[video=youtube_share;VVojK1S4A48]http://youtu.be/VVojK1S4A48[/video]
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- Thread starter beensetfree
- Start date
[video=youtube_share;2jWAPyxnFfE]http://youtu.be/2jWAPyxnFfE[/video]
When I look into your holiness
The full song.
The full song.
A teacher observed that one of the little boys in her class was pensive and withdrawn.
"What are you worried about?" she asked.
"My parents." he replied. "Dad works all days to keep me clothed and fed and sent me to the best school in town.
And he's working overtime to be able to send me to college. Mom spends all day cooking and cleaning and
ironing and shopping so I have nothing to worry about."
"Why, then, are you worried?"
"I'm afraid they might try to escape."
"What are you worried about?" she asked.
"My parents." he replied. "Dad works all days to keep me clothed and fed and sent me to the best school in town.
And he's working overtime to be able to send me to college. Mom spends all day cooking and cleaning and
ironing and shopping so I have nothing to worry about."
"Why, then, are you worried?"
"I'm afraid they might try to escape."
[video=youtube_share;qCLBU0iOK0g]http://youtu.be/qCLBU0iOK0g[/video]
God helps those who help themselves, so do your daily exercises to maintain your health - - - -
Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room on each side.
With a 5-lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute and then relax.
Each day you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags.
Then move up to 50-lb potato bags and eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute. (I'm at this level.)
After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.
Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room on each side.
With a 5-lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute and then relax.
Each day you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags.
Then move up to 50-lb potato bags and eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute. (I'm at this level.)
After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.
Every single evening
As I'm lying here in bed,
This tiny little Prayer
Keeps running through my head:
God bless all my family
Wherever they may be,
Keep them warm
And safe from harm
For they're so close to me..
And God, there is one more thing
I wish that you could do;
Hope you don't mind me asking,
Please bless my computer too.
Now I know that it's unusual
To Bless a motherboard,
But listen just a second
While I explain it to you, Lord.
You see, that little metal box
Holds more than odds and ends;
Inside those small compartments
Rest so many of my friends.
I know so much about them
By the kindness that they give,
And this little scrap of metal
Takes me in to where they live.
By faith is how I know them
Much the same as you.
We share in what life brings us
And from that our friendships grew..
Please take an extra minute
From your duties up above,
To bless those in my address book
That's filled with so much love.
Wherever else this prayer may reach
To each and every friend,
Bless each e-mail inbox
And each person who hits 'send'.
When you update your Heavenly list
On your own Great CD-ROM,
Bless everyone who says this prayer
Sent up to GOD.Com
Amen
As I'm lying here in bed,
This tiny little Prayer
Keeps running through my head:
God bless all my family
Wherever they may be,
Keep them warm
And safe from harm
For they're so close to me..
And God, there is one more thing
I wish that you could do;
Hope you don't mind me asking,
Please bless my computer too.
Now I know that it's unusual
To Bless a motherboard,
But listen just a second
While I explain it to you, Lord.
You see, that little metal box
Holds more than odds and ends;
Inside those small compartments
Rest so many of my friends.
I know so much about them
By the kindness that they give,
And this little scrap of metal
Takes me in to where they live.
By faith is how I know them
Much the same as you.
We share in what life brings us
And from that our friendships grew..
Please take an extra minute
From your duties up above,
To bless those in my address book
That's filled with so much love.
Wherever else this prayer may reach
To each and every friend,
Bless each e-mail inbox
And each person who hits 'send'.
When you update your Heavenly list
On your own Great CD-ROM,
Bless everyone who says this prayer
Sent up to GOD.Com
Amen
erection2015
Alfrescian (InfP) + C
walk with me .....seekers
The Goldfish Bowl
Come with me to a third grade classroom...
There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a
sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his
pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he
cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never
happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he
will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll
never speak to him again as long as he lives. The boy believes
his heart is going to stop, he puts his head down and prays --
"Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes
from now I'm dead meat."
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a
look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.
As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is
carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips
in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water
in the boy's lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to
himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"
Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule,
the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him
downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants
dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees
cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as
life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has
been transferred to someone else - Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. "You've done
enough, you klutz!" Finally, at the end of the day, as they are
waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers,
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants before too ''
Come with me to a third grade classroom...
There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a
sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his
pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he
cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It's never
happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he
will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they'll
never speak to him again as long as he lives. The boy believes
his heart is going to stop, he puts his head down and prays --
"Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes
from now I'm dead meat."
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a
look in her eyes that says he has been discovered.
As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is
carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips
in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water
in the boy's lap.
The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to
himself, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!"
Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule,
the boy is the object of sympathy. The teacher rushes him
downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants
dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees
cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as
life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has
been transferred to someone else - Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. "You've done
enough, you klutz!" Finally, at the end of the day, as they are
waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers,
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Susie whispers back, "I wet my pants before too ''
[video=youtube_share;F0M0NALW7EM]http://youtu.be/F0M0NALW7EM[/video]
One Call
If you were going to die soon
and had only one phone call you could make,
who would you call and what would you say?
And why are you waiting?
~Stephen Levine~
Make it a special New Year for yourself and your loved ones.
If you were going to die soon
and had only one phone call you could make,
who would you call and what would you say?
And why are you waiting?
~Stephen Levine~
Make it a special New Year for yourself and your loved ones.
Eyes From Above
================
I walked into the store as I had done countless times before.
There was nothing unusual about the night, just a routine stroll
down the aisles of commerce. My five and two-year-old sons were
with me.
It was a huge store. You would know the name of the chain,
but the name doesn't matter.
Bright lights, wide aisles, and full shelves made for an awesome
store. My sons naturally were interested in the toy section,
so there we strolled.
The modern stores don't have many helpers like the old days.
I used to work in a drug store. My job was to price
merchandise, stock the shelves, sweep the floor, ring the cash
register, and watch customers.
I didn't watch customers for fun. Customers would steal in the
old days. My job included helping customers find what they
wanted but keeping a watchful eye to make sure they paid for
what they found.
Those old days came to mind as I wandered or rather was towed by
anxious kids down the huge aisles.
How in the world do they keep people from stealing them blind?
There were no clerks or assistants watching us. What was to
prevent us from pocketing any number of tempting items?
I looked around, not for the purpose of stealing anything, but
of scientific curiosity.
How did they keep people from stealing?
I knew the nature of people had not improved since I was a
clerk. People stole then and they steal now.
This was an extremely successful chain. Surely they couldn't be
this trusting. Surely they couldn't be this benevolent that
they would simply allow people to have whatever they felt like
not paying for.
Surely not.
I am a scientist. I think. I analyze. I wonder. I seek
answers. I am a businessman. No people watching, plenty of
merchandise, a certain percentage of people who would take
advantage of inattention, successful chain stores, it didn't
fit. How could they trust so?
They didn't. That much I knew. I know the commercial mind.
They couldn't and didn't trust people that much.
So why was no one watching?
I knew that couldn't be either.
Maybe they were watching.
If so, then how were they watching?
I knew if they were watching it would have to be though video
cameras. I knew where they would need to be positioned.
I looked up.
Whoa!
As many times as I had been in that store and similar stores of
the chain, I had never thought to look up. I walked beneath
totally unaware and unconcerned about the eyes above.
As I looked up, I saw rows and rows of surveillance cameras.
Somewhere between 100 and 200 cameras looked down as I surveyed
the roof of the huge store.
If you didn't know already, you wouldn't know they were cameras
but I knew. Surveillance cameras are usually mounted behind
blue colored domes. You can't see in, but the camera can see
out. It can point in any direction, and you don't know if and
where it is looking.
It can swivel, tilt, pan, and zoom. They can follow your every
move. They can zoom out to view the whole aisle or zoom in on a
pimple. Hundreds of them, and I never knew or guessed because I
never thought about it.
Eyes from above that watched every move of those below.
So many walk without realizing every move is observed and
recorded.
Eyes from above.
I walked differently once I saw the cameras. I had no intention
of ever doing anything wrong, with or without cameras; I just
walked differently knowing that someone could be watching every
single move that I made.
It shouldn't have made a difference.
But it did.
We often go through life as if no one sees.
As if no eyes from above are watching.
Suppose we realized that?
Every frown, every harsh word, every wrong deed, every good or
bad twitch of our minds and muscles...
Recorded.
Eyes from above.
Encased in a blue canopy.
It makes you walk differently once you realize that.
It really does.
================
I walked into the store as I had done countless times before.
There was nothing unusual about the night, just a routine stroll
down the aisles of commerce. My five and two-year-old sons were
with me.
It was a huge store. You would know the name of the chain,
but the name doesn't matter.
Bright lights, wide aisles, and full shelves made for an awesome
store. My sons naturally were interested in the toy section,
so there we strolled.
The modern stores don't have many helpers like the old days.
I used to work in a drug store. My job was to price
merchandise, stock the shelves, sweep the floor, ring the cash
register, and watch customers.
I didn't watch customers for fun. Customers would steal in the
old days. My job included helping customers find what they
wanted but keeping a watchful eye to make sure they paid for
what they found.
Those old days came to mind as I wandered or rather was towed by
anxious kids down the huge aisles.
How in the world do they keep people from stealing them blind?
There were no clerks or assistants watching us. What was to
prevent us from pocketing any number of tempting items?
I looked around, not for the purpose of stealing anything, but
of scientific curiosity.
How did they keep people from stealing?
I knew the nature of people had not improved since I was a
clerk. People stole then and they steal now.
This was an extremely successful chain. Surely they couldn't be
this trusting. Surely they couldn't be this benevolent that
they would simply allow people to have whatever they felt like
not paying for.
Surely not.
I am a scientist. I think. I analyze. I wonder. I seek
answers. I am a businessman. No people watching, plenty of
merchandise, a certain percentage of people who would take
advantage of inattention, successful chain stores, it didn't
fit. How could they trust so?
They didn't. That much I knew. I know the commercial mind.
They couldn't and didn't trust people that much.
So why was no one watching?
I knew that couldn't be either.
Maybe they were watching.
If so, then how were they watching?
I knew if they were watching it would have to be though video
cameras. I knew where they would need to be positioned.
I looked up.
Whoa!
As many times as I had been in that store and similar stores of
the chain, I had never thought to look up. I walked beneath
totally unaware and unconcerned about the eyes above.
As I looked up, I saw rows and rows of surveillance cameras.
Somewhere between 100 and 200 cameras looked down as I surveyed
the roof of the huge store.
If you didn't know already, you wouldn't know they were cameras
but I knew. Surveillance cameras are usually mounted behind
blue colored domes. You can't see in, but the camera can see
out. It can point in any direction, and you don't know if and
where it is looking.
It can swivel, tilt, pan, and zoom. They can follow your every
move. They can zoom out to view the whole aisle or zoom in on a
pimple. Hundreds of them, and I never knew or guessed because I
never thought about it.
Eyes from above that watched every move of those below.
So many walk without realizing every move is observed and
recorded.
Eyes from above.
I walked differently once I saw the cameras. I had no intention
of ever doing anything wrong, with or without cameras; I just
walked differently knowing that someone could be watching every
single move that I made.
It shouldn't have made a difference.
But it did.
We often go through life as if no one sees.
As if no eyes from above are watching.
Suppose we realized that?
Every frown, every harsh word, every wrong deed, every good or
bad twitch of our minds and muscles...
Recorded.
Eyes from above.
Encased in a blue canopy.
It makes you walk differently once you realize that.
It really does.
[video=youtube_share;9kuFuuFxzd4]http://youtu.be/9kuFuuFxzd4[/video]
[video=youtube_share;4cqWbCgginQ]http://youtu.be/4cqWbCgginQ[/video]
"The day was innocent. Had a little swing to it, even.
Days like that are fun to be in. I was walking over to the grocery
store, wearing my favorite jacket (which by now is severely
shape-challenged), carrying a tote bag over one arm. I recall that
the sun was winking.
Suddenly a carload of teenagers appeared out of nowhere, like
misdirected lightning, and hurled their vehicle around a corner.
I jumped. The suddenness of it threw me into an unsettled
place, and I began walking over-carefully, as though I were
sidestepping broken glass. By the time I arrived at the store I was
in a fret. My mind was chattering - always a bad sign.
So I needed to recenter. There was a friendly little
delicatessen planted right next to the grocery; I went inside the
deli. Immediately I was engulfed in that delicious aroma common to
all delis everywhere: spiced meats, cheeses, garlic, tomato sauce,
creative pastas. You know: food cooked the way you wish mom had
cooked it.
There was a huge, eclectic beverage freezer in back; I pulled
out a mainstream soda and took it over to a table. Sat down, drank
some soda, inhaled the glorious essence of deli. For a while I just
sat there with closed eyes, remembering how I felt when the day
began, and how the sun had waved hello to everyone.
After I while, my mind got quieter. I thought about how much
fun it is to be a teenager, full of vim and vitamins and ready to
attempt spirited speeds in your car.
A moment or two later, I began to see they meant no harm, that
carful of youngsters; they were simply trying out one of the
planet's toys with sixteen year old abandon. Their energy scared a
few of us; it hurt no one.
As I thought about the way minds work when they are in teen
mode, and recalled the years I had worn that very same mindset, I
began to relax even more. Not long after, I even managed to start
chuckling over the entire incident.
The deli owner saw me smile and asked me why. I told him the
soda had turned out to be especially nourishing, and then inquired
if he had some fresh sliced turkey. He did. I bought it. It was
lovely.
On the way home, no car swooshed by me at a dizzying pace, but
if it had I would have been ready. I would have stepped back,
paused, and tossed a pound of Peace after it.
Fair's fair."
There truly is a blessing contained in every moment. Whether it
reveals itself as a lesson or an insight or a precious memory
rekindled, it is a blessing, still. But sometimes, as Ms. Bailey's
story suggests, we first must pause and quiet the world around us
before the blessing can be found.
Days like that are fun to be in. I was walking over to the grocery
store, wearing my favorite jacket (which by now is severely
shape-challenged), carrying a tote bag over one arm. I recall that
the sun was winking.
Suddenly a carload of teenagers appeared out of nowhere, like
misdirected lightning, and hurled their vehicle around a corner.
I jumped. The suddenness of it threw me into an unsettled
place, and I began walking over-carefully, as though I were
sidestepping broken glass. By the time I arrived at the store I was
in a fret. My mind was chattering - always a bad sign.
So I needed to recenter. There was a friendly little
delicatessen planted right next to the grocery; I went inside the
deli. Immediately I was engulfed in that delicious aroma common to
all delis everywhere: spiced meats, cheeses, garlic, tomato sauce,
creative pastas. You know: food cooked the way you wish mom had
cooked it.
There was a huge, eclectic beverage freezer in back; I pulled
out a mainstream soda and took it over to a table. Sat down, drank
some soda, inhaled the glorious essence of deli. For a while I just
sat there with closed eyes, remembering how I felt when the day
began, and how the sun had waved hello to everyone.
After I while, my mind got quieter. I thought about how much
fun it is to be a teenager, full of vim and vitamins and ready to
attempt spirited speeds in your car.
A moment or two later, I began to see they meant no harm, that
carful of youngsters; they were simply trying out one of the
planet's toys with sixteen year old abandon. Their energy scared a
few of us; it hurt no one.
As I thought about the way minds work when they are in teen
mode, and recalled the years I had worn that very same mindset, I
began to relax even more. Not long after, I even managed to start
chuckling over the entire incident.
The deli owner saw me smile and asked me why. I told him the
soda had turned out to be especially nourishing, and then inquired
if he had some fresh sliced turkey. He did. I bought it. It was
lovely.
On the way home, no car swooshed by me at a dizzying pace, but
if it had I would have been ready. I would have stepped back,
paused, and tossed a pound of Peace after it.
Fair's fair."
There truly is a blessing contained in every moment. Whether it
reveals itself as a lesson or an insight or a precious memory
rekindled, it is a blessing, still. But sometimes, as Ms. Bailey's
story suggests, we first must pause and quiet the world around us
before the blessing can be found.
[video=youtube_share;AjddC0VIHHQ]http://youtu.be/AjddC0VIHHQ[/video]
INFORMATION PLEASE
When I was very young, my father had one of the first telephones
in our neighborhood.
I remember well, the polished old case fastened to the wall and
the shiny receiver on the side of the box. I was too little to
reach the telephone but used to listen with fascination when my
mother would talk to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device
lived an amazing person and her name was "Information Please"
and there was nothing she did not know.
"Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the
correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-a-bottle came
one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.
Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my
finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible but there didn't
seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to
give me sympathy.
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally
arriving at the stairway. The telephone!
Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and held it to my
ear.
"Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my
head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone. The tears came
readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with a hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could.
"Then chip off a piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said
the voice.
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything.
I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where
Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me that
my pet chipmunk, which I had caught in the park just the day
before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called
"Information Please" and told her the sad story.
She listened, then said the usual thing grown ups say to soothe
a child. But, I was inconsolable.
I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully
and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of
feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly,
"You must remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow, I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."
"Information," said the now familiar voice.
"How do you spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.
When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to
Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please"
belonged in that old wooden box back home and somehow I never
thought of trying the tall, new shiny phone that sat on the
table in the hall.
As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood
conversations never really left me. Often in moments of doubt
and perplexity, I would recall the serene sense of security I
had then.
I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was
to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down
in Seattle. I had about half-an-hour or so between planes.
I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister who lived
there now.
Then, without thinking about what I was doing, I dialed my
hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying,
"Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause.
Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must be
healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you
have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to
me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your
calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and
asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my
sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later, I was back in Seattle.
A different voice answered,
"Information." I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said.
"Sally had been working part time in the last few years because
she was sick.
She died five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Are you Paul?"
"Yes."
"Well, Sally left a message for you.
She wrote it down in case you called when she was too sick to
work.
Let me read it to you." The note said,
"Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you make on others.
When I was very young, my father had one of the first telephones
in our neighborhood.
I remember well, the polished old case fastened to the wall and
the shiny receiver on the side of the box. I was too little to
reach the telephone but used to listen with fascination when my
mother would talk to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device
lived an amazing person and her name was "Information Please"
and there was nothing she did not know.
"Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the
correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-a-bottle came
one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.
Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my
finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible but there didn't
seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to
give me sympathy.
I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally
arriving at the stairway. The telephone!
Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and held it to my
ear.
"Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my
head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone. The tears came
readily enough now that I had an audience.
"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.
"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.
"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with a hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could.
"Then chip off a piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said
the voice.
After that, I called "Information Please" for everything.
I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where
Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me that
my pet chipmunk, which I had caught in the park just the day
before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called
"Information Please" and told her the sad story.
She listened, then said the usual thing grown ups say to soothe
a child. But, I was inconsolable.
I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully
and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of
feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly,
"You must remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow, I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."
"Information," said the now familiar voice.
"How do you spell fix?" I asked.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.
When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to
Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please"
belonged in that old wooden box back home and somehow I never
thought of trying the tall, new shiny phone that sat on the
table in the hall.
As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood
conversations never really left me. Often in moments of doubt
and perplexity, I would recall the serene sense of security I
had then.
I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was
to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down
in Seattle. I had about half-an-hour or so between planes.
I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister who lived
there now.
Then, without thinking about what I was doing, I dialed my
hometown operator and said, "Information Please."
Miraculously, I heard the small clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."
I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying,
"Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"
There was a long pause.
Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must be
healed by now."
I laughed, "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you
have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"
"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to
me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your
calls."
I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and
asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my
sister.
"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later, I was back in Seattle.
A different voice answered,
"Information." I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said.
"Sally had been working part time in the last few years because
she was sick.
She died five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Are you Paul?"
"Yes."
"Well, Sally left a message for you.
She wrote it down in case you called when she was too sick to
work.
Let me read it to you." The note said,
"Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."
I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you make on others.
[video=youtube_share;Bc1trkrAnTw]http://youtu.be/Bc1trkrAnTw[/video]
Deuteronomy 21:11-13
New International Version (NIV)
11 if you notice among the captives a beautiful woman and are attracted to her, you may take her as your wife. 12 Bring her into your home and have her shave her head, trim her nails 13 and put aside the clothes she was wearing when captured. After she has lived in your house and mourned her father and mother for a full month, then you may go to her and be her husband and she shall be your wife.
New International Version (NIV)
11 if you notice among the captives a beautiful woman and are attracted to her, you may take her as your wife. 12 Bring her into your home and have her shave her head, trim her nails 13 and put aside the clothes she was wearing when captured. After she has lived in your house and mourned her father and mother for a full month, then you may go to her and be her husband and she shall be your wife.
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