Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
Happy Birthday Grandpa !!
Tear Drops Poem
They say memories are golden,
Well, maybe that is true;
I never wanted memories,
I only wanted you.
A million times I needed you,
A million times I cried;
If love alone could have saved you,
You never would have died.
In life I loved you dearly,
In death I love you still;
In my heart you hold a piece
No one could ever fill.
But now I know you want me
To mourn for you no more,
To remember the happy times
Life still has much in store.
Since you'll never be forgotten
I pledge to you today;
A hallowed place within my heart
Is where you'll always stay.
If tears could build a stairway
And heartache make a lane;
I'd walk the path to heaven
And bring you back again.
Our family chain is broken,
and nothing seems the same;
But as God calls us one by one,
The chain will link again.
If you cross the border
IF YOU CROSS THE NORTH KOREAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET 12 YEARS HARD LABOR.
IF YOU CROSS THE IRANIAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU ARE DETAINED INDEFINITELY.
IF YOU CROSS THE AFGHAN BORDER ILLEGALLY, YOU GET SHOT.
IF YOU CROSS THE SAUDI ARABIAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU WILL BE JAILED.
IF YOU CROSS THE CHINESE BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU MAY NEVER BE HEARD FROM AGAIN.
IF YOU CROSS THE VENEZUELAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU WILL BE BRANDED A SPY AND YOUR FATE WILL BE SEALED.
IF YOU CROSS THE CUBAN BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU WILL BE THROWN INTO POLITICAL PRISON TO ROT.
IF YOU CROSS THE U.S. BORDER ILLEGALLY YOU GET
· A JOB,
· A DRIVERS LICENSE,
· SOCIAL SECURITY CARD,
· WELFARE,
· FOOD STAMPS,
· CREDIT CARDS,
· SUBSIDIZED RENT OR A LOAN TO BUY A HOUSE,
· FREE EDUCATION,
· FREE HEALTH CARE,
· A LOBBYIST IN WASHINGTON
· BILLIONS OF DOLLARS WORTH OF PUBLIC DOCUMENTS PRINTED IN YOUR LANGUAGE
· THE RIGHT TO CARRY YOUR COUNTRY’S FLAG WHILE YOU PROTEST THAT YOU DON’T GET ENOUGH RESPECT
· AND, IN MANY INSTANCES, YOU CAN VOTE.
·
I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE I HAD A FIRM GRASP ON THE SITUATION
PLEASE KEEP THIS GOING ....FORWARD TO ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS & FAMILY
IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP AMERICA !!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
The Marines want this to roll all over the U.S.
MARINES WANT THIS TO ROLL ALL OVER THE U.S.
This is a poem being sent from a Marine
to his Dad.
For those who take the time
to read it, you'll see a letter from him to
his dad at the bottom. It
makes you truly thankful for
not only the Marines, but
ALL of our troops.
THE
MARINE
We all came together,
Both young and old
To fight for our freedom,
To stand and be bold.
In the midst of all evil,
We stand our ground,
And we protect our country
From all terror around.
Peace and not war,
Is what some people say.
But I'll give my life,
So you can live the American way
I give you the right
To talk of your peace.
To stand in your groups,
and protest in our streets.
But still I fight on,
I don't fuss, I don't whine.
I'm just one of the people!
Who is doing your time.
I'm harder than nails,
Stronger than any machine.
I'm the immortal soldier,
I'm a U.S. MARINE!
So stand in my shoes,
And leave from your home.
Fight for the people who hate you,
With the protests they've shown.
Fight for the stranger,
Fight for the young.
So they all may have,
The greatest freedom you've won
Fight for the sick,
Fight for the poor
Fight for the cripple,
Who lives next door.
But when your time comes,
Do what I've done.
For if you stand up for freedom,
You'll stand when the fight's done
By: Corporal
Aaron M. Gilbert, US Marine Corps
USS SAIPAN , PERSIAN GULF
Hey Dad,
Do me a favor and label this 'The Marine' and send it
to everybody on your email list.. Even
leave this letter in it.
I want this rolling all over the US ;
I want every home reading it. Every eye seeing it.
And every heart to feel it. So can you please send this for me? I would but my email time isn't that long and
I don 't have much time anyway.
You know what Dad?
I wondered what it would be like to truly
understand what JFK said in His inaugural speech.'When the time comes to lay down my life for my
country, I do not cower from this responsibility. I
welcome it.'
Well, now I know. And I do. Dad, I welcome the opportunity to do what I do.
Even though I have left behind a beautiful wife, and I will miss the birth of our first born child, I would do it 70 times over to fight for the place that God has made for my home.
I love you all and I miss you very much.
I wish I could be there when Sandi has our
baby, but tell her that I love her, and Lord willing, I
will be coming home soon. Give Mom a great big hug from me and give one to yourself too.
Aaron
Please
let this marine (and all our military) know
we care by passing his poem onto your
friends even
if you don't usually take time to forward mail...do it this
time!
Thanks,
Let's
help Aaron's dad spread the word ....
FREEDOM isn't FREE
Someone pays for you and me.
God
bless you!
"IN GOD WE TRUST"
And remember the back bone of America, our Military!
And thanks for serving our Country.
Jerry
Who wrote the song " Precious Lord"?
THE BIRTH OF THE HYMN "PRECIOUS LORD"
HE WROTE:
Back in 1932, I was a fairly new husband. My wife, Nettie and I were living in a little apartment on Chicago's south side. One hot August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis where I was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. I didn't want to go; Nettie was in the last month of pregnancy with our first child, but a lot of people were expecting me in St. Louis. I kissed Nettie goodbye, clattered downstairs to our Model A and, in a fresh Lake Michigan breeze, chugged out of Chicago on Route 66.
However, outside the city, I discovered that in my anxiety at leaving, I had forgotten my music case. I wheeled around and headed back.
I found Nettie sleeping peacefully. I hesitated by her bed; something was strongly telling me to stay. But eager to get on my way, and not wanting to disturb Nettie, I shrugged off the feeling and quietly slipped out of the room with my music.
The next night, in the steaming St. Louis heat, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger boy ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: YOUR WIFE JUST DIED.
People were happily singing and clapping around me, but I could hardly keep from crying out. I rushed to a phone and called home. All I could hear on the other end was "Nettie is dead. Nettie is dead.”
When I got back, I learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. I swung between grief and joy. Yet that same night, the baby died I buried Nettie and our little boy together, in the same casket. Then I fell apart.
For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn't want to serve Him anymore or write gospel songs I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well. But then, as I hunched alone in that dark apartment those first sad days, I thought back to the afternoon I went to St. Louis . Something kept telling me to stay with Nettie. Was that something God? Oh, if I had paid more attention to Him that day, I would have stayed and been with Nettie when she died.
From that moment on I vowed to listen more closely to Him. But still I was lost in grief. Everyone was kind to me, especially one friend. The following Saturday evening he took me up to Maloney's Poro College, a neighborhood music school. It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows.
I sat down at the piano, and my hands began to browse over the keys. Something happened to me then. I felt at peace. I felt as though I could reach out and touch God. I found myself playing a melody. Once in my head they just seemed to fall into place: 'Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn, through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light, take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.'
The Lord gave me these words and melody, He also healed my spirit. I learned that when we are in our deepest grief, when we feel farthest from God, this is when He is closest, and when we are most open to His restoring power.
And so I go on living for God willingly and joyfully, until that day comes when He will take me and gently lead me home.
-Tommy Dorsey
For those too young to know who he is, Tommy Dorsey was a well-known band leader in the 1930's and 40's.
Did you know that Tommy Dorsey wrote this song? I surely didn't. What a wonderful story of how God CAN heal the brokenhearted! Beautiful, isn't it?
Worth the reading, wasn't it?
Saturday, July 3, 2010
upsetting the apple cart
A few years ago a group of salesmen went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They had assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday night's dinner. In their rush, with tickets and briefcases, one of these salesmen inadvertently kicked over a cart which held a display of apples. Apples flew everywhere. Without stopping or looking back, they all managed to reach the plane in time for their nearly missed boarding.
ALL BUT ONE !!!
He paused, took a deep breath, got in touch with his feelings, and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple cart had been overturned. He told his buddies to go on without him, waved good-bye, told one of them to call his wife when they arrived at their home destination and explain his taking a later flight. Then he returned to the terminal where the apples were all over the terminal floor.
He was glad he did.
The 16-year-old girl was totally blind! She was softly crying, tears running down her cheeks in frustration, and at the same time helplessly groping for her spilled produce as the crowd swirled about her, no one stopping and no one caring for her plight.
The salesman knelt on the floor with her, gathered up the apples, put them back on the table and helped organize her display. As he did this, he noticed that many of them had become battered and bruised; these he set aside in another basket.
When he had finished, he pulled out his wallet and said to the girl, 'Here, please take this $40 for the damage we did. Are you okay?' She nodded through her tears. He continued on with, 'I hope we didn't spoil your day too badly.'
As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered blind girl called out to him,
'Mister....' He paused and turned to look back into those blind eyes.
She continued,
'Are you Jesus?'
He stopped in mid-stride, and he wondered. Then slowly he made his way to catch the later flight with that question burning and bouncing about in his mind:
'Are you Jesus?'
Do people mistake you for Jesus? That's our destiny, is it not?
To be so much like Jesus that people cannot tell the difference as we live and interact with a world that is blind to His love, life and grace.
If we claim to know Him, we should live, walk and act as He would. Knowing Him is more than simply quoting Scripture and going to church. It's actually living the Word as life unfolds day to day.
You are the apple of His eye even though we, too, have been bruised by a fall.