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July12, 2005 - Pakadevas Freebees Archives July 11 >> |
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A quick note from mom this morning. Hi everyone, We are on the east coast...spent a night in Quebec...please ask a member, Mar, in Quebec, to email me in case we go back through Quebec instead of the US...we may be able to say hello. Didn't have computer access when the thought came to my head! We are having a nice time:) Love you all! Patsy A Prayer for London England http://l.blesstheday.com/redir.cfm/20136/180114/18860/24185484 Welcome to Pakadevas Inspirational Sunday Newsletter. Enjoy your stay. We would like to welcome those visiting our list for the first time. We're glad you're here. We put out inspirations on Sunday only & an interesting `free one all week at: http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com Gob Bless and Keep you safe, Patsy & Kay ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The Cross Room The young man was at the end of his rope. Seeing no way out, he dropped to his knees in prayer. "Lord, I can't go on," he said. "I have too heavy a cross to bear." The Lord replied, "My son, if you can't bear its weight, just place your cross inside this room. Then, open that other door and pick out any cross you wish." The man was filled with relief. "Thank you, Lord," he sighed, and he did as he was told. Upon entering the other door, he saw many crosses, some so large the tops were not visible. Then, he spotted a tiny cross leaning against a far wall. "I'd like that one, Lord," he whispered. And the Lord replied," My son, that is the cross you just brought in." When life's problems seem overwhelming, it helps to look around and see what other people are coping with. You may consider yourself far more fortunate than you imagined. Author Unknown ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "Great minds must be ready not only to take opportunities, but to make them." ??“-Colton ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Under the Cover of Wings An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating picture of God's wings. After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had singed her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, so those under the cover of her wings would live. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Psalm 91:4 ???He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "In life you can never be too kind or too fair; everyone you meet is carrying a heavy load. When you go through your day expressing kindness and courtesy to all you meet, you leave behind a feeling of warmth and good cheer, and you help alleviate the burdens everyone is struggling with." -- Brian Tracy ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* A Careful Word A man used to grumble at the food his wife placed before him at meal time. Then he would ask the blessing. One day after his usual combination complaint and prayer his little girl asked, "Daddy, does God hear us when we pray?" "Why, of course," he replied. "He hears us every time we pray." "And does he hear everything we say the rest of the time?" "Yes, every word," he replied, encouraged that he had inspired his daughter to be curious about spiritual matters. Innocently she burst his bubble with her next question. "Then which does God believe?" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ???You have to do your own growing no matter how tall your grandfather was.??? --Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865) ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Excerpt from THE EYE OF THE STORM by Max Lucado. Love God more than you fear hell. Once a week, let a child take you on a walk. Make major decisions in a cemetery. When no one is watching, live as if someone is. Succeed at home first. Don't spend tomorrow's money today. Pray twice as much as you fret. Listen twice as much as you speak. Only harbor a grudge when God does. Never outgrow your love of sunsets. Treat people like angels; you will meet some and help make some. 'Tis wiser to err on the side of generosity than on the side of scrutiny. God has forgiven you; you'd be wise to do the same. When you can't trace God's hand, trust his heart. Toot your own horn and the notes will be flat. Don't feel guilty for God's goodness. The book of life is lived in chapters, so know your page number. Never let the important be the victim of the trivial. Love your liturgy ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Little Eyes and Little Hands THERE ARE LITTLE EYES UPON YOU AND THEY'RE WATCHING NIGHT AND DAY. THERE ARE LITTLE EARS THAT QUICKLY TAKE IN EVERYTHING YOU SAY. THERE ARE LITTLE HANDS ALL EAGER TO DO ANYTHING YOU DO; AND A LITTLE BOY WHO'S DREAMING OF THE DAY HE'LL BE LIKE YOU. YOU'RE THE FELLOW'S IDOL, YOU'RE THE WISEST OF THE WISE. IN HIS MIND ABOUT YOU NO SUSPICIONS EVER RISE. HE BELIEVES IN YOU DEVOUTLY HOLD ALL YOU SAY AND DO HE WILL SAY AND DO,IN YOUR WAY WHEN HE'S GROWN UP JUST LIKE YOU. THERE'S A WIDE EYED LITTLE FELLOW WHO BELIEVES YOU'RE ALWAYS RIGHT; AND HIS EYES ARE ALWAYS OPENED, AND HE WATCHES DAY AND NIGHT. YOU ARE SETTING AN EXAMPLE EVERYDAY IN ALL YOU DO; FOR THE LITTLE BOY WHO'S WAITING TO GROW UP TO BE LIKE YOU. author unknown ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "To dream anything that you want to dream. That is the beauty of the human mind. To do anything that you want to do. That is the strength of the human will. To trust yourself to test your limits. That is the courage to succeed." --Bernard Edmonds ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life." "Yeah, right, it's not that easy", I protested. "Yes it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning, and was held up at gunpoint by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body. I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door", Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live. "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?", I asked. Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man'. I knew I needed to take action." "What did you do?", I asked. "Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me", said Jerry. She asked if I was allergic to anything. "Yes", I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply... I took a deep breath and yelled, "Bullets!" Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead." Jerry lived, thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The Beach Story She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea. "Hello!" she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said. "I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring. "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of the sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy," the child said. "It's what?" "It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird glided down the beach. "Good-bye joy," I muttered to myself, "hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered, "I'm Robert Peterson." . "Mine's Wendy . . . I'm six." "Hi, Wendy.". She giggled. "You're funny, " she said.. In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. "Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day." The days and weeks that followed belonged to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. "I need a sandpiper," I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared. "Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?" "What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. "I don't know, you say." . "How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.. The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is." "Then lets just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked. "Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?" "I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things.. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, "My God, why was I saying this to a little child?" "Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday, and the day before and oh just go away!" "Did it hurt?" she inquired. "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself. "When she died?" "Of course, it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked on the door. A drawn looking woman with honey-colored hair opened the door. "Hello," I said. "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was?" "Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies." "Not at all - she's a delightful child, " I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. "Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you." Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath. "She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly . . . Her voice faltered, "She left something for you . . . if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?" I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with MR.P printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon of a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words - one for each year of her life - that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand - who taught me the gift of love. NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. "The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less." Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a monetary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment . . . even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses Till we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand... Patsy xoxoxo (|)(|) Hugs and ((())) (*.*) Smiles and :):):) /~*~\ Kisses too!! xxx (")(") This is what I wish for you! From P.J. & me too! |
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