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| << November12, 2005 - [Pakadevas Maple Sponge Candy] |
November14, 2005 - [Pakadevas Honey, you're a natural:)] >> |
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Sunday 11/13/05 Hello everyone, * | * Christmas Dinner for our needy. Please donate or adopt. Please go to this page to donate to help provide Christmas dinner for some of our needy. We have had several years of much success as so many of you sent in donations, adopted families & prayed for needy familes. Let's do it again this year. Go here: http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/misc_html.html To our needy, PLEASE, only if you are truly in need. This is not just a chance to grab something for nothing. We need to help those who truly need it, but, for the grace of God, it could be any of us, & HAS BEEN, many of us before. Please send your note, of why you need to be put on our list. As always, you all will be voting who receives them & as always, some donate, some adopt & those who can't afford...pray. All are appreciated. mailto:rpkdv@nf.aibn.com?subject=Christmas Dinner for the needy Another help place for those in need. Check for your area. http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/help.html We are grateful for all your prayers, beautiful notes, thoughts, support, & love. You are greatly appreciated. Our love, Patsy & Kay * | * This is the place. We have a *free*bies, interesting finds, *cont'ests, beauty, crafts & recipes *news-letter* Mon.- Sat. & have added this Inspirational one for Sundays only... For our NEW PEOPLE; you have arrived at Pakadevas from our *site, or others we advertise with, *news-, -search -engines etc. Enjoy your stay:) http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com 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... *Leaving us *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 Pakadevas Archives: New archives http://archives.zinester.com/27358 Old Archives http://www.archives.ezinester.com/97178 ~Thank you for the beautiful notes:) We have received 100's of them... Love to everyone who wrote & prayed. Patsy & Kay xoxo * * hi patsy, hi i love this wonderful website and im praying for kyle and all of you. thank you so much for the newsletters and freebies. god bless you. Kathy M. * * 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/) Don't give up... http://www.positivethoughts.com/inspirational-greeting-card-dontgiveup.htm Thank you Renie:) (\o/) (\o/) He Never Missed a Game Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion, shares a moving story about a skinny young boy who loved football with all his heart. Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But being half the size of the other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever played. This teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the son was always on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game. This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to encourage him but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he didn't want to. But the young man loved football and decided to hang in there He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through high school he never missed a practice nor a game but remained a bench-warmer all four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him. When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team as a "walk-on." Everyone was sure he could never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster because he always puts his heart and soul to every practice, and at the same time, provided the other members with the spirit and hustle they badly needed. The news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and was sent season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in a game. It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field shortly before the big playoff game, the coach met him with a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent. Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?" The coach put his arm gently around his shoulder and said, "Take the rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday." Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well. In the third quarter, when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful teammate back so soon. "Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close playoff game. But the young man persisted, and finally feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in." Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked, and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fans broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you never heard. Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that this young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?" He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Well, you knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!" Like the athlete's father, God is always there cheering for us. He's always reminding us to go on. He's even offering us His hand for He knows what is best, and is willing to give us what we need and not simply what we want. GOD has never missed a single game. What a joy to know that life is meaningful if lived for the Highest. Live for HIM for He's watching us in the game of life! Thank you Kay:) (\o/) (\o/) Trench http://www.TheTrenchMovie.com Words to the song: Trench There's no bullet as sore as the sight of your eyes When I kissed you one last time So we can be brave, and we can be hero's If we only manage to stay alive For all the things I've sacrificed, and the things that it gave It's a terrible trade, and now I lay awake inside my trench My hands are bruised and my feet are drenched What lay's ahead for me? So we all have a destiny Tell me what is mine And we all have a place to be But here I don't feel right Please say that you're thinking of me Please say that I am not alone And please say that you're dreaming of me And please pray that I'll be coming home guitar solo..... Please say that you're thinking of me Please say that I am not alone And please say that you're dreaming of me And please pray that I'll be coming home Please say that you're thinking of me Please say that I am not alone And please say that you're dreaming of me And please pray that I'll be coming home (\o/) (\o/) Freedom Village By James F. Murphy Jr. My most vivid memory associated with the American flag flashes back to Korea and a gray, clammy day in early August 1953. The Korean War had come to an end a week earlier, on July 27 at precisely 10 p.m. I remember lying in a rice paddy and suddenly experiencing the thunderous, deafening silence of peace. The Chinese and North Koreans, surely as joyful as I, were singing and raising their flags less than two hundred yards away from where my platoon sergeant and I sat smoking celebratory cigars. A military spotlight, affectionately referred to as "Moonbeam Charlie," played along the valley floor and crept up the scarred hills, catching the Chinese and North Koreans in spirited dancing around their outpost flagpole. Their flags seemed to mean something to them, and at that time, I wasn't sure what my flag meant to me. But that changed dramatically a week later, when I was a part of a contingent sent to represent my regiment at "Freedom Village." "Operation Big Switch" was on. Our prisoners of war were to be returned to American hands, as the Chinese and North Koreans were to be returned to their people. Through the dim half-light of fading memory, I recollect that Freedom Village was in a scooped-out hollow with hills brooding over it from four sides. A few dwellings leaned into the village amid taut canvas hospital tents. We representatives of the United Nations stood at attention as ambulances and beat-up buses arrived from the north. The UN, American and Korean flags hung limply in the humid August air. Photographers, Army and civilian alike, scurried about for good vantage points. The Chinese and North Koreans were the first to cross over "Freedom Bridge." They were surly, healthy looking and well fed. Some carried signs decrying capitalism. Members of a Republic of Korea regiment scowled, and one of them sent a spray of saliva in his former opponent's direction. The exchange had a tone of tense and bitter antagonism, and as young as I was, I wondered how long the newly inked truce would last. When the remaining Chinese and North Koreans had been herded off to their own vehicles, the UN prisoners were ushered from the trucks and buses and sent across the bridge to our side. The UN Honor Guard, combat veterans and observers gasped when they saw the condition of their returning comrades, who struggled, hobbled and staggered, gaunt and emaciated, toward friendly faces. One after another they came. The next one was in worse condition than the one before. Long lines of dull-eyed soldiers of the "Forgotten War" inched their way to freedom, and out of their number, a gray-faced stick figure of a boy-turned-old-man dragged himself along the bridge. His bony arms were held out like a sleepwalker. He staggered and swayed, and one time fell into the wooden railing. Every eye in that village was suddenly trained on that one figure. Even those on the northern side watched the gallant physical effort of the wasted soldier. Each tried, inwardly, to help, to urge him on, until finally, when he lurched forward, an MP major, a giant of a man, came up to help. The soldier waved him off with his skeleton hands and arms. Looking around at the grim faces, he caught sight of the three color bearers and shuffled toward them. When he reached the American flag bearer, he knelt on trembling knees before the flag as though it were an altar. He reached up and tugged at the flag. The color bearer, either by instinct or by some infinite wisdom, lowered the flag, and the soldier covered his face with it, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. Other than the clicks of cameras, the village was cemetery-quiet. Tears streamed from all of us. Cotton replaced saliva in our throats. After several moments, the stillness was broken by the sound of the heavy boots of the MP major, who came crunching across the gravel, his cheeks moist and glistening. He bent down and tenderly scooped the soldier up in his muscular arms and carried him off to a waiting ambulance, much as a father would carry a baby. There wasn't a dry eye in that silent village, thousands of miles away from Main Street, USA. Thank you Kay:) (\o/) (\o/) THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE Today, when I awoke, I suddenly realized that this is the best day of my life, ever! There were times when I wondered if I would make it to today; but I did! And because I did I'm going to celebrate! Today, I'm going to celebrate what an unbelievable life I have had so far: the accomplishments, the many blessings, and, yes, even the hardships because they have served to make me stronger. I will go through this day with my head held high, and a happy heart. I will marvel at God's seemingly simple gifts: the morning dew, the sun, the clouds, the trees, the flowers, the birds. Today, none of these miraculous creations will escape my notice. Today, I will share my excitement for life with other people. I'll make someone smile. I'll go out of my way to perform an unexpected act of kindness for someone I don't even know. Today, I'll give a sincere compliment to someone who seems down. I'll tell a child how special he is, and I'll tell someone I love, just how deeply I care for her and how much she means to me. Today is the day I quit worrying about what I don't have and start being grateful for all the wonderful things God has already given me. I'll remember that to worry is just a waste of time because my faith in God and his Divine Plan ensures everything will be just fine. And tonight, before I go to bed, I'll go outside and raise my eyes to the heavens. I will stand in awe at the beauty of the stars and the moon, and I will praise God for these magnificent treasures. As the day ends and I lay my head down on my pillow, I will thank the Almighty for the best day of my life. And I will sleep the sleep of a contented child, excited with expectation because I know tomorrow is going to be the best day of my life, ever! (\o/) (\o/) The Small Things You Do Count by Mark Adams Bill Wilson pastors an inner city church in New York City. His mission field is a very violent place. He himself has been stabbed twice as he ministered to the people of the community surrounding the church. Once a Puerto Rican woman became involved in the church and was led to Christ. After her conversion she came to Pastor Wilson and said, "I want to do something to help with the church's ministry." He asked her what her talents were and she could think of nothing--she couldn't even speak English--but she did love children. So he put her on one of the church's buses that went into neighborhoods and transported kids to church. Every week she performed her duties. She would find the worst-looking kid on the bus, put him on her lap and whisper over and over the only words she had learned in English: "I love you. Jesus loves you." After several months, she became attached to one little boy in particular. The boy didn't speak. He came to Sunday school every week with his sister and sat on the woman's lap, but he never made a sound. Each week she would tell him all the way to Sunday school and all the way home, "I love you and Jesus loves you." One day, to her amazement, the little boy turned around and stammered, "I---I---I love you too!" Then he put his arms around her and gave her a big hug. That was 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon. At 6:30 that night he was found dead. His own mother had beaten him to death and thrown his body in the trash. "I love you and Jesus loves you." Those were some of the last words this little boy heard in his short life--from the lips of a Puerto Rican woman who could barely speak English. This woman gave her one talent to God and because of that a little boy who never heard the word "love" in his own home, experienced and responded to the love of Christ. What can you give? You and I each have something in our lives, which, if given back to God, could move Jesus and His message further down the road (\o/) (\o/) Those who are living the principle of honesty know that the Lord does bless them. Theirs is the precious right to hold their heads in the sunlight of truth, unashamed before any man. -Gordon B. Hinckley (\o/) (\o/) To all of you from me:) Making Pancakes Six-year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor. He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor, which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten. Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked! Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky. And just then, he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But, his father just watched him. Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process! That's how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour. Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him. But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right, and then they'll be glad we tried... I was thinking. . and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be said, sometimes, "I love you" can heal & bless! Remind every one of your friends that you love them. Even if you think they don't love back, you would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile, and a reminder like this can do. Just in case I haven't told you lately... I LOVE YA!! Please pass some of this love on to others....suppose one morning you were called to God; do all your friends know you love them? Thank you Judy B:) Don't we all stand in need of hugs & love sometimes, when we get ourselves into a mess? It doesn't matter our age, we all get into a mess of sorts sometimes. For sure God still loves us & for sure I love YOU all too...because you have stuck by me in all the messes I have been in over the past 6 years...good & bad ones:) Thank you! Be good to each other. Love & hugs to all from Patsy & Kay xoxoxo Remembering Rob 1-10 http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/RememberingRob.html RememberingRob10 (still in progress) http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com/RememberingRob10.html (\o/) Please take a moment & vote for Pakadevas:) http://www.top50.to/inclick.php?ID=20600 Have a blessed day! Patsy *S* ---Important-Disclaimer at the bottom of this page--- Please Read. http://www.pakadevasfreebees.com This e-news-letter uses third party *ads & *links & *swaps with other -web-sites, if you no longer wish to stay with us, please follow to 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 448, Thessalon Ontario, Canada P0R1L0 *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??`* /__/ _/\_ ____/\ ```)??(?????? | | | | | | | || |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, go here: |
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November14, 2005 - [Pakadevas Honey, you're a natural:)] >> |
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