grade. And the buzz word that describes this phenomenon is known as procrastination. In these times, we students usually try to laugh off our put-offs, whether it is a research paper, a reading assignment, asking someone for a date, cleaning up our room, or washing our clothes. Whatever the case, procrastination can seep deep within if we don't set out from the get-go with an attitude of completion and diligence.

It's a problem that not only hinders many students, but it can also slow down our spiritual growth. It even leads some to simply drop out of involvement with a church or a ministry altogether. So, to determine where you stand in doing the Lord's work, answer the following questions:

How much time and service do you give to a local church or local ministry? Do you just go and serve because it is a part of your routine, or do you seek the Lord as to what specifically He would have you do during that time?

Are there ways you could be helping out in your neighborhood? Your workplace? Your school?

When serving the Lord, be realistic and honest, but don't delay in your service. Not only do the rewards of doing what you know He wants you to do far outweigh any temporary fears or discomfort you may feel, but the joy that comes from obedience to God is a limited-time chance.

Faith Lesson: The true servant of Christ is willing to listen and obey even when they don't feel truly feel like it.

In Christ,
Darin Smith

READ: Romans 5

Romans 5:20 (NKJV) "Moreover the law entered that the offense might abound. But where sin abounded, grace abounded much more."

When Billy Graham was driving through a small southern USA town, he was stopped by a police officer and charged with speeding. Graham admitted his guilt, but was told by the officer that he would have to appear in court. The judge asked, "Guilty, or not guilty?â€

I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for everyone to hurry and stow their carry-ons and grab a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a long, uneventful flight home. With the huge capacity and slow moving people taking their time to stuff luggage far too big for the overhead and never paying much attention to holding up the growing line behind them, I simply shook my head knowing that this flight was not starting out very well.

I was anxious to get home to see my loved ones so I was focused on "my" issues and just felt like standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to get their act together. I knew I couldn't say a word so I just thumbed thru the "Sky Mall" magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting rough when you resort to the over priced, useless sky mall **** to break the monotony.

With everyone finally seated, we just sat there with the cabin door open and no one in any hurry to get us going although we were well past the scheduled take off time. No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told myself. Just then, the attendant came on the intercom to inform us all that we were being delayed. The entire plane let out a collective groan. She resumed speaking to say "We are holding the aircraft for some very special people who are on their way to the plane and the delay shouldn't be more than 5 minutes.

The word came after waiting six times as long as we were promised that "I" was finally going to be on my way home. Why the hoopla over "these" folks? I was expecting some celebrity or sport figure to be the reason for the hold up.........Just get their butts in a seat and lets hit the gas I thought.

The attendant came back on the speaker to announce in a loud and excited voice that we were being joined by several U. S. Marines returning home from Iraq!!! Just as they walked on board, the entire plane erupted into applause. The men were a bit taken by surprise by the 340 people cheering for them as they searched for their seats. They were having their hands shook and touched by almost everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as they passed down the aisle. One elderly woman kissed the hand of one of the Marines as he passed by her. The applause, whistles and cheering didn't stop for a long time.

When we were finally airborne, "I" was not the only civilian checking his conscience as to the delays in "me" getting home, finding my easy chair, a cold beverage and the remote in my hand. These men had done for all of us and I had been complaining silently about "me" and "my" issues. I took for granted the everyday freedoms I enjoy and the conveniences of the American way of life I took for granted others paid the price for my ability to moan and complain about a few minutes delay to "me" those Heroes going home to their loved ones.

I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order and minutes before we landed I suggested to the attendant that she announce over the speaker a request for everyone to remain in their seats until our hero's were allowed to gather their things and be first off the plane. The cheers and applause continued until the last Marine stepped off and we all rose to go about our too often taken for granted everyday freedoms......

I felt proud of them. I felt it an honor and a privilege to be among the first to welcome them home and say Thank You for a job well done.

I vowed that I will never forget that flight nor the lesson learned. I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those Veterans and active servicemen and women who may read this and a prayer for those who cannot because they are no longer with us.

GOD BLESS AMERICA…….WELCOME HOME AND THANKS FOR A JOB WELL DONE !!!!!


until they all come home

Author Unknown

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand:
TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him.

After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone:
TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE.

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"

The other friend replied "When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND AND TO CARVE YOUR BENEFITS IN STONE.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.

Do not value the things you have in your life. But value who you have in your life!

Author Unknown

*** WARNING POSSIBLE TISSUES NEEDED ***



About ten years ago, a young and very successful executive named Josh was traveling down a Chicago neighborhood street. He was going a bit too fast in his sleek, black, 12-cylinder Jaguar XKE, which was only two months old.

He watched for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no child darted out, but a brick sailed out and-WhUMP!- it smashed into the Jag's shiny black door!

SCREECH....!!!!! Brakes slammed! Gears ground into reverse, tires madly spun the Jaguar back to the spot from where the brick had been thrown.

Josh jumped out of the car, grabbed the kid and pushed him up against a parked car. He shouted at the kid, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing?"

Building up a head of steam, he went on, "That's my new Jaguar! That brick you threw is gonna cost you a lot of money. Why did you throw it?"

"Please, Mister, Please...I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do!" pleaded the youngster. "I threw the brick because no one else would stop!"

Tears were dripping down the boy's chin as he pointed around the parked car. "It's my brother, Mister," he said. He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up." Sobbing the boy asked the executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."

Moved beyond words, the young executive tried desperately to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. Straining, he lifted the young man back into his wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes and cuts, checked to see that everything was going to be OK. He then watched the younger brother push him down the sidewalk towards home.

It was a long walk back to his sleek, shiny, black, 12-cylinder Jaguar XKE - a long slow walk. Josh never did fix the side door of his Jaguar. He kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at him to get his attention. .
. .

Author Unknown

Note: Have you ever wondered why you go through so much? The answer is found in this story.




I'm a 'city girl' who recently moved to Wyoming. Down our road there are many pastures with grazing sheep. I noticed in early spring that the sheep had been sheared and were huddled in masses together in the early February snow and cold. They looked so pitiful standing close to each other next to the shelters, crying out loudly and standing with their backs to the wind! I asked my husband about why the sheep were sheared so early in the season when it's clear they are suffering. He explained, "In early days before fences, when this area was an open range, the sheep wandered far from feed and shelter. When they lambed it made it hard to keep track of them and keep them safe. So the sheep ranchers sheared the sheep early to help keep the ewes close and to better protect them when they lamb."


I thought that was a very smart way to keep sheep close in! The next day was more cold and wet and when I drove by the sheep I thought again about the shearing was actually helping them in the long run. I pulled over and looked at them. I thought about my own life, how I had felt 'sheared' with the losses I had experienced. I bowed my head and prayed, "Oh, God, is it that you want to keep me close just like these sheared sheep?' Since then, many other losses have come in my path. When I feel raw and sheared that picture of those sheep come to mind. I ask God to keep me mindful that the shearing is for the long term good and I during those times I've tried to stay as close as possible to the Shepard.

Let me take you back a couple years. Come with me as we relearn a lesson; one that has stuck with me, in my present memory, and inspires me yet. I don't remember exact conversation, but bear with me as I supply something that would sound normal.

We walk into Elida Road Hardware. An old-fashioned hardware store. No automatic door, not a computer in the building. Nothing unusual about the day, or the fact that we go to that store. It is one that I go to fairly often. As we enter the door, two sounds greet us. The sleigh bells of yesteryear, the ones that make that sweet, peaceful tinkle as we open the door. The other sound is the electronic beeper that alerts Andy of our presence.

"Good afternoon, Ryan," comes the cheerful acknowledgment. Andy Bianco is a very friendly sort of proprietor. He is of medium build and height, we'll say about 50, and the smile on his face welcomes us.

We walk across the old wood floor -- destitute of stain or varnish, and worn smooth -- with its squeaky spots, and uneven joints. Andy asks us what he can help us with. I tell him we are looking for a spring. He very patiently replies "I carry lots of springs, you're going to need to be more specific."

"Beats me what they're called; just a spring for an old-fashioned screen door."

"That's it. A screen door spring. Right down there." We turn to where he is pointing, and sure enough, there they are. Andy knows his store, and his products. That's why I come here instead of Meijer. The service can't be beat. The price, Yes. But service and satisfaction; No.

I pick up one and follow him to the counter. A keg of peanuts sits beside the counter, and beside it, another for the hulls. Let me know when Lowes does that. Covering the counter is a piece of Plexiglas, and under it, all manner of business cards.

"Hey got a card? Put one under here. Free advertising space."

"Thanks Andy, but I already have one. See, over here."

"Well, I'll be; you do."

He figures up the price, doing the math in his head. "$1.88, with Uncle Sam's share comes to $1.99"

"Put it on Pop's account."

He nods and smiles, remembering that this is the third item this week that received that verdict.

"Good ole' Pop's account." He chuckles. "I don't know what you boys would do without Pop's account!"

He hands me the ticket and as I sign it I ask rhetorically, "You really trust my signature?"

His reply startles, yet gladdens me. "When I can't trust Jerry Hoover's boys; I can't trust nobody!"

We leave, and the brain immediately starts to forget things, in order of importance. But what Andy Bianco said that day, rang in my ears. And it rings in my ears today. That's a tall order to live up to. It's a high standard of integrity. My father made a reputation for that name, and I get to enjoy the benefits thereof. But by the same token, I must maintain that reputation. And that's serious business.

A group of Geography students studied the Seven Wonders of the World. At the end of that section, the students were asked to list what they considered to be the Seven Wonders of the World. Though there was some disagreement, the following got the most votes:


1. Egypt's Great Pyramids
2. Taj Mahal
3. Grand Canyon
4. Panama Canal
5. Empire State Building
6. St. Peter's Basilica
7. China's Great Wall

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student, a quiet girl, hadn't turned in her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list.

The quiet girl replied, "Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many."

The teacher said, "Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help."

The girl hesitated, then read, "I think the Seven Wonders of the World are:

1. to touch
2. to taste
3. to see
4. to hear

She hesitated a little, and then...

5. to run
6. to laugh
7. and to love."

It is far too easy for us to look at the exploits of man and refer to them as "wonders" while we overlook all God has done, regarding them as merely "ordinary."

Author Unknown

Here is today's message:

Set your mind on things above, not on things on the Earth.
COLOSSIANS 3:2

Having many friends and being rich are great blessings, but popularity and success do not guarantee a happy life. To make this point, Solomon called attention to an elderly king who ignored the wishes of his subjects and was replaced. His young successor was popular at first, but he also fell into disfavor. Solomon concluded, "Surely this also is vanity and grasping for the wind."

Life at the top is fleeting. Presidents and prime ministers may have extremely high approval ratings for a while, but they don't last. About 20 years ago, I knew several top executives who were highly successful because of their winning personalities and outstanding abilities. Yet they lost their high-salaried positions because they could not keep up with the rapid changes their jobs demanded. Today, because of company mergers and corporate downsizing, many of their replacements have also lost their positions.

How we view popularity and success depends on what we value most. If we set our hearts on earthly things, we will eventually be disappointed. But if we set our hearts on the Lord, we will find that he is faithful to provide for our every need.

NOTE: We live in an unsure world. We may be up today and down tomorrow. We could be alive today and gone tomorrow. I know it may sound radical, but it is the truth. Therefore, we should not put our trust in things that change. We need to put our trust in God, who never changes. He has promised that he will provide for us whether the stock market goes up or down. He has told us to put our faith in Him, not in riches.

Are you trusting in God?

Author Unknown

Twins are suppose to be different, but Ron and Don were so much alike. Both were always involved in everything in school and both became successful in business. They were both blessed with miserable wives who raised the children Ron and Don never saw because they were too busy doing other things.

After all, Ron and Don had to support their families and they could not possibly turn down any of those speaking engagements they were offered. And they must go to those parties. There was no way either of them wanted to offend any of their clients.

Oh, Ron and Don would occasionally get to church and if something happened that prevented them from making it to their kids’ birthday parties, they would always make sure and stop by and get a nice gift to make everything right. The same was true for missed ball games and dance recitals. After all, they were both proud of their children.

Speaking of birthdays, Ron and Don recently celebrated their 37th birthday and took time to talk on the phone and wish each other a blessed event, for one of them always took a moment to call the other and wish him a happy birthday.

Recently, however, they agreed that it would be different when it came time to celebrate their 40th birthday. They would allow their wives to throw them a surprise birthday party which they would take the time to attend.

But tonight is different. Neither Ron or Don is running from here to there. They are together with family. Don sits quietly in a well upholstered chair with his head bowed while Ron lies in a casket not too far away. Don never expected this, and certainly did not expect it this soon.

As Don sits quietly with his head bowed and his hands folded together as if praying, he begins to think of all that he has missed in his 37 years and he vows that come tomorrow he will begin a life anew. But will he?

Six months from now will he still take time for God and family or will the memories of his brother have faded enough so that he can easily slip back into his busy lifestyle of before? Of course there is the possibility that Don could get back on track when he realizes that this year there is no one to call to wish happy birthday. ++++

How about you? Have you figured out what are the most important things in your life? And if you have, are they the same priorities God wants you to have?

Copyright 2001 Steve Demaree

To God Be The Glory!


=====
Steve Demaree
[email protected]

Just a week before Christmas, I had a visitor. This is how it happened. I had just finished the household chores for the night and was preparing to go to bed when I heard a noise in the front of the house. I opened the door of the front room, and to my surprise, Santa Claus himself stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. He placed his fingers over his mouth so I would not cry out.

"What are you doing..." I started to ask, but the words choked up in my throat as I saw he had tears in his eyes. His usual jolly manner was gone -- gone was the eager, boisterous soul we all know.

He then answered me with a simple statement of "teach the children." I was puzzled. What did he mean? He anticipated my question and with one quick movement brought forth a miniature toy bag from behind the tree. As I stood there bewildered, Santa said again, "Teach the children. Teach them the old meaning of Christmas -- the meanings that Christmas nowadays has forgotten."

I started to say, "How can I...." when Santa reached into the toy bag and pulled out a brilliant shiny star.

"Teach the children the star was the heavenly sign of promise long ages ago. God promised a savior for the world and the star was a sign of the fulfillment of that promise. The countless shining stars at night -- one for each man -- now show the burning hope of all mankind." Santa gently laid the star upon the fireplace mantle and drew forth from the bag a glittering red Christmas tree ornament.

"Teach the children red is the first color of Christmas. It was first used by the faithful people to remind them of the blood which was shed for all the people by the Savior. Christ gave His life and shed His blood that every man might have God's gift of Eternal Life. Red is deep, intense, vivid -- it is the greatest color of all. It is the symbol of the gift of God,"

"Teach the children," he said as he dislodged a small Christmas tree from the depths of the toy bag. He placed it before the mantle and gently hung the red ornament on it. The deep green of the fir tree was a perfect background for the ornament. Here was the second color of Christmas.

"The pure green color of the stately fir tree remains green all year round," he said. "This depicts the everlasting hope of mankind. Green is the youthful, hopeful, abundant color of nature. All the needles point heavenward -- symbols of Man's returning thoughts toward heaven. The great green tree has been man's best friend. It has sheltered him, warmed him, made beauty for him." Suddenly, I heard a soft tinkling sound.

"Teach the children that as the lost sheep are found by the sound of the bell, it should ring for man to return to the fold -- it means guidance and return. It further signifies that all are precious in the eyes of the Lord. As the soft sound of the bell faded into the night, Santa drew forth a candle. He placed it on the mantle and the soft glow from its tiny flame cast a glow about the darkened room. Odd shapes in shadows slowly danced and weaved upon the walls.

"Teach the children," whispered Santa, "That the candle shows man's thanks for the star of long ago. Its small light is the mirror of starlight. At first, candles were placed on the trees -- they were like many glowing stars shining against the dark green, The colored lights have now taken over in remembrance."

Santa turned the small Christmas tree lights on and picked up a gift from under the tree. He pointed to the large bow and said , "A bow is placed on a present to remind us of the spirit of the brotherhood of man. We should remember that the bow is tied as men should be tied, all of us together, with the bonds of good will toward each other. Good will forever is the message of the bow."

Santa slung his bag over his shoulder and began to reach for the candy cane placed high on the tree, He unfastened it and reached out toward me with it.

"Teach the children that the candy cane represents the shepherd's crook. The crook on the staff helps bring back the strayed sheep to the flock. The candy cane represents the helping hand we should show at Christmas time. The candy cane is the symbol that we are our brothers' keepers."

As Santa looked about the room, a feeling of satisfaction shone in his face. He read wonderment in my eyes, and I am sure he sensed admiration for this night.

He reached into his bag and brought forth a large holly wreath. He placed it on the door and said, "Please teach the children the wreath symbolizes the eternal nature of love; it never ceases, stops or ends. It is one continuous round of affection. The wreath does double duty. It is made of many things and in many colors. It should remind us of all the things of Christmas. Please teach the children."

We took a cruise on the Caribbean back in June.

Beautiful place that Caribbean with its sparkling blue water.

Sailing out there with nothing else in sight for as far as the eye could see . . .

It was so peaceful, so serene, and so relaxing.

Yes, there we were, without a care in the world . . .

And the food, my goodness there was more food than you could imagine . . .

You could pretty much eat anytime day or night, which was great having the kids along with us, because any time they were hungry they could go get something to eat.

As for me, it meant fresh coffee whenever I wanted it.

There was one particular night that comes to mind on that cruise.

It was late, sometime after midnight, I got a cup of coffee and sat out on the deck.

Peering out into the darkness, absolute darkness . . .

Looking out toward the horizon you couldn’t really tell where the sky ended and where the ocean began . . .

It was pitch black, but then I noticed an electrical storm way out at sea . . .

The lightning danced across the sky, illuminating everything.

I have always been fascinated by lightning storms because of what we read in Matthew 24:20,

“For as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west; so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.

And this particular lightning storm was the most spectacular one I have ever seen.

As I sat there sipping my coffee, in awe of the display the Lord had set before me . .

I thought about how incredible this storm off in the distance was . . .

How the sky would illuminate and then in a split second turn back to pitch black . . .

And I thought about how it was the deep darkness that made the light show so spectacular.

It takes a deep darkness, such as I witnessed that night, to truly appreciate the light.

A deep darkness like that which we lived in before we came to see the Light . . .

Before we came to see the one True Light.

Jesus came into this world and said in John 9:5 :

“As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.â€