Consumed by my loss,I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend –my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense;I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive,Mother clapped loudest at my school plays,held box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak,comforted me at my father’s death,encouraged me in college,and prayed for me my entire life. When mother’s illness was diagnosed,my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart,so it fell on me,the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements,to take care of her. I counted it an honor. ‘What now,Lord?’ I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder,his arms around her as she cradled their child… All so deeply grieving,no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother,preparing her meals,helping her walk,taking her to the doctor,seeing to her medication,reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished,and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor….
An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. ‘I’m late,’he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies,he leaned over and commented,‘Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of ‘ Margaret?” ’Because,that was her name,Margaret. Never Mary,no one called her ‘Mary,”I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?
‘No,that isn’t correct,’he insisted,as several people glanced over at us whispering,‘Her name is Mary,Mary Peters.’ ’That isn’t who this is.’ ’Isn’t this the Lutheran church?’ ’No,the Lutheran church is across the street.’ ’Oh.’ ’I believe you’re at the wrong funeral,Sir.’ The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face,hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered,misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing; too,as he glanced around,deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing. At the final ‘Amen,’we darted out a door and into the parking lot. ‘I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,’ he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt’s funeral,asked me out for a cup of coffee.
That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral,but was in the right place. A year after our meeting,we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church,right on time…
In my time of sorrow,God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness,God gave me love. This past June,we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met,Rick tells them,‘Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us,and it’s truly a match made in heaven.’
Author:unknown
“God doesn’t make mistakes. He puts us where we are to be.”
Our Scoutmaster told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and got worried. We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily,none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.
Oh yes,please call Adam’s mother and tell her he is okay. He can’t write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue Jeeps. It was great. We never would have found Adam in the dark if it hadn’t been for the Lightning.
Scoutmaster Lou got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him,but it was during the fire so he probably didn’t hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire,the gas will Blow up? The wet wood didn’t burn,but one of the tents did and also some of our clothes. Matthew is going to look weird until his hair grows back.
We will be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Lou gets the bus fixed. It wasn’t his fault about the crash. The brakes worked okay when we left. Scoutmaster Lou said that with a bus that old,you have to expect something to break down;that’s probably why he can’t get insurance.
We think it’s a super bus. He doesn’t care if we get it dirty,and if it’s Hot,sometimes he lets us ride on the bumpers. It gets pretty hot with 45 people in a bus made for 24. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the policeman stopped and talked to us.
Scoutmaster Lou is a neat guy. Don’t worry,he is a good driver. In fact,he is teaching Horace how to drive on the mountain roads where there aren’t any cops. All we ever see up there are huge logging trucks.
This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out to the rapids. Scoutmaster Lou wouldn’t let me because I can’t swim,and Adam was afraid he would sink because of his cast (it’s concrete because we didn’t have any plaster),so he let us take the canoe out. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood.
Scoutmaster Lou isn’t crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn’t even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the bus,so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.
Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Andrew dived into the lake and cut his arm,we all got to see how a tourniquet works. Steve and I threw up,but Scoutmaster Lou said it was probably just food poisoning from the left-over chicken. He said they got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I’m so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way,what is a pedal-file?
I have to go now. We are going to town to post our letters and buy some more beer and ammo. Don’t worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it’s my turn to sleep in the Scoutmaster’s tent.
From the U.S. Venison Council Controversy has long raged about the relative quality and taste of venison and beef as gourmet foods. Some people say venison is tough,with a strong “wild”taste,others insist venison’s flavor is delicate. An independent food research group was retained by the Venison Council to conduct a taste test to determine the truth of these conflicting assertions once and for all.
First,a Grade A Choice Holstein steer was chased into a swamp a mile and a half from a road and shot several times. After some of the entrails were removed,the carcass was dragged back over rocks and logs and through mud and dust to the road. It was then thrown into the back of a pickup truck and driven through rain and snow for 100 miles before being hung out in the sun for a day.
It was then lugged into a garage where it was skinned and rolled around on the floor for a while. Strict sanitary precautions were observed throughout the test,within the limitations of the butchering environment. For instance,dogs and cats were allowed to sniff and lick the steer carcass,but most of the time they were chased away when they attempted to bite chunks out of it.
Next,a sheet of plywood left from last year’s butchering was set up in the basement on two saw horses. The pieces of dried blood,hair and fat left from last year were scraped off with a wire brush last used to clean out the grass stuck under the lawn mower.
The skinned carcass was then dragged down the steps into the basement where a half dozen inexperienced but enthusiastic and intoxicated men worked on it with meat saws,cleavers,hammers and dull knives. The result was 375 pounds of soup bones,four bushel baskets of meat scraps,and a couple of steaks that were an eighth of an inch thick on one edge and an inch and a half thick on the other edge.
The steaks were seared on a glowing red hot cast iron skillet to lock in the flavor. When the smoke cleared,rancid bacon grease was added,along with three pounds of onions,and the whole conglomeration was fried for two hours.
The meat was gently teased from the frying pan and served to three intoxicated and blindfolded taste panel volunteers. Every member of the panel thought it was venison. One volunteer even said it tasted exactly like the venison he has eaten in hunting camps for the past 27 years.
The results of this scientific test conclusively show that there is no difference between the taste of beef and venison…
A special Christmas question. Song by Becky Kelley
About the Song:
While at the mall a couple of years ago,my then four year old nephew,Spencer,saw kids lined up to see Santa Claus. Having been taught as a toddler that Christmas is the holiday that Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus,he asked his mom,“where’s the line to see Jesus”? My sister mentioned this to my dad,who immediately became inspired and jotted words down to a song in just a few minutes. After putting music to the words,and doing a quick recording at home,he received a great response from friends. He sent the song off to Nashville without much response,except for a Christian songwriter who suggested adding a bridge at the end of the first chorus. My dad then asked if I wanted to record the song to see what we could do with it. I listened to the song,made a few changes to the words to make it flow better,and we headed to Shock City Studios.
It was at the studio where Chris,owner and producer,rewrote the 2nd verse and part of the chorus…with goosebumps and emotions high,we were all hopeful and felt like we had something special. The demo was recorded in just under 2 hours and sent off again to Nashville …still no response. Then 2 weeks before Christmas last year,my cousins Greg and Robbie decided to do a video to see what we could accomplish on YouTube. The first day we had 3000 hits and it soared from there. We received e-mails,phone calls,Facebook messages from people all over asking for the music,CD’s,iTunes,anything…we had nothin’. After a couple of meetings with Chris following the amazing response,we got serious. We headed back into the studio this past spring…this time with guitars,drums,bass,pianos,choirs…the real deal….. and here we are today —getting iTunes set up,a website put together,and loving that thousands upon thousands of Christians have come together…. remembering the true meaning of Christmas.
Out of the mouths of babes come profound truths that many adults cannot understand. Hopefully Spencer’s observation will cause people all over to reflect on the love of Jesus,and to realize that one day we will all stand in line to see Him. We are most thankful to our Heavenly Father to have this chance to share our music with you. Merry Christmas everyone.
For more information see:http://wheresthelinetoseejesus.com/
This cartoon appears to be just as appropriate today as it was when it was initially published in the Chicago Tribune back in 1934. Only then names have changed. Look very closely at the plan of action listed at the lower left of the cartoon.
Viewers may better understand this clip if you knew the original poem upon which this is based –“Casey at the Bat”by Ernest Thayer –often considered one of baseball’s greatest writings.
When You’re Holding a Hammer
When You’re Holding a Hammer (Everything Looks Like a Nail). Popular new hit political song.