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GOD BLESS AMERICA
by Ron Gold
She was "The Songbird of the South" -- the on-air host of three
popular programs in Radio''s Golden Age and one of the nation''s three most
admired women. She would eventually sell more than $7 million in Defense
and War Bonds and be honored by every American President from Franklin D.
Roosevelt to Ronald Reagan.
He was America''s favorite composer -- a Russian immigrant destined to
create a personal empire by writing both the words and music for some of
America''s best-loved musical stage plays and movies.
Their historic collaboration turned a rejected song from a World War I
soldier show into a continuing charity fund-raiser, a professional hockey
team''s good luck charm, major league baseball''s "stretch music", a new
president''s emotional sign-off statement and... America''s second national
anthem.
In November of 1938, Kate Smith, America''s favorite radio personality,
wanted to sing a special song to recognize the twentieth anniversary of the
armistice that ended World War I.
Her manager, Ted Collins, asked America''s favorite composer, Irving
Berlin, to create a new song to honor the occasion. Berlin agreed and
began writing, but nothing satisfied him. He then remembered a song he
wrote when he was in the Army -- a tune the show''s producers rejected for
being "too much of a flag-waver". The song was "God Bless America".
Berlin reviewed the song and made two changes in the lyrics. He
rewrote "Stand beside her and guide her to the right with a light from
above", changing the political words "to the right" to the non-political
"thru the night". He also changed "From the green fields of Virginia to
the gold fields in Nome" to "From the mountains to the prairies to the
oceans white with foam".
Miss Smith loved the song and sang it as her closing number on her
November 10, 1938''s "Kate Smith Hour".
The new anthem was an immediate hit and the singer sang it on almost
every broadcast through December 1940, when public performances of ASCAP
songs were banned from the airwaves.
The lyrics of "God Bless America" were inserted into the Congressional
Record in a failed attempt to make the song our nation''s new national
anthem.
The song was sung at both the Democratic and Republican conventions of
1940 and again, via a Kate Smith videotape, at the Republican Convention
(which nominated George W. Bush) in 2000. President Bush ends most of his
speeches saying the words: "God Bless America".
In 1940, Irving Berlin established The God Bless America Foundation
which assigned all royalties from his and Miss Smith''s performances of the
song to the Boy and Girl Scouts of America.
In 1943, when Irving Berlin produced his WWII soldier show, "This Is
The Army" at Warner Brothers Pictures, he included a scene featuring Kate
Smith recreating her 1938 radio broadcast.
Two decades later, National Hockey League officials noted that, while
Philadelphia Flyers'' fans were not duly respectful when "The Star Spangled
Banner" was played, they were more attentive when the public address system
played Kate Smith''s recording of "God Bless America".
Flyers'' fans also noted that their team won most games when Kate
Smith''s record was played.
On the opening day of the 1973 season, Kate Smith strode across a red
carpet in Philadelphia and sang the song in person. The Flyers beat the
Toronto Maple Leafs 2-0. At critical games throughout the season, Kate
Smith was driven down from New York to perform "God Bless America". She
performed the song the night the Flyers beat the Boston Bruins to win the
Stanley Cup. Following the championship game, both teams lined up to shake
her hand.
The next season she sang it again when the Flyers retained the Stanley
Cup, beating the New York Islanders.
In 1987, the year after her death, Kate Smith was honored with a
bronze statue, recognizing her as the Flyers'' "good luck charm".
Irving Berlin''s "most important composition" has been constantly
performed since the Twin Towers disaster on September 11, 2001. On our
nation''s "Second Day of Infamy", U.S. Senators sang "God Bless America" on
the steps of the U.S. Capitol. Canadian singer Celine Dion performed
America''s "Second National Anthem" on a nationwide telethon: "America: A
Tribute To Heroes" on September 21, 2001. And major league baseball
officials ordered the song to be played during the seventh inning stretches
of all their baseball games.
Not a shabby resume for a song originally rejected as "too much of a
flag-waver".
-- Ron Gold <outthinkresumes @ aol.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
MJ, 3, spends a lot of time at his Aunt "Sisa''s" (Lisa). The other
day they were playing ball and Lisa told him he was getting good. "I''ve
been pwacticing," MJ said. A little later they were swinging on the
swingset and Lisa said, "I wish I had a little boy like you." MJ looked up
at Lisa and said, "Well, Aunt Sisa, you have to pwactice!" Lisa about fell
off the swing! -- Lisa Stormer of Blairsville, Pennsylvania
Jim, a Marine, learned that he and his wife were going to have another
baby. Jim''s family was living at Camp Pendleton in California when they
called their family and friends to share the good news. When they called
Earla, she had already heard from another relative. Jim''s little boy
Matthew got on the phone and said, "Grandma, guess what?" Earla said, "I
bet I know... your Mama is going to have a baby." Matthew was suprised and
asked, "How did you know?" Earla replied, "A little bird told me."
Matthew said with a puzzled tone, "Grandma, he flew all the way to Texas?"
-- Earla Hollon of Pasadena, Texas
Brady, 3, came to spend the week with his grandparents. Grandma and
Grandpa have a dog, a Pomeranian and his tail curls over his back. One day
Grandma observed Brady spending a long time just flipping the tail back and
then watching it curl again. Finally, he looked up and said, "I''ve looked
and looked but I can''t find the spring that makes this tail work!" --
Brady''s Aunt Joyce of Carmel, Indiana
E***h''s nephew Jordy loved corn on the cob so much that after
finishing an ear he asked for "some more beans on my stick." -- E***h
Patterson of McComb, Mississippi
Christina, 4, was asked her name. She replied, "Christina." When
asked her middle name she replied, "Gail." When asked her last name she
said, "Christina Gail Get Over Here!" -- Christi Lovvo (aunto to Christina
Gail) of Paducah, Kentucky
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE FLAGS OF HAYDEN STREET
by Stephen T. Banko
The 4th of July is upon us and the flags are flying in force this year.
There is a street in St. Teresa''s parish in South Buffalo, New York,
that takes display of the flag very seriously. The flags will fly as an
individual act of respect on the porches of nearly every home on the
street. They fly as a collective celebration from the street poles along
its edges.
I like driving on Hayden Street. The respect for the flag makes me
feel good.
Long ago and far away, I learned a tough lesson about how much flags
can mean.
My squad was the point element on a hill assault somewhere in a place
called War Zone C. As I was about to start up the hill, my commander
approached me with some trite words of encouragement. He must have known
that survival was all the motivation I needed. He patted me on the back,
stuck something in my rucksack and mumbled something like, "Fly it proudly
when you reach the top." While he pontificated about pride, I prayed.
The hill was only four hundred meters high, but the battle made it
seem like Everest. About an hour into the fight and half way to the
summit, one of my guys took a grenade fragment in the jaw. He was a
scared, young, black kid from Philadelphia. I cleaned the bone and blood
and broken teeth from his mouth while the medic struggled to keep him from
going into shock.
Not long after that, a bullet struck the fallen tree I was using for
cover and some bark, or a bullet fragment, or both, struck me below the
eye, causing it to swell shut. Such an injury stops a boxing match but not
a battle. So the kid with the broken jaw and I helped each other press on
to the summit. We helped each other because we both needed help. The
issue of skin color wasn''t an issue in that rarefied air of
interdependence.
When I was sitting, in near total exhaustion, on the battered burning
hilltop, the issue of color started to matter again.
The battalion commander, from a helicopter a thousand feet above the
hill, asked my radioman what happened to the flag he''d given me. I had
forgotten I had it. I asked one of the guys to pull it out of my pack and
stick it on a tree trunk.
The soldier who did so was black and he got my attention with a soft,
"I''ll be damned."
The flag I had carried to the summit was not the flag of our nation.
It was a state flag -- from my commander''s state -- filled by the stars and
bars of the Confederate battle flag. Looking at my squad through the
filter of that flag, I became acutely aware that almost half the bloodied,
tired soldiers who had fought their way up that hill were black.
It just didn''t seem like the thing to do at the moment, commander or
no commander. I tossed the flag into one of the small fires burning
near-by and told the radio operator to tell the commander I''d lost it
during the fight.
This year, our flag means something again. It means that we are one
people, one nation. That meaning is the essence of the day we celebrate
and the ideal so many have sacrificed for.
Just like those flags I see on Hayden Street, the flag on that blasted
hill in that God-forsaken place said something important about those who
thought it wise to fly it. I like the message on Hayden Street a lot
better.
-- Stephen T. Banko <Duffysboss @ aol.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

WITHOUT EVER KNOWING
by Betty King
Divorce is hard on everyone.
Sometimes we forget how hard it is on animals.
Our son and his wife divorced a few years back. There were many of us
in the family who were devastated, including Missy and Dena.
Missy is our Dandi Dinmont Terrier. Dena, a Rat Terrier, belonged to
our son''s family. Though the dogs are both terriers they looked and acted
nothing alike. The only similarity was they both came from homes, where
they were loved -- like just another member of the family.
Dena had been my son''s dog, but when the divorce became final, he
decided Dena should stay with his wife and their little girl. They would
be remaining in the family home and Dena, after all, had grown fond of my
granddaughter.
In the past, when my son and his family took trips or would be gone
for the day, Dena came to stay with us. Though of different breeds and
personalities, she and our Missy learned to enjoy the overnight slumber
parties and became fast friends.
Chasing each other around the family room couch became a routine game,
and we enjoyed Dena''s stay-overs. They nearly wore a path as they chased
each other -- first one way and then the other, barking and then veering
out, making the chase to include the whole house.
Everyone stayed out of their way, until they found a spot to recover
from exhaustion -- their tongues hanging out. They made us adults chuckle
and my granddaughter giggle.
Dena often came over when the family just dropped by for a visit. She
was, after all, a member of the family and Missy looked forward to her
coming.
Then the day came when the family became divided and her visits became
less frequent. Eventually, they ceased completely. Missy knew something
was missing. She knew things had changed. She didn''t have anyone to chase
and she often lay looking forlorn.
Life moved on though, and eventually both my ex-daughter-in-law and my
son married new partners. They remained friends, making my granddaughter''s
life less complicated. It also made life for us adults less stressful as
we adjusted to the changes in the family. There was communication between
we adults and we became accustomed to new people and the absence of others.
One day, after our granddaughter''s visit, we took her back to her
mother''s. We had not yet been to the home of my ex-daughter-in-law and her
new husband. We decided to take Missy along for a ride and perhaps she
would enjoy seeing her old friend Dena.
When we pulled the car into the driveway and my husband took our
granddaughter to the door, Dena flew out! Missy was beside herself with
excitement!
There was a reunion in the driveway that day that was the equivalent
of any tear-jerker reunion you ever saw. Two friends who had been torn
apart for no reason of their own, had been left wondering what had happened
to the other. They had been given no explanation to satisfy their
understanding.
The humans in their lives had mourned losses and moved on with a new
understanding of change. However, animals mourn losses too and most of the
time are left to grieve without ever knowing.
-- Betty King <baking2 @ charter.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

PLACE OF WONDER
by Kathy Anne Harris
After pulling the truck and tent-trailer into a double-wide spot in
the small parking lot, we stepped out and walked to the edge of the
escarpment.
There before us, in a breath stopping glance, lay the grand vista of
the Valley. Crisp, cool air swirled around us and the other people
crowding the outlook. Outstretched arms pointed from a great waterfall in
the distance to the half-domed rock, capped in clouds, and illumined in a
column of sun from the south -- from the massive protruding wall of granite
to the left, to the arches that had been created in the walls of the
valley, ages ago.
Below, the valley floor was thick with color, verdant meadows and a
carpet of trees.
We drove on until we reached the Lower Pines Campground. After
setting up camp, we had a bite of lunch and relaxed.
Off to the west, in a meadow of dried yellow grasses with small, reedy
pockets of swampy earth was a herd of mule deer, nearly obscured but for
their long ears, delicately shaped heads and slender necks.
I walked closer, to get a better look. Their heads followed my course
from the camp to the meadow. We studied each other, the deer, and me. And
none of us moved. Cars sped by on the road past the meadow. Campers
arrived, shuffling about in their designated camps. Hikers and bicyclists
scurried back and forth on the paths around us. But the deer, and I,
remained quiet, unmoving.
I glanced up at Half Dome, and I could spot dots of color and movement
on its crest -- hikers. I swiveled my gaze to the opposite side of the
valley. I followed the upper ridge, and stopped. There, rushing down the
slope of granite, Yosemite Falls pulsed torrents of snow-melted water over
rocky ledges, down the cliff wall, and down further still -- crashing at
the bottom in a spray of mist. Rainbow patterns winked in and out of the
dewy spray.
When I got back to camp, several people were whispering to each other,
and pointing to something moving through the nearby trees. It seemed
everyone was looking at the same thing. I looked, too.
Between shafts of sunlight, columns of shadow, and the trees, a large
coyote strolled past us and on to the river on the other side of the camp.
It was delightful!
Later that night, during supper, a park ranger came to visit each
group of campers. She advised us that there was a large, indigenous bear
populace in the park. She instructed us to store all foods in the iron,
bear-proof, storage boxes. And not just food. Anything with an attractive
scent was to go in these boxes -- not in your vehicle, not in your tent or
camper or RV -- but in the iron storage box.
We did as she had instructed. Others did not.
That night, while the humans slept in their sleeping bags, beds, or
cots, bears came visiting -- a mama bear, and her two cubs.
However, we didn''t discover this until the next morning. My brother
remarked how he had heard a soft, shuffling sound outside his tent that
night. He had peeked through the window of the tent and watched as the
mother bear and her cubs ambled past his tent, on to the campground across
the road. The bears had totaled the campers'' van.
We discovered that she had also paid us a call. She had left paw
prints on our truck, and one on the outside wall of the tent-trailer, just
above the place where my head had laid that night, in sleep.
Yosemite is a place of wonder. Yet, when I think of the magnificent
creatures who dwell there, and then of the hordes of humans who visit the
valley, I must ask myself: Who is the beast?
-- Kathy Anne Harris <bluebelliedlizard @ earthlink.net>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Marisa, 5, saw a woman at her school watering the grounds. The woman
had a long hose in her hand and as she was trying to turn off the water,
water was still streaming out of the hose alongside the school building.
When Marisa saw the water shooting against the building her mother heard
her announce, to no one in particular, "Oh, look, she is watering the
building. Isn''t that great?" -- DeAngela (mother of Marisa) of Denver,
Colorado
Mackenzie, 3, was getting potty training down. Many early mornings
she would climb into bed with her parents. One Saturday her mother rolled
over in bed and felt a wet spot. When she asked, "Mackenzie, did you pee
pee in Mom and Dad''s bed?" Mackenzie replied, "Noooooooo Mommy! I peed in
my PANTIES!" -- Julie (mother of Mackenzie) of Utah
At dinner one evening, Christopher, 11, came out and told his parents
that he thought he had morning sickness. After getting over choking on her
food, his mother asked him why he thought he had morning sickness. He
replied that his throat was sore in the mornings. -- Maggi Jones (mother
of Christopher) of Texas
Aileen''s 7-year-old grandson lives with her. They have always taught
him good manners and picking up after himself. One day his toys were
everywhere and his pajamas were left where he took them off. Aileen had
had enough. "Who is going to pick up after you when you grow up and leave
the house?" Aileen asked. He replied, "My wife." Aileen wrote, "Boy, we
still have a LOT of teaching to do!" -- Aileen Bly of East Berlin,
Pennsylvania
Casey, 3, got her ears pierced at the mall. Her mother told her it
would feel just like a shot. Casey was very brave and did not cry at all.
Everyone standing around her was very PROUD. On the way home her mother
told her that next week she was going to have to get shots for school. To
which Casey replied, "That''s O.K., Mommy. I don''t want any more earrings!"
-- Casey''s "Aunt Tammie" of Brunswick, Georgia
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

ZUCCHINI SUMMER
by Diane Dean White
That summer was warm and wonderful.
The kids were young and we had just moved into our first house. It
was in the city, with a fenced in backyard and beautiful lawn. I was sorry
that some of the backyard would have to be spaded and rototilled, but I was
going to have a garden!
With three children, I knew how much money could be saved by freezing
and canning the bounty which the Lord would provide.
My husband lucked out on the rototilling. A kind neighbor came over
with his son and offered to spade up the ground! I kept the lemonade and
iced tea coming to them, visualizing my soon to be garden. I was so
grateful for their kindness.
"How large do you want it?" our neighbor asked.
"Oh," surveying the entire yard, I said, "From the back fence post to
this area..." I started walking off a good distance.
"Wow, you''re going to have a lot of weeding to do," our neighbor replied.
That was my first inkling that I might be making this a bit too large,
but I had a number of things I wanted to plant and he was offering!
Later that evening, as Steve walked in the door, the kids ran up to
their dad. Our oldest said, "You should see the backyard, daddy. The
grass is gone!" Not the best way to approach the subject.
I laughed. "Honey, guess what? Our neighbor down the street rented a
rototiller to do his own yard, and he and his son offered to do ours."
"Hey, that''s great," he said striding for a glance out of the back
kitchen window. "Good heavens, Dee, did he think we had farm land here,
why is it so large?"
"Well, I knew I wanted to freeze and do a lot of canning, so I figured
the number of seeds I''d need, and asked him to make it this size." I knew
he thought I''d ordered the entire supply of seeds from Burpee.
The weather couldn''t have been better and as we watched the kids at
play with their swing set and tire filled with sand, we proceeded to make
our trails, holes, build our mounds and plant our seeds. Everything had
been all laid out on paper as to what was going to be planted where. Now
we could all watch the seeds and plants grow.
"How did we get so many tomatoes from just those few plants?" I was
in awe. "The vines are weighed down with those large beauties!" I
couldn''t wait to see how everything was coming up.
The snap beans, the radishes and onions, the cukes, squash and the
zucchini were doing great. Lots of zucchini!
"Look at all that zucchini, Steve. I don''t remember planting that
many seeds," I said.
"Well, dear, we did. Remember you wanted to harvest, can and freeze?"
he smiled.
At night we had great meals. Fresh green beans, sliced zucchini
simmered with onions, and sliced tomatoes with our meat. As our yield
increased, I started inventing new ways to use zucchini that summer. I
sliced, battered and fried. I used it with meat and tomatoes in a
casserole. I made a vegetable dish with zucchini, cheese, onions and
tomatoes.
Then I found a recipe for Zucchini Bread, and I started to make breads.
When a dish was needed to take to a church function or someone''s home,
I volunteered to make a cake. I found my bread recipe that made two loaf
pans would also make a wonderful looking bundt cake. It was so moist and
didn''t need frosting, people loved my cake and breads.
I was in Zucchini heaven!
As the summer progressed so did the zucchini, and I could see the need
for some help with my home economics pursuit. I was having dreams of
zucchini! I called Mom and asked if she would like to come over with her
empty canning jars.
"Just wear old clothes mom, we''ll be doing some canning," I chimed.
"Bring a nightgown, you might want to stay a few days."
I was constantly sending a dish of something down to the neighbor who
helped me with my initial ground breaking. Was it my imagination, or did
his wife paste on a smile of "Thanks, dear" on my third trip over there?
That casserole had been my own invention!
Mom came and we "put up" tomatoes, whole, diced and pureed; chili
sauce; bread and butter pickles and squash. She even had a recipe for
pickling zucchini cut into chunks.
We made breads, lots of them! I used the regular size bread tins, but
also smaller ones, the size we could use for gifts. I added some
maraschino cherries to the batter and made tiny zucchini breads to give out
at Christmas time.
We blanched and froze the beans and by mid-August my garden was
getting pretty bare, except for a few pumpkins we planted later in the
season.
As summer turned to fall, I gathered the pie pumpkins, placing them in
my canning room and surveyed my garden within. It looked great!
"I can''t wait until Christmas when I can give out pint jars of chili
sauce and little zucchini breads, tied with pretty bows," I announced.
"Yes, dear." I thought I could detect a less than exciting note to my
husband''s voice. "I just know our friends will be looking forward to your
homemade gifts, especially the zucchini bread."
You would have thought he''d eaten it everyday this summer! Well,
maybe he had!
Anyone for a good zucchini bread recipe?
-- Diane Dean White <Thelamb212 @ aol.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

THE MESSENGER
by Bob Perks
"Are you the one?"
I''ve asked myself that question thousands of times through the years.
You see, all of the answers I need in life always come through people.
Everyday people I meet along the way.
All the truly important things in life I''ve learned the hard way. God
knows I''m a blockhead sometimes, and blockheads need some serious shaking
up in order to guide them, give them direction or simply let them know when
to get out of the way.
I''ve learned that God sends people to me. Some as a friendly reminder
that there are beautiful people who, like flowers along the road way, make
the journey easier to travel.
But many unknowingly have a message for me, a story to tell,
directions or answers to my prayers.
So, you''ll have to believe me when I tell you this, every time I meet
someone I say to myself, "Are you the one?"
Expecting that at any moment anyone can be God''s messenger, I try
desperately to pay special attention to who they are and what they have to
say.
No, they don''t step in front of me and announce "God has sent me. He
told me you are a blockhead and I need to make sure you understand what He
wants you to do next!"
I wish it were that easy.
Sometimes people step in and out of my life like on a ride in an
elevator or standing in line to buy a cheeseburger. Their smile, frown,
comment, or actions often times trigger a story, or confirm I''m on the
right path.
Sometimes the most important messages come from the most unlikely sources.
Like today.
I was speaking to a wonderful couple who were sharing their own
experiences with hospice. The woman spoke about how peaceful her brother''s
death was and told me that she missed him very much. He had passed away
less than two years ago.
"He was a tough man, but I would yell at him and he''d listen. I miss
yelling at him," she said.
"I hope that when I''m gone someone will miss me. I think that is the
greatest accomplishment in life. To have such an impact on others that,
upon your passing, they would feel the emptiness," I said.
Then, I heard someone say, "You used to be the host on PBS television
weren''t you?"
"Yes, I was," I replied.
"Well, I miss you! You see you''re not there now and someone misses
you. You don''t have to die to be missed," he said.
"Are you the one?" I thought.
Most anyone would think he was a highly unlikely source of God''s
guidance. This old man wore a dirty sport coat, heavily stained pants,
messy hair tucked under a hat older than I am and generally looked like a
homeless man just passing through.
But I know better. This may very well be the one to deliver an
important message to me today. I''ve been anxiously waiting for one.
He had the warmest smile hidden slightly by his aged, wrinkled face.
He told me how much he had enjoyed watching me on television. I wasn''t
listening to what he said. I am uncomfortable with praise. But his eyes
spoke volumes to me.
"Do you have a minute?" he asked.
Believing he was about to say something of utmost importance to me I
replied, "I have all the time you need, my friend!"
He then reached in one of the two large shopping bags he was carrying.
Pulling out a black binder, he went on to show me a plan he developed for
the "future growth of our downtown."
His work was clear and concise. The ideas he had made perfect sense.
His handwriting was neat and legible.
Then it hit me. He could have been God Himself standing there with a
message to save the world, but because he looked like the least
significant, most unlikely source to deliver anything of value, no one
would ever pay attention to him.
He was intelligent, bright, organized... but old and poor. If anyone
spoke with him at all, it would most likely be out of pity, missing
anything of importance he had to say.
They would humor him.
They would ignore him.
They would pass him by, perhaps even avoid him all together.
In doing so they would miss an incredible opportunity to learn
something important.
The message was -- "the messenger!"
-- Bob Perks <Bob @ BobPerks.com>
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

A SLICE OF HEAVEN
by Kathy Anne Harris
When man became aware of good and bad, of heaven and hell, of darkness
and light, he questioned God.
"What is heaven like, God?
God sat down with man, in a quaint little garden, took in a big
breath, and explained what heaven was like to man. Barely breathing, man
watched -- enraptured, not interrupting.
When God had finished with his description, man dropped his arms down
at his sides, shook his head and mumbled, "It is all so grand and beyond
anything I have here to compare. I cannot envision the place of which you
speak."
With a perplexed look on his countenance and fearing he had
disappointed God, man hung his head and moisture collected in his eyes.
God stood up, wiped debris from the back of his garment, and walked over to
man. He laid a hand on man''s shoulder and said He was sorry He had not
been able to convey the glorious nature of heaven. Feeling disheartened
that he had let his creation down, God turned and walked away from man.
Man did not move. He still sat there, head hanging down, arms at his
sides. And a tear rolled off each cheek and fell to the earth below the
boy.
You see, this human was yet a boy. Not the man he would become.
While understanding came easily to the boy, more so than it might to an
adult, the boy still needed a frame of reference when learning about the
more abstract concepts -- especially ones that required a great deal of
faith.
Several yards away from the boy, God paused. A smile sketched across
His face. The boy did not notice that God had stopped.
God held out his left arm, thrust his palm out and grinned. He was
still facing away from the boy. God heard the boy sob, then God nodded.
To Himself, He said, "Here, lad, is something that will best express to you
what is most wondrous about heaven. And here, also, is a bright light,
contained within this vessel. No matter how dark your world, no matter how
abysmal your thoughts, no matter how long the nights -- the illumination
contained within this receptacle will shatter the blackest black. This
creation of mine will remain at your side through the lowest and the
highest moments of your life. This creation embodies the virtues of heaven
and all the joys.
He turned back toward the boy, left arm extended.
"Here," He whispered softly, "a slice of heaven. Now, you will
understand!"
A sparkling dust gathered and swirled from the tips of God''s hand. It
became substance, then bounded off, toward the boy. God canted his head
and watched, pleased with Himself. Knowing the boy would wonder no more
about what heaven was like.
Gazing down at the soil beneath his feet, the boy saw a shadow fast
approaching, lopping straight for him. Before he could stand to flee, a
pink tongue flicked across his fingers. A bushy tail thumped against his
legs. And a mouth full of white teeth smiled up at him. Soft ears flopped
back as the creature stared up into the boy''s eyes.
A private communication was exchanged between the boy and the
creature. The boy giggled, bent down, and swept the animal up into his
arms.
"He is a living mirror of heaven, and therefore, a mirror of Me. Out
of a great affection for the creature that reflects back so much of what
heaven is, and in so doing, reflects back so much of what I am, I have
named him dog. Treat him well, for no other will be as true to you, nor
teach you as much as this one small creature will."
-- Kathy Anne Harris <bluebelliedlizard @ earthlink.net>
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Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .

FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY
Joshua, 5, was in the car with his parents on the way to visit his
grandparents. He hadn''t seen them since Christmas, and he exclaimed, "I
have a big happy on my face!" -- Sholee Kreps (mother of Joshua and Ryann)
of Gilbert, Arizona
Tracee was driving on the freeway past the airport when her 3-year-old
daughter Jenna said, "Momma, there''s Grandma''s house!" Her daughter
thought that''s where grandmother lived because that''s where they always
pick her up! (Note: Whenever she visits, grandmother brings tons of "junk"
jewelry that she acquired at garage sales. She would be wearing every bit
of jewelry that she had acquired since her last visit and when they got
home she would ceremoniously remove the "jewels" to give to Jenna.) --
Tracee of Reno, Nevada
Arie, 9, was riding her bicycle on July 4. A big dog came barking at
her and she lost control of her bike, crashed and broke her left arm. Her
dad had to take her to an emergency care clinic. The doctors put her under
to put the arm in place. When they got home, Arie told her mom, "The
doctors gave me amnesia." Her mom said, "Don''t you mean they gave you an
anesthetic?" Her father explained, "No, they gave her amnesia; she doesn''t
remember a thing!" -- Joyce (grandmother) of Colorado Springs, Colorado
The mother of Stephanie, 3, had foot surgery. For several weeks she
had to use crutches. When Stephanie saw her mother in the hall one day
without her crutches, she said, "Mom, you are all better. You don''t have
your handles!" -- from Sharon Stark (grandmother of Stephanie) of
Kendallville, Indiana
Nathaniel, 7, was watching one of the recent award shows on TV when a
popular rapper performed for the audience. His mom, Elaine, commented that
she couldn''t understand a word the rapper was saying. Nathaniel quickly
responded, "He must be singing in cursive." -- Earl King of Chesterfield,
Virginia
Cha Mẹ nuôi con như biển hồ lai láng .
Con nuôi Cha Mẹ sao tính tháng , tính ngày .