Around The Corner... :) Shangy!
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================
>-->In The 'Shangy' News :)
>Hot Off The 'Shangy' Press...
This one is Smokin! Our friend Jo Ann sent this forward to us
and I liked it so much that I just had to do up a page for
it right away. Hopefully you'lll find it amusing too!
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| | '-----' | | APC'97
'-' '-'
God's Bumper Stickers
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/gbumper.html
---
...Thanks Jo Ann! A Super one!
-<>-
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>-->This is Awesome! - From Our Friends at CES :)
Hello and God bless you!
We thought you would be blessed to know that we have been steadily
adding short Bible study videos to our YouTube channel.
Here are some of the most recent videos:
An Overview of Figures of Speech Used in the Bible
Are There Lost / Missing Books of the Bible?
The Condition of Our Hearts / Guard Your Heart
A six part series on Truth Matters / the Characteristics of Truth
A three part series on The Day of Pentecost
To watch these videos, and many more, please visit our YouTube channel at:
http://www.youtube.com/truthortradition
God bless you!
The Home Office Staff
Spirit & Truth Fellowship International
STFonline.org
-<>-
>-->From Our Friend Pat :)
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(______( }___,,__) .';-.;',`.;';.`=|_______)
.' ,' //
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David Riley
>THIS WAS WRITTEN BY A SOLDIER IN IRAQ.
Okay, I need to rant.
I was just watching the news, and I caught part of a report on Michael
Jackson . As we all know, Jackson died the other day. He was an
entertainer who performed for decades. He made millions, he spent
millions, and he did a lot of things that make him a villain to many
people. I understand that his death would affect a lot of people, and
I respect those people who mourn his death, but that isn't the point
of my rant.
Why is it that when ONE man dies, the whole of America loses their
minds with grief. When a man dies whose only contribution to the
country was to ENTERTAIN people, the American people find the need to
flock to a memorial in Hollywood , and even Congress sees the need to
hold a "moment of silence" for his passing?
Am I missing something here? ONE man dies, and all of a sudden he's a
freaking martyr because he entertained us for a few decades? What
about all those SOLDIERS who have died to give us freedom? All those
Soldiers who, knowing that they would be asked to fight in a war,
still raised their hands and swore to defend the Constitution and the
United States of America . Where is there moment of silence? Where
are the people flocking to their graves or memorials and mourning over
them because they made the ultimate sacrifice? Why is it when a
Soldier dies, there are more people saying "good ridence," and "thank
God for IEDs?" When did this country become so calloused to the
sacrifice of GOOD MEN and WOMEN, that they can arbitrarily blow off
their deaths, and instead, throw themselves into mourning for a "Pop
Icon?"
I think that if they are going to hold a moment of silence IN CONGRESS
for Michael Jackson, they need to hold a moment of silence for every
service member killed in Iraq and Afghanistan . They need to PUBLICLY
recognize every life that has been lost so that the American people
can live their callous little lives in the luxury and freedom that WE,
those that are living and those that have gone on, have provided for
them. But, wait, that would take too much time, because there have
been so many willing to make that sacrifice. After all, we will never
make millions of dollars. We will never star in movies, or write hit
songs that the world will listen too. We only shed our blood, sweat
and tears so that people can enjoy what they have.
Sorry if I have offended, but I needed to say it. Feel free to pass
this along if you want.
Remember these five words the next time you think of someone who is
serving in the military;
"So that others may live..."
--
Isaac
Only two people have ever effectively given their lives for you.
Jesus Christ and The American G.I.
One died for your sins, the other died to give you freedom
---
...Thank You Pat.
I agree. More tribute should be given to the fallen soldiers! No
doubt about it. But, I've lifted this to Father to help me be able
to explain my feelings. I've heard this before on Fox News and
while I felt much sympathy for the grieving family of the fallen
soldier, I did not think it right to compare them to Michael Jackson.
Why give Michael so much? Why say their son or daughter should have
the same as him? Michael was not a soldier. Michael did not give his
life for any ones freedom. It is unfair to compare the two. One is
a hero while the other is not.
Each is special and has their own place in our hearts.
This came in from our friend James and helps to explain even a
little better why the hubbub over Michael Jackson's sudden death
and not the same kind of hubbub for a fallen hero....
"How often do you stop to remember how precious
someone is to you? How often do you consider
the significance of a milestone in a life?
A blessing can help you to look past mundane,
day-to-day life to help capture the significance
of events or people. It can help to remind you
how precious someone is to you."
Check out my freelance site
http://www.faith-writer.com to see how you
might incorporate blessings into your own
life of someone you love.
---
...Thanks James!
Michael made a big ripple in the pond of life!
You see? That was the thing. Michael was taken from us unexpectedly.
He was younger then me and I just thought he'd outlive me. I grew
up with him. I saw him on TV and heard him on the radio. Later I
came to appreciate his music, his dance, his poetry, his songs.
I have several of his songs in my MP3 player. I use his music to
uplift and motivate me to do the physical things I have to do in
life with a little more joy and happiness. He has always been
there for me in that I can always trust him to get me in gear.
He doesn't know me, yet through his music, I felt I knew him. I
worked with him, sang with him, danced with him and played with
him. He was with me practically every day and even in death, I will
continue to have him with me through his music.
When he died suddenly and unexpectedly as he did, it was like one
of my best friends had died. I shall truly miss him.
The thing is, I am not special. I am but one of millions of his
fans. Many people felt like I did. This is why there was more
coverage for Michael Jackson. He had many like me that thought of
him as a close friend. Even though in reality he was simply an
entertainer. Not a king or anyone special. He was only special
to those of us who had him in our heart as you would your own dear
friend. To all of you others, you say, gee what is the hubbub over
this guy? Now you know.
He was somebody that I had with me practically every day for
the last 20 or so years. Somebody that always made me feel better
singing and dancing with his songs with his words replaced with those
of my own giving God all the glory. Michael has given me much fun.
They should not be comparing him to a fallen soldier. It is not
right. The soldier is far greater! It does disservice to both.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take a break so Father,
Michael along with my other musician friends, and I can get dinner
around for my family. ;)
===================================================================
>-->From InspiredBuffalo:
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JRO
>"Little Golden Treasures" By: Joseph J. Mazzella
It is that time of the year again when instead of just looking
out at my lawn I have to mow it as well. I must say that I am
not looking forward to it.
It isn't that I mind the work. A little hard work never bothered
me. I also love the smell of freshly mowed grass. It is one of
the many joys of Spring and Summer. It is just that mixed in with
the tall grass right now are countless little golden treasures
that I will really hate mowing down. These wonderful treasures are
called dandelions and they will always have a very special place
in my heart.
Although many people consider dandelions to be weeds and do
everything they can to kill them, to me they will always be
flowers. Their little yellow blossoms are simple and yet
beautiful. Their scent is pleasing to the nose and their presence
can turn an ordinary meadow into a golden sea in Spring.
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Blowing their seeds into the wind can bring joy to the hearts
of eight year old's and eighty year old's alike. Like God's love
and joy they grow anywhere and everywhere. They are a gift and a
blessing and I always stop to gaze upon them and rejoice in
their beauty whenever I can.
Dandelions also remind me of what is best in all of us.
They remind me of the simple beauty, love, and joy that lies
within each of our souls.
They remind me of the strength of will that helps us to keep on
growing in and sharing that love and joy in spite of all the
people with lawn mowers and weed killers out there.
They remind me of how God scatters the seeds of our love, joy,
and goodness on the wind until they travel the world and plant
them-selves in a million hearts.
They remind me of how the tiniest blossom among us can still make
this world a better, more beautiful, and more Heavenly place.
That is why I always say, "Thank you dear God for dandelions."
Joseph J. Mazzella
joecool@wirefire.com
Joe lives in West Virginia with his wife and three children.
Various dogs and cats have adopted Joe and his family
for their own. Joe enjoys his family, beauty, love and
hearing from his email friends. Joe likes to take the time
to smell the roses and enjoy the beauty around him as
he goes about his daily life.
Joe would like to hear from you. He welcomes your
response to his articles and appreciates your emails.
---
...Wow! One person's perspective. So much like this Michael Jackson
thing I guess! To me dandelions are mixed with bad emotions. As a
child I remember picking them for my mom. I could hardly wait to see
her happiness at my gift of love. I ran in from outside to present
her with my little golden treasure bouquet. She instead scowled at
how stupid I was and said bitterly that my treasure was bad. 'They
are weeds! Throw them away in the trash!' When I took delight in
blowing their seeds to the wind, my mom would again tell me how dumb
I was. 'Stop that. Don't you know any better! I told you they were
weeds! You'll spread them to our yard!' I remember her words to this
day. When I got a little older I learned how lowsome they really were
because she made me spend my Saturdays out in the hot sun along the
side walk edges and in the yard digging them up.
Nope. Dandelions are not little golden treasures. Unless of course,
my children or now little grandson comes in and with bright eyes hands
me one of these beautiful flowers! Then they are the best treasure in
the whole wide world!
-<>-
,-=-.
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>A Military Wife
I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steakhouses that
you find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of
peanuts on every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of
perky college kids racing around with longneck beers and sizzling
platters.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my
glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no
uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were
definitely "military," clean shaven, cropped haircut, and
that "squared away" look that comes with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my
husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in
this very booth, talking about his up coming deployment to the
Middle East.
That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come
back to this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice
steak.
In turn he would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking
about him until he returned home to me.
I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where
he was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any
better? Were my letters getting through to him?
As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female voices from the
next booth broke into my thoughts. "I don't know what Bush is
thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think that man would learn
from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an idiot!
I can't even believe he's in office! You do know he stole the
election"!
I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an
endless tirade running down our [then] president. I thought about
the last night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy.
He had just returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots.
The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask
still gives me chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about
oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the
oil they can in the name of 'freedom.' Hmph! I wonder how many
innocent people they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure
greed, you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see
how handsome myhusband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped
it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his
desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy
bulletproof vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are
hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to
increase the President's popularity. That's all it is, padding the
military budget at the expense of our social security and education.
And, you know what else? We're just asking for another 9-11 ! I
can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched
gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of
brave men and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our
freedom? Do they even know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw
their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at
each other dejectedly, listening to the women talking. "Well, I, for
one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly
sick of our tax dollars going to train professional baby killers we
call a military."
Professional baby killers? I thought about what a wonderful father
my husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our
children again. That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally
reserved, pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never
realized I had.
Tonight the voice will answer on behalf of our military, and let her
pride in our troops be known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and
placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level
with them, I smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your
conversation. You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone.
And, do you know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart,
is halfway around the world defending your right to say rotten things
about him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none
of my business. However, what you say in public is something else,
and I will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY
president, MY husband, and all the other fine American men and women
who put their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom"
to complain. Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your
actions cheapen it."
I must have been louder that I meant to be, because the manager came
over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I
replied. Then turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of
your meal."
As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for
making a scene, and went back to my half-eaten steak. The women
picked up their check and scurried away.
After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the manager
returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those
soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay
for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I
asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the
gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one
of our boys".
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and
thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came
over and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am.
You know we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we
appreciate what you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I
didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of
the other diners who stopped by my table,to relate how they, too,
were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers. I
knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day.
Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their pride
in our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just
maybe, the two women who were railing against our country, would
pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers, and
the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference.
Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base
where I live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign
of my own. It will simply say THANK YOU
(Lori Kimble is a 31 y ear old teacher and proud military wife. A
California native, Mrs.Kimble currently lives in Alabama.)
-<>-
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>A HERO FOR OUR TIME
You may be acquainted with a real-life hero!
An American tourist in Tel Aviv was about to enter the impressive
Mann Auditorium to take in a concert by the Israel Philharmonic.
He was admiring the unique architecture, the sweeping lines of the
entrance, and the modern decor throughout the building.
Finally he turned to his escort and asked if the building was named
for Thomas Mann, the world famous author.
"No," his friend said, "it's named for Fredric Mann, from
Philadelphia."
"Really? I never heard of him. What did he write?"
"A check."
There are many kinds of heroes, and Fredric Mann is a hero to many
concert goers. But you don't have to be famous (or wealthy) to be a
hero. That honor may go to just about anyone -- perhaps you. You may
have never considered yourself much of a hero, but you could be
wrong. The fact is, most people's heroes and role models include
those closest to them -- family and friends.
Harold W. Bernard said, "There are unrecognized heroes among our
ordinary neighbors." And Kenneth E. Clark, former president of the
American Psychological Association, once said this about
heroes: "Heroes stand for what is right. If someone is our hero,
it's because that person does what you would like to see
accomplished." Maybe they rise above adversity with dignity.
Maybe they exemplify perseverance. Maybe they show unusual courage
in terrifying situations. Maybe they love the unlovable
and live with quiet grace.
Actor Mel Gibson said of his father, "He's my hero. I learned from
him never to quit and never to stop striving to improve
yourself. He gave me a foundation of belief without which all the
fame and success and money would have overwhelmed me."
Real heroes are not always famous. But they DO make a difference.
So, this is for you -- the unrecognized and quiet heroes of everyday
life. Thanks...for being you!
© 2001 Steve Goodier
-<>-
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>From MY RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD By Monique Nicole Fox
My relationship with God
is an atmosphere of LOVE
greener than grass
brighter than sunshine
fresher than rain
bluer than the sky
sweeter than chocolate
stronger than super glue
That surrounds me,
that influences me from ABOVE
-<>-
.---. E ! !
(_____) E
\ / E E
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//
( )mrf
>Pause for thought...
Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat
missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb
ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6
years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and
now lectures on lessons learned from that experience!
One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man
at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet
fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk.
You were shot down!"
"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.
"I packed your parachute," the man replied.
Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude.
The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!"
Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't
worked, I wouldn't be here today."
Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man.
Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he had looked like
in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom
trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even
said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything because, you see, I
was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."
Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent at a long wooden
table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and
folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the
fate of someone he didn't know.
Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?"
Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through
the day.
He also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes
when his plane was shot down over enemy territory--
he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute,
his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute.
He called on all these supports before reaching safety.
Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we
miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or
thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has
happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no
reason. As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize
people who pack your parachutes.
I am sending you this as my way of thanking you for
your part in packing my parachute!
And I hope you will send it on to those who have
helped pack yours!
-<>-
_I_
.~'_`~.
/( ,^ .~ ~. ^. )\
\ \/ .^ | ^. \/ /
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|:| | __// |:| '^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^`
|:| |_____/ |:|
____|_|/ |_|_____________________________
____]H[ ]H[_____________________________
/ \
cjr
>AROUND THE CORNER I HAVE A FRIEND
(By Andrej Primozic, October 10, 1999)
Around the corner I have a friend
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friend's face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well.
As in the days when I rang his bell,
And he rang mine....
We were much younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men...
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tire of trying to make a name....
"Tomorrow," I say, "I will call on Jim"
"Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows...
Around the corner! - yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir" - "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end....
Around the corner, a vanished friend....
----
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If you love someone, tell them....
Remember always to say what you mean...
Never be afraid to express yourself....
Take this opportunity to tell someone what they mean to you...
---
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...LOVE AND HUGGUMS TO YOU IN CHRIST - :) Shangy!
-<>-
[OH NO! I just got this in my email....]
Just a quick note for those of you that have not already
heard from Buffalo's Scuttlebutt.. My mother was killed
in a head-on collision here in Spokane. The car she was
riding in with her brother was struck by a young lady
racing to get her cat to the vet.. My uncle was released
from the hospital late last night with neck, chest, and
head injuries.. I will be flying home today to start
preparing funeral arrangements.. I will get back to you
as soon as time allows..
Nancy
---
...Please pray for Nancy and her family! Bless Their Hearts!
-<>-
>Links for Your Enjoyment
Nextel Dance Party
http://www.buffaloschips.com/kjpopo.htm
No Fear
http://www.buffaloschips.com/kjoppo.htm
Bad Luck
http://www.buffaloschips.com/fasd.htm
Boogie Woogie
http://www.buffaloschips.com/fsdjlk.htm
Ford Police Chase
http://www.buffaloschips.com/sdfds.htm
Albino Bears
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/albinobear.html
Life's Little Opps!
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/whoops.html
Odin The White Tiger
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/whitetiger.html
Koalas In A Heatwave
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/koalas.html
Babies Rollerskating
http://tinyurl.com/n7shcz
Mevo and the Grooveriders
http://tinyurl.com/mu6o9e
Scary Museum Prank
http://tinyurl.com/nfkua7
MJ Tribute: Eternal Moonwalk
http://www.eternalmoonwalk.com/
MJ Tribute: Moon Art
http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/moonart.html
Subscribe send a blank email to:
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>Just a Little Thing Story Editor:
by Carolyn Fansler Joyce Schowalter
Pennsylvania, USA
It was the winter of 1978. I went to work that morning in a really bad
mood. I can't remember why, but it felt like a dark cloud hung over my
head. The weather was miserable, cold and damp, which probably greatly
influenced how I felt. The forecast called for snow through early
afternoon. I had a feeling it would be a very bad day.
I parked my car in the outdoor lot, entered the building and made my way
to my desk. I needed time to get a cup of tea and adjust my mood, but it
was not to be. My boss was already there, needing my help immediately.
My in-box held a huge stack of papers and a meeting was starting that I
had to attend. I forced myself to be as cheerful as possible and hide my
grumpiness.
Lunchtime came and went with no time for a break -- or even a vending
machine snack. My office mates talked and laughed as they returned from
lunch breaks. Usually, that didn't bother me, but this day, it caused my
mood to darken further.
There were no windows near my desk, but other people commented that it
was snowing hard. Several inches were on the ground and people were
planning to leave early. Obviously, I couldn't -- with a 5 o'clock
deadline every second was needed.
That evening I was the last one to leave. By then I was pretty mad and
feeling awfully sorry for myself. I wasn't looking forward to cleaning
snow off my car in the dark. The snow had stopped, but there were at
least five inches on the ground.
Turning the corner of the building into the parking lot, I saw my car.
It was completely free of snow. Someone had cleaned every inch of it
away. It looked like it had been parked inside a garage all day.
I just stood there with my mouth open. Immediately my mood lightened. I
started to smile and then laugh. More than 25 years have passed and I
still remember that feeling as if it happened yesterday.
The next day, I asked around to find out who had done it. Mike told me
that he knew I was working furiously to get my projects done and having
a hard day. He didn't want me to spend time alone in a dark parking lot
cleaning off my car. He said, "It was just a little thing". I thanked
him and told him that his "little" thing was a big deal to me.
Even now, every time it snows and I'm cleaning off my car, I smile and
remember what Mike did for me. Whenever I have the time and
opportunity, I brush off at least one other car besides mine. Every time
it makes me feel as good as I did the night Mike cleaned my car for me.
=======HeroicStories=======
>-->from Our Friend Maxy's Pal:
W .__. .__.
[ ] |::| |::|
E ._. |::| |::| ._.
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\ \\|/ |:|_|/| |::| |::|_ |/|
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| V L |:|"|/|||::| |::|\|||/||:|
\ ` ___ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
| \/ / ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ ~~~pww
>In the Year 1907...
Theodore Roosevelt's ideas on Immigrants and being an AMERICAN in 1907.
'In the first place, we should insist that if the immigrant who comes
here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he
shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an
outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or
birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the person's becoming
in every facet an American, and nothing but an American....There can be
no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but
something else also, isn't an American at all. We have room for but one
flag, the American flag... We have room for but one language here, and
that is the English language... and we have room for but one sole
loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people.'
--Theodore Roosevelt 1907
Every American citizen needs to read this!
KEEP THIS MOVING
---
...Yes, very well said! Thank You Maxy's Pal!
===============================================================
>-->From Petwarmers:
)..(
(.o)
`.( )
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"`'"
>DUSTY by Jim Willis
Last night, a cousin emailed me that our beloved Uncle Dean was
dying of liver cancer, in Florida, where he'd retired decades ago.
I didn't read the message until this morning and replied
immediately. I then received the bad news that he had died at 4am. One
of my aunts is on the way there now to make the arrangements and to
bring him home.
Although he had just marked his 90th birthday, he was a fit and
handsome man, and an avid golfer. Most of the family had seen him weeks
ago when he came home for the funeral of his brother, my Uncle Eugene.
They were two of my mother's seven brothers, and she also had two
sisters. I had just exchanged Christmas cards with him and he told me he
was about to perform in his 19th annual charity variety show.
When I was a boy, my parents wouldn't allow me to have a dog.
Consequently, I remember the most important dogs of my childhood.
First, the Boxer girl who used to sit next to the old man on a park
bench near the apartment building where we once lived.
Next, the elderly, asthmatic Chihuahua girl who belonged to my
paternal great aunt. The aunt made the mistake of telling me, "If
anything happens to me, I want you to have her." As much as I loved my
aunt, I probably prayed that the Good Lord would take her quickly and
painlessly. Thankfully, she lived more than three decades longer.
And then there was Dusty.
Dusty was a young adult Scotch Collie girl adopted by my Uncle Dean
and his sweet wife, my Aunt Mary. They never had children. I remember
the first time I met Dusty. They'd only had her a matter of days when
my family came to visit. My little brother was afraid of dogs after a
narrow escape from a possibly rabid German Shepherd. My aunt asked us
to sit quietly, and then she opened the door to the cellar and let Dusty
into the living room. Dusty ran around the room like a rocket, knocking
over lamps, jumping on everyone, and hurdling furniture. My parents
pursed their lips, my brother paled and I was smitten.
By the time we next saw Dusty, the transformation was complete -- a
credit to both my uncle and aunt. I spent many weekend visits with them
and my adoration of Dusty undoubtedly transformed me.
My uncle was a talented sign painter and his shop was several miles
away. Dusty could hear his truck coming from more than a mile away and
she would lie in front of the door, waiting for him to come home. If
Uncle Dean asked her to roll over, she did. If he commanded her to
speak, she spoke. If he said, "Say hubba, hubba," she said "Hubba,
hubba."
Dusty played football with us and neighborhood kids. She knew how
to tackle and she knew which team she was on.
And then there was the piece de resistance of tricks. Uncle Dean
would tell Dusty to sit and then he'd place one green-colored dog treat
on one of her front paws and one red-colored treat on the other paw.
Dusty would hold her pose like a statue. Then he'd say, "Okay, eat the
red one." She would and then return to her statue pose. Then he'd say,
"Okay, you can have the green one." And she would.
Nothing Siegfried & Roy ever did with their tigers impressed me
more as a little boy than watching Uncle Dean and Dusty.
My Aunt Mary died too soon from cancer. Following my mother's
funeral, Uncle Dean and I went for a walk together. I brought up the
subject of Dusty and we reminisced about what a truly great dog she had
been. I didn't ask him why he'd never married again, or kept another
dog again. I suspect the answer might have been that when you've known
the best you don't expect to be able to find their equal.
I didn't know then that my life would become animals -- animal
rescue, animal issues, animal welfare, animal rights, writing about
animals.
I've always marked my volunteer service at an animal shelter,
starting at age 14, as a turning point in my life. I never understood
until today (and it took the loss of a wonderful man to make me realize
it) that one of the earliest and best lesson I ever received was from
Uncle Dean and Aunt Mary and Dusty. They taught me that all dogs have
worth -- even badly behaved ones -- and that people should not give up
on dogs. Love, attention, and kind training can work miracles.
I'd written to Uncle Dean in my Christmas card that I was going to
begin writing another book. The title came to me months ago, the
storyline came to me only a few days ago, and I didn't yet have a name
for the dog character.
It will be "Dusty." Uncle Dean wrote to me in his Christmas card,
"You are a busy guy -- a good journalist and a wonderful artist. Stay
well, Jim. Let me know about your new book."
I suspect I just have. Writing a book is not easy. Nor is the
setting of deadlines or goals for yourself. I'm not sure I'm doing
myself any favors by adding the expectations that it might be a book
that someone I loved so much would be proud of.
But before I'm even brave enough to type one word on a blank page,
and rather than deal with the grief of another loss, yet again, I chose
to write this.
I'll comfort myself a while longer with the image of Uncle Dean and
Aunt Mary walking hand-in-hand again, with Dusty at their side --
impeccably well behaved, because they loved and believed in her.
-- Jim Willis
____________________________________________
Unfortunately, less than a month after Jim wrote this story at the end
of December 2003, he lost the notes for his new book in a fire that
ravaged his home and destroyed many of his pets. We hope he has the
strength and interest to reconstruct his notes and pursue his project.
You can visit Jim's website at: http://www.crean.com/jimwillis and
learn more about his life and book he's previously written.
=================================================================
.-. .--.
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Pete
>-->Sharing Your Faith
(by Shaun King)
"How much does a so-called Christian have to hate you if they really
believe in Jesus, Heaven, and hell and never tell you about it?"
While those words may sound like they came from your local evangelist or
pastor, they didn't. Not even close. Instead, they came from the mouth
of one of the most famous non-believing atheists in the world, Penn
Jillette, widely known as the bigger half of the performance group Penn
& Teller.
When I heard Penn make this statement it was like a kick in the gut. Let
me tell you why. Penn made this statement after finishing a show. A very
warm, sincere man waited patiently to meet with Penn and gave Penn a
small Bible and told him very kindly how much he believed and valued the
words inside of that book.
Now, before you get too happy I want to tell you ahead of time that Penn
still says he could care less about the Bible, but he was moved by
earnest honesty and beliefs of a simple man that wanted to share his
faith in God with someone that he admired. Not cliche, not judgmental,
not snobbish, the man very plainly and simply shared his faith and it
broke through Penn's very cynical exterior walls.
When reflecting back on this encounter later that evening, Penn said
that he wasn't even slightly irritated when the man shared his faith.
Indeed, he said what troubled and irritated him even more than someone
sharing a deeply held faith in God, was a man or woman that claimed to
have a deep faith about a risen Savior, or an everlasting afterlife of
Heaven or Hell, but thought so little about people that they never told
them about it!
Ouch! Strong words? Yes.
But Penn is right.
Either we don't really believe in an awesome Savior that chose the nails
and the cross for us or we must hate people so much that we know this
Savior for ourselves, but don't want anyone else to know Him.
Who are you telling about Jesus? Better yet - who are you not telling
about Him that really needs to hear His story and yours? Are you sure
you believe in Jesus and in Heaven? If so, why not tell everyone you
know about this amazing news we call the Gospel?
One thing that I have learned over the past few weeks with the deaths of
Michael Jackson, Steve McNair, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, and others is
that tomorrow just isn't promised and that we should never assume that
we have another hour or another day or another random time to tell
someone about our faith journey.
Maybe they'll reject the Gospel and reject you and move on, but maybe,
just maybe they won't. Maybe God will use you as a springboard into the
heart of that person or that family that you need to talk with. Just
understand this - our faith is not a private faith. It's not a secret,
keep-it-to-yourself type of faith.
It's a tell-the-whole-world-because-you-can't-contain-yourself type of
faith and people need to hear from you. Today, I dare you to start
sharing your faith today and see what happens!
===================================================================
>-->From Our Friend John-Paul :)
__
/_/\/\
\_\ /
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\_\/\ \
\_\/
unknown
JOB ANNOUNCEMENT
<><><><><><><><><><><><><>
The Kingdom of God is hiring!
Are you ready to apply? Do you qualify?
JOB TITLE: Disciples for Christ
JOB DESCRIPTION: Tell the dying world how to live through Jesus Christ
NUMBER OF AVAILABLE POSITIONS: Unlimited; everyone is
welcome--preachers, teachers, singers, musicians, missionaries,
custodians, food servers, and numerous others that we just can't list
them all here
EXCEPTION TO AVAILABLE POSITIONS: The vacancy of BOSS has already been
filled by the Holy `GHOST`
QUALIFICATIONS: Must have previously sinned and been blood washed; must
be willing to press toward the mark of the high calling in Christ Jesus
EXPERIENCE NEEDED: None necessary; experience will be earned through
on-the-job training
EDUCATION: The Holy Ghost will teach you all things
BENEFIT PACKAGE/SALARY: God (the employer) shall supply all your needs
according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus
INSURANCE: Access to the Master Physician
PACKAGE ALSO INCLUDES: Love, joy, peace, patience, long suffering;
Lawyer, Comforter, and a Wonderful Counselor
RECOMPENSE FOR COMPLETING THE JOB ASSIGNMENT: The most important
benefit, ETERNAL LIFE with the employer.
DEADLINE FOR APPLICATIONS: Before the return of Jesus Christ; date/hour
not known; wise to apply TODAY
IMPORTANT WARNING: Satan and HIS DEMONS need not apply
May today there be peace within you. May you trust God that you are
exactly where you are meant to be. "I believe that friends are quiet
angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering
how to fly."
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Always~~~~~~~~~~~~~John-Paul
When you have a moment,
Please vsit my web site~
It has now been updated, and soon new poems will be added ~
http://www.geocities.com/jpw1936/index.html
---
...Awesome! Thanks John- Paul! Reminds me of this song...
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unknown
>-->Go Tell It On The Mountain
Go tell it on the mountain,
Over the hills and everywhere,
Go tell it on the mountain,
Our Jesus Christ is born.
When I was a seeker
I sought both night and day,
I asked the Lord to help me,
And he showed me the way.
Go tell it on the mountain,
Over the hills and everywhere,
Go tell it on the mountain,
Our Jesus Christ is born.
He made me a watchman
Upon a city wall,
And if I am a Christian,
I am the best of all.
Go tell it on the mountain,
Over the hills and everywhere,
Go tell it on the mountain,
Our Jesus Christ is born.
>Updated FUN STUFF URLS - Oh Yeah :) Shangy!
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FUN URLS
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-->This is for all you who love food andd DARE to make it at home Yep.
You guessed it - Recipes. These are Tried and True, Yummy to the Tummy,
good old fashioned home cooking recipes that are EASY to do :)
Visit Shangy's Easy-Does-It Home Recipes:
http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/easy.html
Home Recipes
>Got A good Recipe? SHARE IT HERE:
Share
A Recipe
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