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Subject: [Pakadevas Sunday Inspirationals] - May22, 2006



((Welcome everyone)) to our Sunday 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...Patsy xoxoxo


This is the place. We have a *freethings*, 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 from our *site, or others we advertise with, *news-, -search -engines etc.

Enjoy your stay:)
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Beautiful notes from you:)

Re:Somebody's Mother

Dear Patsy
I enjoy your column very much and sometime I would send poems that is on your web site to my friends.  Today I saw a poem I learnt as a child "Somebody's Mother" from the English Royal Reader Book.  As a child growing up in The Bahamas almost  every child had one of these books in their homes, they had the most beautiful poems and stories.  It  also reminded me of a wonderful, patient teacher Mrs. Katrina Cartwright who would  make us memorize these poems.  To the person who sent it to you I say THANK YOU for bringing back memories of my childhood and a beautiful  poem that  I learnt more than fifty years ago and
the young teacher who taught it to me.
B. Clarke
*
*
RE: [Pakadevas~Sunday Inspirational]

Hi Patsy
I hope that you are doing well.  It has been a long long time since I
have written to you.  I wanted to reply so as to get you into my address book as I had a computer crash due to some problem that our electric company had on a pole at the top of our street and I was pushing the send button at the same time as the problem but they won't own up to it being their mistake so I had to pay for a new computer myself and it wasn't even my problem!!  Oh well, that happens in life. What to do?  I don't know so I just keep on keeping on!  Have a great day and thanks for the great newsletter.  I hope that you send me the daily one too!!  God bless
Love
Mary
USA West Virginia
*
*
Thank you for printing my prayer. I am touched. I write for the fun of it and for friends. I just felt the words comming to me and wrote it before the surgury. It was a good surgury and I have the use of my arm back. They operated on the ulnar nerve this time. Last time was in 92, when I broke, fractured it in 2 places and wrapped the major nerve around he bone in my arm from a freak fall. I am very blessed and lucky. The Angels where watching over me that day. I seem to need more than one from time to time. They usually come in twos. I had a bad car accident in 98 and the car went off the road and flipped 3 times
sideways. Will never forget it. We (my daughter and grandaughter) got out of the car and there they where, two men, to help guide us to the road. I have had damage to my left arm, 3 times and have had to work to get the use of my left arm back, but the last time was the fastest and least painful. I have been truely blessed.
*
*



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(\o/)
God can do it!
http://www.dobhran.com/greetings/GRinspire342-ea.htm

Thank you DoniB:)
(\o/)



(\o/)
THE ROOM
by Brian Moore

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was, what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.

Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework. Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.

It makes such an impact that people want to share it. "You feel like you are there," Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moore's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him.

Here is Brian's essay entitled "The Room."

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at."

Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents Often there were many more cards than expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.

Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.

One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out.  Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response.  And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.  Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
Philippians. 4:13

"For God so loved the! world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."  
John 3:16

Thank you Jo T:)
(\o/)



(\o/)
Communication with God
http://www.funpages.com/conversation/

Thank you Elaine & Arnie:)
(\o/)



(\o/)
This Is What Love Is All About

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 am, when an elderly gentleman
in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated
that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.

On exam it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the
needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation I
asked him if he had a doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in
such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the
nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.

I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer Disease. As we talked, and I finished dressing his wound, I asked if she would be worried if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him. "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" He smiled as he patted my hand and said.

"She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and
thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance
of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

"The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything;
they just make the best of everything that comes along their way."

Thank you Louise H:)
(\o/)



(\o/)
Amazing Grace
http://www.mamarocks.com/amazing_grace.htm
(\o/)


(\o/)
What if?

What if God decided to stop leading us tomorrow because we didn't follow Him today?

What if God couldn't take the time to bless us today because we couldn't take the time to thank Him yesterday?

What if we never saw another flower bloom because we grumbled when God
sent the Rain?

What if God didn't walk with us today because we failed to recognize it
as His day?

What if, God took away the Bible tomorrow because we would not read it
today?

What if, God took away His message because we failed to listen to the
messenger?    

What if, God didn't send His only begotten Son because He wanted us to
be prepared to pay the price for sin?

What if, the door of the church was closed because we did not open the
door of our heart?

What if, God stopped loving and caring for us because we failed to love
and care for others?

What if, God would not hear us today because we would not listen to Him?

What if, God answered our ! prayers the way we answer His call to service?

What if, God met our needs the way we give Him our lives???

Thank you Jo T:)
(\o/)



(\o/)
"God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs."
-Spencer W. Kimball
(\o/)



(\o/)
God Knows

When you are tired and discouraged
from fruitless effort,
GOD knows how hard you have tried.

When you've cried so long your
heart is in anguish,
GOD has counted your tears.

If you feel that your life is on hold
and time has passed you by,
GOD is waiting for you.

When nothing makes sense and you
are confused or frustrated,
GOD has the answer.

If suddenly your outlook is brighter
and you find traces of hope,
GOD has whispered to you.

When things are going well and you
have much to be thankful for,
GOD has blessed you.

When something joyful happens
and you are filled with awe,
GOD has smiled upon you.
Remember that wherever you are or
whatever you are feeling,
GOD knows!

Thank you Elaine:)
(\o/)




(\o/)
To all of you from me:)

Those Who Mean the Most to Us

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the
most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and
touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Thank you Kay:)


Kay has been this for me many times...& I for her.
Then there's all of you, who have been this for both of us during our difficult times. Thank you for that.

Our 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/)
 
 
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Have a blessed day!
Patsy *S*
 
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Pakadevas-Freebees
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Ontario, Canada P0R1L0
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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."



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