Community Chat

[gloriajean]

Thoughts of the past can not hurt you without your consent. Lord,
help me to learn from my past, not live there by continually bringing
it into the present.

Scripture for the day:

"In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the
earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep,
while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God
said, "Let there be light"; and there was light." ~Genesis 1:1-3

Meditation for the day:

God made the ordered world out of chaos and set the stars in their
courses and made each plant to know its season.. God can bring peace
and order out of our own private chaos if we let God. God is
watching over us, too, to bless us and care for us. Out of the darkness,
God
is leading us to light, out of unrest to rest, out of disorder to
order, out of faults and failure to success. We belong to God and
our affairs are God's affairs and can be ordered by God if we are
willing.

Prayer for the day:

I pray that I may be led out of disorder into order. I pray that I
may be led out of failure into success.

ROSE
Author Unknown

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and
challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood
up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.

I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me
with a smile that lit up her entire being. She said, "Hi handsome. My
name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?"

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, "Of course you may!" and she
gave me a giant squeeze." Why are you in college at such a young,
innocent age?" I asked.

She jokingly replied, "I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married,
have a couple of children, and then retire and travel."

"No seriously," I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to
be taking on this challenge at her age. "I always dreamed of having a
college education and now I'm getting one!" she told me. After class
we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate
milkshake. We became instant friends.

Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and
talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this "time machine"
as she shared her wisdom and experience with me. Over the course of
the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends
wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the
attention bestowed upon her from
the other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football
banquet. I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and
stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech,
she dropped her three by five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a
little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said "I'm
sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is
killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell
you what I know."

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began: "We do not stop
playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There
are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving
success.

"You have to laugh and find humor every day."

"You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We
have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know
it!"

"There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If
you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't
do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am
eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do
anything I will turn eighty-eight. Anybody can grow older. That
doesn't take any talent or ability.

The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity in change."

"Have no regrets. The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we
did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear
death are those with regrets."

She concluded her speech by courageously singing "The Rose." She
challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our
daily lives.

At the years end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all
those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her
sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in
tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never
too late to be all you can possibly be.

A lesson of life:

Read the following and have a GREAT day!

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a
small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily
apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green
peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.

Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr.
Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

'Hello Barry, how are you today?'

'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look
good.'

'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'

'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'

'Good. Anything I can help you with?'

'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' th em peas.'

'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'

'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.

'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'

'I can see that. Hmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for
red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.

'Not zackley but almost.'

'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way
let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy..

'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community,
all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with
them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.

When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides
he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce
for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to
the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time
later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the
boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently
I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I
was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation
that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany
them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives
of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the
other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very
professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and
smiling by her husband's casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly
with her and moved on to the casket Her misty light blue eyes followed them
as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand
over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly,
wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of
the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her
husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand
and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.

They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at
last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size. They came to
pay their debt.'

'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided,
'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.'

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased
husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.
Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take
our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you
didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green
stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store. A
good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys found right where you left
them.

SCARS
Author Unknown

Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy
decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.

In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door,
leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the
water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an
alligator was swimming toward the shore.

His mother, in the house was looking out the window, saw the two as
they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the
water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could. Hearing her voice,
the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother.

It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him.
From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as
the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war
between the two.

The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was
much too passionate to let go.

A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, raced from his
truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy
survived.

His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal.
And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails
dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked
if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And
then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my
arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my mom
wouldn't let go."

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No,
not from an alligator, or anything quite so dramatic. But, the scars
of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused
us deep regret.

But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go.

In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you. The
Scripture teaches that God loves you. If you have Christ in your life,
you have become a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide
for you in every way.

But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations. The
swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the
enemy is waiting to attack. That's when the tug-o-war begins, and if
you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful.

He did not - and will not - let you go. Time is a very precious gift
of God; so precious that it's only given to us moment by moment.

Here's a healing prayer for all who needs healing:

PHYSICAL HEALING PRAYER

" Jesus, you are the wounded healer, heal our friends through your wounds.
You are the God, the Ultimate, who alone can heal them. You are our Divine
medicine. O! Lord! Just say one word, and they shall be healed. Jesus,
forgive all our sins and iniquities through your bloodshed. Have mercy on
all our ancestors. O! Jesus! Send your Holy Spirit upon us all and liberate
us from all bondage. Jesus, our only Savior, deliver us from all our sins
and sickness. Mother Mary, mother of good health, we cry out to you for your
prayers for the mercy of your Son to heal these people right now! Thank you
Mother Mary, Thank you Jesus, Thank you Abba Father, and Thank you Holy
Spirit. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"