A few months before I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small town.
From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later.
As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it. But the stranger He was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.
If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ballgame. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to her room and read her books (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)
Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our long time visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.
My Dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in the home, not even for cooking. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... and NEVER asked to leave.
More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you were to walk into my parent's den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?....Well, we just call him, "TV."
**Note: He has a younger sister now. We call her, "Computer."**
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Texas....Gotta Love It!
Texas ...gotta love it!
A man in Topeka , Kansas , decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco and started working east from there.
Going to a very large church he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign that read, "$10,000 per minute."
Seeking out the pastor, he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that the golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven, and if he pays the price, he can talk directly to God. The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way.
As he continued to visit churches in Seattle , Salt Lake City , Denver , Chicago , Milwaukee , and around the United States , he found more such phones with the same sign and the same explanation from each pastor. Finally, the man arrived in the great state of Texas . Upon entering a church, behold, he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read: "Calls: 25 cents"!? Fascinated, the man asked to speak with the pastor.
"Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven, and that I could use it to talk to God.... But in 20 other churches, the cost was $10,000 per minute. Your sign says 25 cents per call.
....Why is that?(I just love this part!)
The pastor, smiling kindly, replied: "Son, you're in Texas now and it's a local call."
May the LORD bless your day
A man in Topeka , Kansas , decided to write a book about churches around the country. He started by flying to San Francisco and started working east from there.
Going to a very large church he began taking photographs and making notes. He spotted a golden telephone on the vestibule wall and was intrigued with a sign that read, "$10,000 per minute."
Seeking out the pastor, he asked about the phone and the sign. The pastor answered that the golden phone is, in fact, a direct line to Heaven, and if he pays the price, he can talk directly to God. The man thanked the pastor and continued on his way.
As he continued to visit churches in Seattle , Salt Lake City , Denver , Chicago , Milwaukee , and around the United States , he found more such phones with the same sign and the same explanation from each pastor. Finally, the man arrived in the great state of Texas . Upon entering a church, behold, he saw the usual golden telephone. But THIS time, the sign read: "Calls: 25 cents"!? Fascinated, the man asked to speak with the pastor.
"Reverend, I have been in cities all across the country and in each church I have found this golden telephone, and have been told it is a direct line to Heaven, and that I could use it to talk to God.... But in 20 other churches, the cost was $10,000 per minute. Your sign says 25 cents per call.
....Why is that?(I just love this part!)
The pastor, smiling kindly, replied: "Son, you're in Texas now and it's a local call."
May the LORD bless your day
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Jesus & the Mud Puddle
JESUS & THE MUD PUDDLE (You gotta believe a 6 year old)
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Green town with his dad. The father and sonwere near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph.
Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked.
Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine. Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone, Mikey, just as matter-of-factly, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?
Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him." said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
GIVES YOU GLORY BUMPS DOESN'T IT!
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Green town with his dad. The father and sonwere near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph.
Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked.
Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine. Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone, Mikey, just as matter-of-factly, said, "Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?
Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him." said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
GIVES YOU GLORY BUMPS DOESN'T IT!
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