Why God gave us friends

Why GOD Gave Us Friends

GOD knew that everyone needs
Companionship and cheer,
He knew that people need someone
Whose thoughts are always near.

He knew they need someone kind
To lend a helping hand.
Someone to gladly take the time
To care and understand.

GOD knew that we all need someone
To share each happy day,
To be a source of courage
When troubles come our way.

Someone to be true to us,
Whether near or far apart.
Someone whose love we'll always
Hold and treasure in our hearts.

That's Why GOD Gave Us Friends!

God's Phone Number

Hello God, I called tonight
To talk a little while
I need a friend who'll listen
To my anxiety and trial.


You see, I can't quite make it
Through a day just on my own...
I need your love to guide me,
So I'll never feel alone.


I want to ask you please to keep,
My family safe and sound.
Come and fill their lives with confidence
For whatever fate they're bound.


Give me faith, dear God, to face
Each hour throughout the day,
And not to worry over things
I can't change in any way.


I thank you God, for being home
And listening to my call,
For giving me such good advice
When I stumble and fall.. !!!!!!!


Your number, God, is the only one
That answers every time.
I never get a busy signal,
Never had to pay a dime.

So thank you, God, for listening
To my troubles and my sorrow.
Good night, God, I love You, too,
And I'll call again tomorrow!

P.S. Please bless all my friends and family too

The Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

Life's measure

To all my family & friends I want to

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME. ONCE YOU READ THIS YOU WILL UNDERSTAND!

A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door.

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams.

There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.  As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.  The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.  Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment.  It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.  The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked...

"The box is gone," he said

"What box?" Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box.. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope.  Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover.

Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most was...my time"

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.   "I need some time to spend with my son," he said.

"Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take,

 but by the moments that take our breath away."

God's Grace

There once was a man named George Thomas , pastor in a small New England town. One Easter Sunday morning he came to the Church carrying a rusty, bent, old bird cage, and set it by the pulpit. Eyebrows were raised and, as if in response, Pastor Thomas began to speak.....

I was walking through town yesterday when I saw a young boy coming toward me swinging this bird cage. On the bottom of the cage were three little wild birds, shivering with cold and fright. I stopped the lad and asked, "What do you have there, son?"

"Just some old birds," came the reply.

"What are you going to do with them?" I asked.

"Take 'em home and have fun with 'em," he answered. "I'm gonna tease'em and pull out their feathers to make 'em fight. I'm gonna have a real good time."

"But you'll get tired of those birds sooner or later. What will you do then?"

"Oh, I got some cats," said the little boy. "They like birds. I'll take'em to them."

The pastor was silent for a moment. "How much do you want for those birds, son?"

"Huh?? !!! Why, you don't want them birds, mister."

"They're just plain old field birds. They don't sing. They ain't even pretty!"

"How much?" the pastor asked again.

The boy sized up the pastor as if he were crazy and said, "$10?"

The pastor reached in his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill.  He placed it in the boy's hand. In a flash, the boy was gone. The pastor picked up the cage and gently carried it to the end of the alley where there was a tree and a grassy spot. Setting the cage down, he opened the door, and by softly tapping the bars persuaded the birds out, setting them free. Well, that explained the empty bird cage on the pulpit, and then the pastor began to tell this story:

One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden , and he was gloating and boasting. "Yes, sir, I just caught a world full of people down there. Set me a trap, used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"

"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.

Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and smoke and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"

"And what will you do when you are done with them?"

Jesus asked. "Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.

"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.

"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you. You don't want those people!"

"How much?" He asked again.

Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your blood, tears and your life."

Jesus said, "DONE!" Then He paid the price.

The pastor picked up the cage and walked from the pulpit.

I thank God everyday for my blessed life. I'm not rich, don't live in a mansion and don't have the nicest of material things, but, I'm healthy, have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food on my table, a
family that loves me, and blessed with many friends.  That's how God has blessed my life.

Jesus Died for Us

THE (SCIENTIFIC) DEATH OF JESUS

At the age of 33, Jesus was condemned to the death. 

At the time crucifixion was the "worst" death. Only the worst criminals were condemned to be crucified. Yet it was even more dreadful for Jesus, unlike other criminals condemned to death by crucifixion Jesus was to be nailed to the cross by His hands and feet. 

Each nail was 6 to 8 inches long. The nails were driven into His wrist.  Not into His palms as is commonly portrayed. There's a tendon in the wrist that extends to the shoulder. The Roman guards knew that when the nails were being hammered into the wrist that tendon would tear and break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support himself so that He could breathe.

Both of His feet were nailed together. Thus He was forced to support Himself on the single nail that impaled His feet to the cross. Jesus could not support himself with His legs because of the pain so He was forced to alternate between arching His back then using his legs just to continue to breath. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the suffering, the courage.

Jesus endured this reality for over 3 hours.  Yes, over 3 hours! Can you imagine this kind of suffering? A few minutes before He died, Jesus stopped bleeding. He was simply pouring water from his wounds. He had no more blood to bleed out, only water poured from His wounds. The human adult body contains about 3.5 liters (just less than a gallon) of blood. Jesus poured all 3.5 liters of his blood; He had three nails hammered into His members; a crown of thorns on His head and, beyond that, a Roman soldier who stabbed a spear into His chest..

From common images we see wounds to His hands and feet and even the spear wound to His side... But do we realize His wounds were actually made in his body. A hammer driving large nails through the wrist, the feet overlapped and an even large nail hammered through the arches, then a Roman guard piercing His side with a spear. But before the nails and the spear Jesus was whipped and beaten. The whipping was so severe that it tore the flesh from His body.  The beating so horrific that His face was torn and his beard ripped from His face. The crown of thorns cut deeply into His scalp. Most men would not have survived this torture. 

All these without mentioning the humiliation He suffered after carrying His own cross for almost 2 kilometers, while the crowd spat in his face and threw stones (the cross was almost 30 kg of weight, only for its higher part, where His hands were nailed).

Jesus had to endure this experience, to open the Gates of Heaven, so that you can have free access to God. So that your sins could be "washed" away. All of them, with no exception! Don't ignore this situation.

JESUS CHRIST DIED FOR YOU! He died for you!

God has plans for you, show all your friends what He experienced to save you. Now think about this! May God bless your life!

For the next 60 seconds, set aside what you're doing and take this opportunity!  All you have to do is:  Take a moment to appreciate the power of God in your life, for doing what pleases Him. 

(Matthew 10:32 & 33): "Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before My Father in heaven; but whosoever denies Me before others, I also will deny before My Father in heaven".

Yes, I love God. He is my source of life and my Savior.  He keeps me alive day and night.  Without Him, I am nothing, but with Him "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me". Philippians 4:13.

God brings people into your life

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person…

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.

They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.

They may seem like a God send and they are.

They are there for the reason you need them to be…

Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.

Sometimes they die.  Sometimes they walk away.

Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.

What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done.

The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on…

Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.

They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.

They may teach you something you have never done.

They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.

Believe it, it is real…but only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.

Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.

It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

Thank you for being a part of my life, whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime.

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Christmas at the Gas Station

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.  "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.   "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.


"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."


George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.


George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to
himself.. So he put a new one on.


"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.


As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."


George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.


"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."


The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.


He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."


George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."


George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.   "None for me," said the officer.   "Oh, yer gonna drink this.  Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.


The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.


"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.


"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."


The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"


The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."


He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."


George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."


George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."


He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."


The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you.. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."   "Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said.   George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.


"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"


"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.


Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."


George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.


"That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued.   "Yep,"  George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."


The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"


Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."


"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."


George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."


The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."


"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."


George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."


The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.


"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."


The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."


"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."


George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"


"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"


"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."


The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.


The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."


George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.


"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."


The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."


George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.


"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."


George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus"


Merry Christmas!!

Marriage

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.

Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.

The Rose

The person who did this was Jack Benny....


Each year he sent her roses,
And the note would always say,
I love you even more this year,
Than last year on this day.
My love for you will always grow,
With every passing year.'

Paid In Full

After living what I felt was a 'decent' life, my time on earth came to the end.

The first thing I remember is sitting on a bench in the waiting room of what I
thought to be a court house..
The doors opened, and I was instructed to come in and have a seat by the defense
table.
As I looked around, I saw the 'prosecutor.'
He was a villainous looking gent who snarled as he stared at me. He definitely

I love you

One day a woman's husband died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't "anymore."

No more hugs, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat, no more "just one minute."

Sometimes, what we care about the most gets all used up and goes away, never to return before we can say good-bye, say "I love you."

So while we have it, it's best we love it, care for it, fix it when it's broken and heal it when it's sick.

This is true for marriage ...and old cars, and children with bad report cards, and dogs with bad hips, family and aging parents and grandparents.

We keep them because they are worth it ..... because we are worth it.  Some things we keep -- like a best friend who moved away or a sister-in-law after divorce.

There are just some things that make us happy, no matter what.  Life is important. We only have one.

We only have one mom, one dad, one unique brother or sister or friend.

Suppose one morning you never wake up. Do all your friends know you love them?

I was thinking....I could die today, tomorrow or next week, and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that needed rekindling or three words needing to be said.

Let every one of your friends and family know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back, you would be amazed at what those three little words and a smile can do.   And just in case GOD calls me home . .

I LOVE YA !

Live today to the fullest because tomorrow is not promised.

Santa Clause - The Real Story

I remember my first Christmas party with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb:
"There is no Santa Claus," she jeered.

"Even dummies know that!"

My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites I told her everything. She was ready for me.

"No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

'Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobbie Decker.

He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobbie Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, "I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobbie." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons, and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobbie Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus", she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobbie.

Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

Anonymous

My Special Treasure

God gave a special treasure, to cherish in our hearts.
Not made of gold or silver, yet it lights up every part.
More precious than a diamond, its beauty can't compare.
To the joy of friendship, and the special times we share.
Each and every friendship is so priceless and unique.
It is comfort when we're lonely, and strength when we are weak.
It lends a loving shoulder, to lean our heads upon.
Through every joy and trial, it grows a stronger bond.
A gift of grace, bestowed upon us, by our loving God above.
To help us walk in unity, and be vessels of His Love.
Friendship is a blessing to join our hearts as One.
Helping out each other, to the glory of His Son.
So I take this special day to reflect upon the past.
My heart is filled with gratitude for friendships that will last.
To each and every one of you...
I wish that you could know,
What words upon this paper can never truly show...
A heart that is so special, its warmth can flood a room,
To take away another's pain, and end a day of gloom.
Arms that wrap around us, in a hug that says I care.
Smiles that brighten up our days, because we choose to share.
My friend, you are a priceless gem, a special gift to me.
Your prayers, your love, your kindness,in my heart will always be.
So on this special day, in celebration of true love.
I want to thank you for your friendship,
you are my treasure from Above!
A friend loveth at all times...Proverbs 17:17

Take my Hand

Take my hand my friend, I wish to help you along.
Just knowing there are two of us can help to make you strong.
I know life seems unfair and sometimes gets you down,
But know that I am here for you I'll always be around.
So set a day aside and together we will walk
Down all your troubled pathways, for it helps sometimes to talk.
If you should need some time to do this on your own,
Then I will be here waiting since you wish to be alone.
I guess I want to say that I hold your friendship dear.
And if you ever need me just reach out, cause I am here.

Author Unknown

Always there...

We can't foresee the turning of the tide when problems be set us and tears are cried.
Sometimes life deals from the bottom of the deck filling us with worry and leaving us a wreck.
The enemy seeks to devour and destroy, using deceptions to eliminate our joy.
While walking through the valley, our heads hung low,
The mountain top seems so high, our footsteps slow.
How many times have we traveled this road?
To battle the frustrations of troubles bestowed?
Yet when we come to our darkest hour,
God demonstrates His infinite power.
It doesn't matter how bad things might seem,
He always comes through, our faith to redeem.

God will not fail us in our times of pain.
He'll never forsake us, by our side He'll remain.
So when we find ourselves at a total loss,
Or when the valley seems too wide to cross,
Just remember you're in His love and care,
Look over your shoulder, He's always there!

Author Unknown

From Mommy to mom to Mother

From Mommy To Mom To Mother


Real Mothers don't eat quiche; they don't have time to make it..
Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils are probably in the sandbox.
Real Mothers often have sticky floors, filthy ovens and happy kids.
Real Mothers know that dried play dough doesn't come out of carpets...
Real Mothers don't want to know what the vacuum just sucked up.
Real Mothers sometimes ask 'Why me?' and get their answer when a little voice says, 'Because I love you best.'
Real Mothers know that a child's growth is not measured by height or years or grade...


It is marked by the progression of Mommy to Mom to Mother.....


4 YEARS OF AGE - My Mommy can do anything!
8 YEARS OF AGE - My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot!
12 YEARS OF AGE - My Mother doesn't really know quite everything.
14 YEARS OF AGE - Naturally, Mother doesn't know that, either.
16 YEARS OF AGE - Mother? She's hopelessly old fashioned.
18 YEARS OF AGE - That old woman? She's way out of date!
25 YEARS OF AGE - Well, she might know a little bit about it.
35 YEARS OF AGE - Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion.
45 YEARS OF AGE - Wonder what Mom would have thought about it?
65 YEARS OF AGE - Wish I could talk it over with Mom

Affirmation of Mothers

I believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God,
Who was born of the promise to a virgin named Mary.


I believe in the love Mary gave her Son,
that caused her to follow him in his ministry
and stand by his cross as he died.


I believe in the love of all mothers,
and it's importance in the lives of the children they bear.


It is stronger than steel, softer than down,
and more resilient than a green sapling on the hillside.


It closes wounds, melts disappointments,
and enables the weakest child to stand tall
and straight in the fields of adversity.


I believe that this love, even at it's best,
is only a shadow of the love of God,
a dark reflection of all that we can expect of him.
both in this life and the next.


And I believe that one of the most beautiful sights
in the world is a mother who lets this greater love flow
through her to her child, blessing the world with the
tenderness of her touch and the tears of her joy.

A Mother's Prayer

Make me a wise mother, O Lord.


Keep me calm and give me patience to bear the small, irritating things in the daily routine of life.


Give me tolerance and understanding to bridge the gulf between my generation and that of my children.


Let me not be too ready to guide my children's stumbling feet, but allow me to be ever near to bind their bruises.


Give me a sense of humor that I may laugh with them never at them. Let me refrain from preaching with words.


Keep me from forcing their confidences, but give me a sympathetic ear when my children come to me.


Help me to teach them that life must not be filled with compromises, but must be replete with victories.


Make me humble. Keep my children close to me, Oh Lord, though miles may separate us.


Let Thy light so shine on me that they, too, will perceive thy glory.


Amen.

Mother's Day

JUST A MOM?


A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office, was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.


'What I mean is, ' explained the recorder, 'do you have a job or are you just a ..?'


'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman. 'I'm a Mom.'


'We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, housewife' covers it,' said the recorder emphatically. I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself
in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.


The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, 'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.' 'What is your occupation?' she probed.


What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. 'I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.'


The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.


'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest,'just what you do in your field?' Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, 'I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family) and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'


There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.


As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more
distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.'


Motherhood!


What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. Does this make grandmothers 'Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations' And great grandmothers 'Executive Senior Research Associates?' I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts '
Associate Research Assistants.'


May your troubles be less, your blessing be more, and nothing but happiness come through your door!