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Sunday 04/10/05 This is the place. We have a *free*bies, interesting finds, *contests, beauty, crafts & recipes *news-letter* Mon.- Sat. & have added this Inspirational one for Sundays only... For our NEW PEOPLE; you have arrived at Pakadevas-Free*bees from our *site, or other *sites, *news-letters, -search -engines etc. Enjoy your stay:) http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com aol link Daily-news http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/news.html *Welcome everyone* to our Inspirationals. Most of these were sent in by some of you TO the rest of you:) If you have something to add, or a request...send it along, we print them all, within reason...this *news-letter is for you! Thank you all... *Removal *instructions are at the bottom of any ...news... Please go see your Prayer Requests for today: http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/PrayerRequests.html aol link ~To see PakadevasFreebees Archives: New archives http://archives.zinester.com/27358 Old Archives aol link ~Thank you for these beautiful notes:) * * Hi Patsy ! Thanks, It's great hearing from you too. OOPS !! Okay, I didn't know his name was Kyle, My fault !! Get better soon, TC,TYYL, Hugs & Love you, Lori Please keep my Aunt in your prayers, she has Cancer and it's the fast kind, and she lost 23 pounds already and it started in her kidney and spread to her lungs and now her stomach. She's had 4 rounds of chemo and gets shots 3 times a week, and goes to the doctor every Monday for 3 months, and then their going to check and see how she's doing and if it's helping her. She has gone down hill so bad, she uses a walker and can hardly walk, she gets tired and doesn't want to eat. She looks older now, and she whispers when she talks, and gets shortness of breath fast. And doesn't go anywhere but to the doctors and back home again, she has changed so much, she is so pale and looks like a ghost, We're worried about her !!!! Please pray for her, God bless & Thanks !! Cards will cheer her up and if anyone would like to send any to my Aunt or Mom ! Please e-mail me for the address !! ( Mrslorid39@cox.net) if you can't send cards, then just pray !! God Bless, Love you all , Your friend, Lori Thoughts and prayers are with you and yours ! Have A Good day ! Prayers for Kay and Patsy and Kyle !! * * What?!! Not a member of PakadevasFreebees yet? Join Here:) http://www.ezinester.com/mpb/ml_fs.cgi?topic=97178 Please ~Vote...we (you & me) can be #1:) http://www.top50.to/inclick.php?ID=20600 aol link (\o/) Alma sent me one of her beautiful CD's a few days ago...this is something really worth listening to. I can easily say, it is some of the best music I have ever had the pleasure of listening to & I play it often Thank you for sharing sweet Alma:) THE EAGLE http://www.zyworld.com/katlyn25/Yukon.htm (\o/) (\o/) At Aunt Jennie's Knee By Cheewa James The Native American voice was once a mighty roar across this land. But just as the vast buffalo herds once thundered across the plains and are no more, the voice of the American Indian has faded to a whisper. The powerful voice and the age-old wisdom of the Native American - carried in drumbeat and passed from tongue to tongue as the evening fires met the twilight - still live. The timeless philosophy and principles for living await those who choose to - Catch the Whisper of the Wind. Cheewa James When we were young children in the 1940s, my brother, sister and I would pile into the back seat of our car every Sunday for the ride to visit my great-great-great aunt Jennie Clinton, who lived on the Klamath Indian Reservation in Oregon. She was the last survivor of the Modoc War of 1872 to 1873, fought in what is today the Lava Beds National Monument, California. The Modoc War was the only American Indian war ever fought on California soil. Considering the number of Indians involved, it was one of the most expensive American Indian battles, in loss of money and lives. Fifty Modoc warriors, who had their women and children with them in a natural lava fortress, held off a military force that by the end of the war numbered one thousand U.S. military soldiers. Jennie was a young woman during the war and would pull needed clothes and ammunition from the bodies of fallen soldiers. She hated her job. Jennie died in 1950 somewhere around one hundred years of age. As we would leave to visit Jennie and some of the other Indian women on the reservation, my mother would turn around to the three of us in the back seat and admonish us not to admire any of the possessions of the older people - especially jewelry. If we expressed admiration for something, chances were, it would be given to us. It was something we three kids picked up on very quickly - and something my mother was very swift to squelch. As it turned out, the unimagined gift I received from Aunt Jennie proved to be much more valuable than jewelry. As I sat listening to Aunt Jennie tell stories, I knew something special was happening - but at my young age I couldn't comprehend its full significance. Yet deep down I felt a stirring, an emotional bonding with Jennie, a seed being planted that would ultimately shape my life. But what was this thing that I felt so deeply? I have often thought back on that early lesson in Native American generosity and lack of emphasis on material possessions. For a little girl just learning about life, I saw the priority the elders gave to the act of sharing. Children do not do what you say; they do what you do. I had my role models early on. Aunt Jennie was my first and greatest role model as a storyteller, which ultimately shaped my writing life. On those Sundays we would visit Jennie in her old house made of lumber that had long ago peeled to a weather-beaten gray. We three children would sit on her front porch, gathered at her feet. That put me right at eye-level with her hands. At first they frightened me and reminded me of a bird's claws. But Sunday by Sunday, I got used to them. They were part of her. To this day, when I see the bony, aging hands of elderly people, I feel tenderness. Jennie often read to us from the Bible. She was totally blind. Like most of the Modoc, she had become a Quaker after her arrival in Oklahoma Indian Territory, where the Modoc exiles were sent as prisoners of war after the Modoc War. In 1907, the Modocs were allowed to return to the Oregon/California area. Although most did not return because the land of exile had become home, Jennie still remembered the homeland, where her people had resided for many thousands of years, and went back. Knowing she was losing her eyesight, she had memorized great portions of the Bible. With the three of us grouped at her feet, she would open her Bible to a prescribed page and "read." Jennie was a master storyteller in the tradition of Native American people. Where written language does not exist, passing information down orally, in an accurate way, becomes an art form, made famous by Alex Haley in Roots. It was also a means of survival. Medicinal cures, theology, food gathering and preparing techniques, geographical directions, herbology - all facets of life were passed down by word of mouth. It was indeed the transferral of a culture. Jennie Clinton would tell wonderful stories that often had to do with the core of life itself. Into many of her stories, she would weave a message or lesson for us. Because it was all in the framework of meaningful, exciting stories, we did not easily forget the moral. Jennie taught the beauty of sharing time with words. We have so many substitutes today. Television, computers and video often replace sitting at an elder's knee. People now have no idea how their parents met, what their grandparents did as young people, or even what happened on the day they were born. But in those periods of time I spent with Jennie, there was something even more important than the passing of information. I don't remember everything Jennie said. I was only a small girl at the time. But what I do clearly remember is the emotion - the bonding and the incredible feeling of being part of a continuing circle of love. When I think of her rusty old voice drifting through the air on those lazy Sundays, I feel a warmth, a flood of human caring. As I wandered through life, attending college, getting married and raising a family, my mind kept drifting back to Aunt Jennie. What was it that felt so incomplete - something missing in my life? Then one day, it hit me like a bolt of lightning out of the blue: Aunt Jennie's true gift to me was not jewelry, but the art of storytelling. At that moment, my future became clear: I, too, would become a storyteller - a professional writer. With a burst of energy over the next few years, I wrote and sold 150 articles and, eventually, two books. Since I'd married a man who likes birds, snakes and bats, I found my greatest stories in my own life, right under my own nose. I sold my first story to the Kansas City Star on what it was like to be a birdwatcher's wife. More of my articles appeared in Smithsonian and National Wildlife on rare bats, stories that read just as I would speak them. Most of the articles I published, I was able to share initially in verbal story form with my two sons, David and Todd. As a writer, I discovered very quickly that adult readers are just grown-up children. Life is a series of stories - and everyone has one. It was only right that my first book, Catch the Whisper of the Wind, be a compilation of stories about Native North Americans. Where did I find these people? They sat next to me on planes, pumped my gas, sold me jewelry. In other words, any Native American that I chanced to run into in the course of a day was great material for the book. Although many people started their stories by telling me they really didn't have a story, they all had a story to tell. Later, writing - and storytelling - helped me find a niche as a television talk show host, news anchor, and finally a professional speaker. I learned well at Aunt Jennie's knee. Even though she never put it into words and would probably be astonished at what she has passed on to me, Jennie taught me a lot about writing and life. Jennie taught me that the human heart and mind are boundless and amazing. She taught me that the greatest tool a writer has is not the pen, paper, typewriter or computer. It isn't even the command of grammar, composition and word formation. It is the ability to listen. Aunt Jennie's voice, once a strong force across this land, is long gone now. But her spirit - who she was, what she stood for, and what she taught me - lives on. Even today, I can hear her voice - if I'll only catch the whisper of the wind. Thank you Renie:) (\o/) (\o/) The Unity Prayer http://www.mormonmohawk.com/traditional/unityprayer.html (\o/) (\o/) Thanks to Jounda for sharing her talents with us:) Hello Patsy, I love your newsletter - what a blessing - I wrote a piece this week and thought I would pass it on - if you feel led to include it that would be great - if not no big deal! My God richly bless you Jounda Confessions of a Tired Christian Do you ever get tired? I don??™t mean tired from a hard days work or bad day on the golf course, but really tired? Tired from all the events that just seem to unfold on a daily basis? Do you ever wonder if there is an end? Today I stood over the toilet plunging it for the 50th time, trying to prevent a flood for a 2nd time, and hoping that I had enough towels in front of the leaking water heater, so as not to cause further damage to the already soaked floor, and wondered if there was an end to the ever unfolding chain of events that seem to happen on a daily basis. If the water problems were all that was happening, perhaps it would be easy to shrug off, but that is not the worst of the problems. My eldest child has decided to take the plunge into a world of hard drug use, seemingly unafraid of the long-term consequences. Her decision plays havoc in my home on a daily basis. Creating an environment of fear and distrust, not to mention heartbreak and helplessness. Today, as I plunged with all my strength attempting to control one aspect of my life, I realized that I am tired. Confession of a tired Christian . . . I am tired of fighting the never-ending challenges that arise everyday. Tired of wondering when it is going to end. Tired of feeling frustrated. Tired of the white-knuckled grip on a rope that has frayed. What do you do when you??™re at the end of your rope and find it has frayed? That lifeline is not supposed to fray. It??™s supposed to be tough and carry you through the deepest roughest waters. Yet, my rope has frayed, or at least that is how it appeared today. Each minute seems to bring a new surprise. I walk on egg-shells afraid to move the wrong way for fear that was is left of this earthly home will crumble at my feet. You see, I confess I am a person that desperately needs to be in control; yet again I am coming to realize that control is not always mine to have. As I count out the frayed ends, and watch each strand slip from my grip, I fight for one last breath, determined to play the game my way. Tenaciously holding on for the last round, knowing that I didn??™t come this far to just give up. Or did I? In a last ditch effort to save myself from drowning, I throw back my head and with clenched teeth express to God just how unhappy I am. I mean, I??™m a Christian isn??™t there supposed to be a respite for the saints? Instead I find myself fighting against the current and tasting the salty water as it spreads over my face. I know that at any moment I will have to succumb to the inevitable and give up the fight. The strands unravel before my eyes, and I understand that the one piece of thin rope that I desperately cling to will not keep me above water when the next wave comes rushing in. So, I scream again over the waves, ???GOD HAVE YOU TOTALLY FORGOTTEN ME? DO YOU SEE I AM AT THE END OF MY ROPE AND THE END IS FRAYED???? Did someone say Tough Love? Of course I quickly explained to God that I understood, I was trying with everything in me to practice Tough Love within my home. A few weeks ago I pulled in the rope and determined that I would love my child with everything in me, but I would no longer enable. With each new situation that arises I am learning to stand my ground regardless of the pain or heartbreak I felt. Each time I had to lock the door leaving her in the rain, I understood it was necessary to let her know that there is always love but often that love is displayed in a tough fashion. With each incident I repeated to myself, someday she will see that it is for her own good. Someday she will understand why I had to do the things that seem so hard. But even as I reasoned with Him, I understood He was talking to me, about me. If what I was thinking was true, God, my Father had pulled back the reins and practiced tough love on me. And it wasn??™t very pleasant. You see things like this are often easier to dispense than to receive. Of course if I wasn??™t certain enough God directed me to Hebrews 12:6 for whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. I confess, these words make me cringe. I would rather things go my way. I would rather bask in the pleasantries of life and know easy street. I??™d rather be in control. I??™d rather skate by thinking everything is cool between He and I. Or would I? Yesterday my grandson threw a temper tantrum because he didn??™t get his way, and I told myself, as I sat patiently, that this is a ???thing??™ that only small children do. It certainly isn??™t a pleasant visual thinking about an adult acting in this fashion, but I realize that when I didn??™t get what I wanted a few months ago, I began a series of temper tantrums until the rope that I clung to with a white knuckle grip became frayed and I found myself trying to plunge my way out of water. I confess that I actually cannot do a better job than God. My life works so much better when I allow Him to be in control of every aspect. I confess that things didn??™t go as I had planned or wanted, but He knows best. He has something better, and everything is in His perfect timing. I confess that on my own I am a mess. I confess that I am tired. Tired of resisting, tired of fighting the current, tired of the rope burn. Tired of grasping to frayed ends. I understand that the confession of being tired does not mean that the storm will cease. But there is a satisfaction in knowing that just as my grandson wore himself out and crawled into my lap and fell asleep, I too can crawl into the lap of my Heavenly Father and rest. And at the other end of that frayed rope is a God so full of love and mercy, so understanding and forgiving. Tough Love is not easy, no matter what end you happen to be on, but through it all, it is appreciated. By Jounda LaMance 2/4/05 Thank you Jounda:) (\o/) (\o/) A is for always thinking of others N is for numerous kind acts G is for going above and beyond E is for endless devotion L is for how much you are loved. Thank you Abby:) (\o/) (\o/) The Legend Of The First Robin http://www.mamarocks.com/first_robin.htm (\o/) (\o/) If Jesus Came To Your House If Jesus came to your house to spend a day or two, if He came unexpectedly, I wonder what you'd do. Oh, I know you'd give your nicest room to such an honored guest, and all the food you'd serve to him would be the very best. And you would keep assuring Him you're glad to have him there. That serving Him in your own home is a joy beyond compare. But when you saw Him coming, would you meet Him at the door, with arms outstretched in welcome to your Heavenly visitor? Or would you have to change your clothes before you let him in? Or hide some magazines and put the Bible where it'd been? Would you turn off the radio, and hope He hadn't heard? And wish you hadn't uttered that last loud hasty word? Would you hide your worldly music, and put some hymn books out? Could you let Jesus come right in or would you have to rush about? And I wonder if the Saviour spent a day or two with you, would you go right on doing the things you always do? Would you go right on saying the things you always say? Would life for you continue as it does from day to day? Would your family conversation keep up it's usual pace? And would you find it hard each meal to say a table grace? Would you sing the songs you always sing, and read the books you read? And let Him know the things on which your mind and spirit feed? Would you take Jesus with you everywhere you'd planned to go? Or would you maybe change your plans for just a day or so? Would you be glad to have Him meet your very closest friends? Or would you hope they'd stay away until His visit ends? Would you be glad to have Him stay forever on and on? Or would you sigh with great relief when He at last was gone? It might be interesting to know the things you would do, if Jesus Christ in person came to spend some time with you. (\o/) (\o/) Just a Breath Away http://www.mamarocks.com/just_a_breath_away.htm (\o/) (\o/) When You Thought I Wasn't Looking When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you hang my first picture on the refrigerator, and I wanted to paint another one. When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you feed a stray cat, and I thought it was good to be kind to animals. When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw you make my favorite cake for me, and I knew that little things are special things. When you thought I wasn't looking, I heard you say a prayer, and I believed there was a God that I could always talk to. When you thought I wasn't looking, I felt you kiss me good night, and I felt loved. When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that sometimes things hurt, but it's all right to cry. When you thought I wasn't looking, I saw that you cared and I wanted to be everything that I could be. When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked....and now I want to say thanks for all the things I saw, when you thought I wasn't looking. (\o/) (\o/) To all of you from me:) HE http://www.mamarocks.com/he.htm I thought this to be very comforting to those of us who may be feeeling down today... Remember Him...Our love to you...Patsy & Kay xoxoxo Remembering Rob 1-10 http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/RememberingRob.html aol link RememberingRob10 (still in progress) http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/RememberingRob10.html aol link (\o/) Please take a moment & vote for Pakadevas:) http://www.top50.to/inclick.php?ID=20600 aol link Have a blessed day! Patsy *S* ---Important-Disclaimer at the bottom of this page--- Please Read! aol link This e-news-letter uses third party *ads & *links & *ad *swaps with other -web-sites, if you do not wish to receive any of these, please follow the -link- at the end of this issue & -un-sub-scribe, otherwise, we take it as your agreement to receive such articles in our news. Thank you for your co-operation in this matter. Our mailing address for new mailing rules under the new act. Please only use this for friendly mail:) Thank you...Patsy *S* Patsy Rideout Pakadevas-Freebees PO Box 377, Robert's Arm NL Canada A0J1R0 *Con`tact Patsy: rpkdv@nf.aibn.com If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it. ( \ / ) ( \()/ ) ( / \ ) TAKE THIS LITTLE ANGEL ( / \/ \ ) AND KEEP HER CLOSE TO YOU / \ SHE IS YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL ( ) SENT TO WATCH OVER YOU ____ Thank you Jane K:) (\o/) ??//// \\\\, ___________ *???? o??`* /__/ _/\_ ____/\ ```)??(?????? | | | | | | | || |l?±?±?±?±| ??,.-*?°?? ??,.-*~*~*-.,?? `?°*-. :???° *~*~*-..,?? "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." We'd love to see you stay, but, should you want to go, -click here: |
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