Happy Father's Day! ... :) Shangy! >-->HAPPY Blessed FATHER'S DAY WEEKEND! .---. ,;;;, / _ _ \ ///\\\\ # . . # \/. .\/ ( \ ) ( \ ) \ = / \ - / ./'---'\. .-/_'-'_\-. /`/ \`.`/ \`\ / `:` \ ; ,\ | . | /, ; ; , : , ; | | >| . |< | | | | : | | | | \| . |/ | | \ \ : / / | | | . | | | \ '._:_.' / | | |===| | | '._/ { \_.' | | | | | | | `-'-` | |-|_/ \_ \_|-| | , | \_| | |_/ | | | |_ | _| |_ | _| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |___|___| |___|___| / / \ \ / / \ \ jgs(__/ \__) (__/ \__) May you have a Safe and Happy Father's Day Celebration! O ~O <|\ /|\ | ~o/ | \o ~o/ _o |\ /| |\ |\ /| |\ jgs / | / \ |// > / \ / > Today we have some Father Stories from the Heart for you... >Daddy's little girl When I was growing up, my family wasn't the "kisses-and-hugs" type at all. My father was very stern and ruled with a steel hand. It was all trial and error for my parents; for one thing, they were very, very young when they had my brother and me. They had to learn and grow up just as much as we did. If my father hadn't have been the way he was, I wouldn't be the person I am today. I was taught to work for what you want, therefore you'll truly appreiciate it. And I do -- I've worked hard for everything I've got in my life, and I truly do appreciate it. I'm 24 now, and I live in Tampa, Fla. I haven't been able to fly back home in two years, and I miss my family so much. I took for granted what I had there. We may not have had the best relationship a father and daughter should have, but I know that I do love him and he will always be my father, and I'll always be daddy's little girl. _ _ / )%.===.%( \ | // ,,, \\ | \/ \/o.o\/ \/ /\ ( _ ) /\ ^^ /`"""`\ ^^ ( (_@_) ) /'-.Y.-'\ / | \ /___________\ jgs _|_|_|_ (___|___) Aimee Hastings Tampa, Fla. -<,,>- >Father of the Year to me He's the greatest there is to me. When I'm down, he is available to me 24 hours a day. When the sun does not come out, he is my light. When fear is around, he is my cover to hide under. When I'm in need he is my bank. Past years, we have had differences about lifestyles....but in a way we still know we cannot live without the other. I ask God, please save him forever.... _..._ .~` ~. { \ \~~`'._ / )- {,_} '.___,-', |\ _| \ \_| ` \ \ / \ _;--' \ /` /_ \ .___.-'| \ ^^^jgs^^^^^^^^`--`'------`--`^^^^^^^ Esther Gongora-Garcia Houston -<,,>- >The father with a close eye It was summertime, school was out, we were free to roam the hills..., or we could just hike on over to cousin Charlie's for the day. On one such trek we came upon an old abaonded house with most of the window panes broken into splinters of glass glistening in the bright morning sunshine. We conferred and agreed to break out a few more panes. Of course, our father found out about it. He kept a close eye. That was about 60 years ago, and I still remember how he had each of us write a letter of apology to the owner and include all the change that we had saved. .---. /_____\__ `\/6.6\/--` ( _ ) ,'---', / _ \ /\/ (_) \/\ \ | (_) | / \| |/ |_____| | | | | | | \__|__/ |_|_| jgs _|_|_|_ (___|___) Al Hunter, Pearland, Texas -<..>- >My hero From taking the training wheels off my bike, to letting me off punishment a couple days early, to putting me through college, my Dad is truly a hero. He has never once "not had time" for my brother and I. For 21 years he has made sure we were provided for, and not just financially. He insisted that my brother and I attend college, only it was never a fight because all through our lives he has shown us what it takes to succeed so my brother and I always knew that we'd go to college. I catch myself thinking sometimes that his friends must think my Dad is pretty great to be putting both his kids through college and then I think, many parents never get the chance. My dad has always said that he wants my brother and me to succeed even more than he did. For 21 years he has not once let my brother or I down, so we won't let him down either. Our father is truly a hero. .===. _ _ / _/\ \ / )%.===.%( \ \/6.6\/ | // ,,, \\ | ( _ ) \/ \/6.6\/ \/ _)---(_ /\ ( _ ) /\ / `~` \ ^^ /()-()\ ^^ /\/ \/\ / /o o\ \ \ | | / (._\ Y /_.) \|_____|/ (O_`&`_O) | L | / / \ \ |__|__| / ()/^\() \ | | | /. . . . . . .\ |_|_| `"`"`|`|`|`"`"` jgs _|_|_|_ _|_|_|_ (___|___) (___|___) Carrie and Richie Vincent >Visit here for More Dad Stories from the Heart http://tinyurl.com/2opufz ============= >-->Don't Forget Our FATHER - GOD On This Father's Day :) -=- (\ _ /) (`\(")/') (`/\') \\/^\// / \ hjw / \ `-._.-' Have you ever marveled at the dawning of a new day And stood in awe of how perfectly God painted it that way? I have. Have you wondered at the wisdom God does impart, Or ever wrote a story or poem from the heart? I have. Have you ever felt so blessed your joy is overflowing, Because of all God's love for you, He was gently showing? I have. Have you ever stood in the mist of a beautiful waterfall, And wondered what would life be like, without anything like this, at all? I have. Have you ever held a newborn close for just a little while, Or listened to a child's giggle, or felt a warm smile? I have. These are just a few of the pleasures we experience each day, Let's never forget to thank God for them, each day, as we pray! I have! - Poem 'I Have' by DeAnna Carter 4-4-2000 -<,,>- >MORE OF What to be Thankful to God our Father for... God's Paintings http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/gpaints.html Awesome Photos http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/awesome.html Aww Animals http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/animals.html Why God Gave Us Pets http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/gpets.html Miracle Baby http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/smellofrain.html Love Thoughts http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/love.html Dreamy Ladies http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/dreamy.html =============================================================== >-->From Our Friend John-Paul :) .') _ (_ ) .+(` ) ) -a:f- _ :( ) ) .:(` ) ) -- .-- `. ( ) ) - -- :( ) .( ) ` __.:' `. `( ) ) ( ) ) ` __.:' ))--- ( )) ---- _ ) ) -- --' _ `- __.' .=(` ) .-' (` ). :( ) ( '`. . -- `( ) ) ) ---- ( ) ) --- ` __.:' ` __.:'-' Then Comes The Rainbow Darkening Billows Every Where, Crowds the Morning Sky, Thunder, Lightning, Nature`s Fire works, As Approaching Storm--Comes Nigh. A Deluge of Water, replacing Land, So dry. What A Display of Anger and Strife-- But will soon Pass us By. `THEN COMES THE RAINBOW` Gleaming bright, Giving off Most Pleasant, and Shimmering Lights, Showing Off It`s Majestic Spirit-- In Flight. While Pushing Angry Clouds Away, out of Sight. Hiding It`s Treasures of `Pot Pure Gold`, An Elusive Commodity I`ve Been Told. A Shadowing Figment on an Endless Stroll. That Tries the Very Depths of Man`s Mortal Soul. AH, but, ~`LIFE`~ Is My Rainbow, A Way to Reach, The Wonderful Words The Bible Teach, The Promises Given from Heaven above, TO acomplish that Marvelous `Day`of Love, When Our FATHER We Shall Meet. Oh, to sing PRAISE to `GOD` FOREVER, and Forever A most plesant hope of an Eternal Endeavor. Come now dear Jesus, even today `THEN COMES THE RAINBOW , AND WE ALL SHALL `FLY AWAY` AMEN Always~~~~~~~John-Paul -<,,>- ____ ___.--' `-/) ___ __.-----' __.---._// < `----' _____,---' ___ // \--.____.--' ___,--' y/ \_ __.-----' __,--// >`----' _____,---' _// .'-.____,--',,,,, ___,--n//_ .'.__ __/ \' ___,/(_/ < `----' \ C '\-' .'// `----.____.---) _| .' // .'=. (--'/|// | \)`-\.' __/ \ \ ,' /// ;. ' /// | `._,'// \ // )===//] / |_// | \_ (/ | \ |\ \ __ | \ |[__]| \ ||__|/ / \ | / | G |/ /| O | /\| D | /`.|____| `=.\____/ hjw ) '`--. `='====' "I Am A `SOLDIER` In The Army of My God." The Lord Jesus Christ is my Commanding Officer. The Holy Bible is my Code of Conduct. Faith, Prayer, And the `Word`, Are my Weapons of Warfare. I have been Taught by the HOLY GHOST, Trained by Experience, Tried by Adversity, And tested by Fire. I am a Volunteer in this Army, And I have Enlisted for Eternity. I Will Not Get Out, Sell Out, Be Talked Out, Or Pushed Out. I am Faithful, Reliable, Capable, And Dependable. If my God needs me, I am `There`. Am not a Baby. I do not need to be Pampered, Petted, Primed up, Pumped up, Picked up, Or Pepped up. I am a Soldier! I am not a Wimp. I am `In Place`, And I`m Saluting my King, Obeying His Orders, Praising His Name, And Building His Kingdom! No one has to send me Flowers, Gifts, Food, Cards or, Candy. I do not need to be Cuddled, Cradled, Cared for, Or Catered to. I Am Committed. I cannot have my feelings hurt Bad enough to turn me Around. I cannot be Discouraged enough To Turn Me Aside. I cannot Lose enough To Cause Me To Quit. For When Jesus called me into His Army, I had Nothing. If I End up with Nothing, I will still come out Ahead. BECAUSE I Will Win. My God has and will continue To Supply `ALL` my Needs. I am More than a Conqueror. I will Always Triumph. I can do all things through Christ JESUS!. Devils cannot Defeat me. People cannot Disillusion me. Weather cannot Weary me. Sickness cannot STOP me. Battles cannot Beat me. Money cannot Buy me. Governments cannot Silence me. And ``Hell`` cannot Handle me. Because I`m a soldier for the KING!. Death cannot destroy me. For when my Commander Calls me from this Battlefield, He Will Promote me to Captain, And then allow me to rule with Him FOREVER. I am a soldier in GOD`S Army, And I´m claiming `Victory`. I WILL NOT GIVE UP !. I WILL NOT TURN AROUND!. I AM A SOLDIER !, Ever Marching, And I`M Heaven Bound!, PRAISEING, and "GLORY TO GOD FOREVER"! ~Amen~ (John-Paul) --- ... Good Ones! Thank You John-Paul! ============================================================ >-->From our friend Becky :) ) ( / \ .-"""""-. / \ ( \/ __ __ \/ ) ) ; / _\ /_ \ ; ( ( | / \ / \ | ) \ (, \0/_\0/ ,) / \_| / \ |_/ | (_\___/_) | .\ \ -.- / /. { \ `===' / } { `.___.' } jgs { } `"="="="="="` Breakfast at McDonald's This is a good story and is true, please read it all the way through until the end! (After the story, there are some very interesting facts!): I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called, 'Smile.' The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought this would ____ .-" _ "-. / _ \ /`| | `\ |\ /\o/ \_o/ |;\ __ _ .-"""-. \;;\ \ `-'/ ;-._.-' , |;;;\ '--. |_ \ \ _.--'| |;;;;| | '. \ \ `-._/ /===;/..-"-. \ '. /`._ __ ___/___(( _ \ \ Y ``-\_/==;===='"`/``---' \ \ \\ \ /` \___/ |\ \ /` | | \ ; / / | | jgs / \ | | .' \_/ | be a piece of cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did not move an inch... an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible 'dirty body' smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was 'smiling'. His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's Light as he searched for acceptance. He said, 'Good day' as he counted the few coins he had been clutching. The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation. I held my tears as I stood there with them. The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted. He said, 'Coffee is all Miss' because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm). Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action. I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman's cold hand. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, 'Thank you.' I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, 'I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope.' I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son. When I sat down my husband smiled at me and said, 'That is why God gave you to me, Honey, to give me hope.' We held hands for a moment and at that time, we knew that only because of the Grace that we had been given were we able to give. We are not church goers, but we are believers. That day showed me the pure Light of God's sweet love. I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in 'my project' and the instructor read it. Then she looked up at me and said, 'Can I share this?' I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings and being part of God share this need to heal people and to be healed. In my own way I had touched the people at McDonald's, my son, instructor, and every soul that shared the classroom on the last night I spent as a college student. I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn: UNCONDITIONAL ACCEPTANCE. Much love and compassion is sent to each and every person who may read this and learn how to LOVE PEOPLE AND USE THINGS - NOT LOVE THINGS AND USE PEOPLE. ============================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: .""```'. / \ \ / / `\__/ | .' _ _| \(` 6 6 | _\ | ALL HE EVER WANTED | \ ._ / | '.__/ by Kathy Whirity .'` \ |_ jgs '-__ / `- Out of all the Father's days my husband, Bill, has celebrated as a dad, I recall the one we spent apart. The girls were young and we had the opportunity to visit my sister and her sons at their new home in Portland, Oregon. Bill couldn't take the time off work but he encouraged me to take the girls and have a fun trip. The girls were anxious to see their aunt and cousins, so we booked a flight, along with my parents, for a three week stay. Departure day arrived and Bill drove us all to the airport. Right before we boarded the plane, and after he kissed us each good-bye, Bill shook my dad's hand and, with a tear in his eye, asked him to take care of "his girls." And then we were off. I was about to discover just how lost I would be without my husband. Portland is an awesome city. My sister, the kids and I, would often take walks to a park a few blocks away from her home. While in the park, we'd climb the more than 50 cobblestone steps that led to a striking neighborhood of mansions on a hill. It was said that movie starts owned some of the homes, Harrison Ford being among the Hollywood elite to spend time there. Though we never saw any famous faces, we'd walk around admiring the meticulously kept lawns as well as being mesmerized by the flowers that bloomed everywhere. The beauty of the blossoms invigorated the senses leaving the neighborhoods literally drenched in eye catching color. We drove across a bridge, over water, that seemed to stretch 5 miles. I was thankful to have something to watch -- a scenic view of wind surfers catching waves held my attention until we were safely back on land. But, no matter what the tourist attraction or tranquil scene, I missed my husband dearly. After four days, I was ready to pack my bags for home. But the calendar was a sad reminder that I had another 17 days to go. I pre-ordered a Father's Day bouquet of flowers from the local florist -- a pitiful replacement for our presence. I spent that Father's Day sipping lemonade on my sister's porch as I cherished a gift of my own -- memories of my dear Bill being a wonderful, fun loving and compassionate father to our daughters. Changing diapers was a main event if Bill was on diaper duty. The task wasn't finished until little bottoms were lotioned and powered to perfection. He was a dad that paid attention to detail. When the girls were toddlers and sun dresses were the fashion, the look was not complete until their dad patiently dotted each tiny toe with pretty red nail polish. On cool summer evenings he'd fill the wading pool with warm water from the hose he'd hook up to the basement faucet. In the winter, he'd bundle them up and pull them in the bright orange sled over freshly fallen snow. He is a man who loves his family more than life itself -- his family is all the life he's ever wanted or needed. And there I was, in a far away city -- me without my husband and our girls without their daddy. That tender moment at the airport came to mind of my husband asking my dad to do what he could not -- watch out for us. The three weeks finally came to an end. Bill was there waiting for us when we got off the plane. As soon as we got home we were greeted with gifts. Among them were Flight Attendant Barbies for the girls and a sparkling gold necklace for me. It felt like Christmas in July. And the best gift of all was being back home with my husband. All these years later, I can still remember how it felt when he hugged me the minute I got off the plane. He hugged me so tight I didn't think he'd ever let me go. And, I can tell you, from that day on -- I will never let him. -- Kathy Whirity ___________________________________________ .======. /((((((()\ ((/// \)) ((/`__ __()) /`-{_o}^{o_}'\ \_ _\ _/ \ .__, / \ `-' / /`----'\ jgs.-"""`------'`""-. FATHER'S DAY FUNNIES While flying from Denver to Kansas City, Kansas, my mother was sitting across the aisle from a woman and her eight-year-old son. Mom couldn't help laughing as they neared their destination and she heard the mother say to the boy, "Now remember -- run to Dad first, then the dog." -- Karla J. Kasper On the day I received my learner's permit, my father agreed to take me out for a driving lesson. With a big grin, he hopped in behind the driver's seat. "Why aren't you sitting up front on the passenger's side?" I asked. "Kirsten, I've been waiting for this ever since you were a little girl," Dad replied. "Now it's my turn to sit back here and kick the seat." -- Kirsten Wiley My father was completely lost in the kitchen and never ate unless someone prepared a meal for him. When Mother was ill, however, he volunteered to go to the supermarket for her. She sent him off with a carefully numbered list of seven items. Dad returned shortly, very proud of himself, and proceeded to unpack the grocery bags. He had one bag of sugar, two dozen eggs, three hams, four boxes of detergent, five boxes of crackers, six eggplants, and seven green peppers. -- Joan Flood =================================================================== >-->It's All In His Hands .:##:::. .:::::/;;\:. ()::::::@::/;;#;|:. ::::##::::|;;##;|:: ':::::::::\;;;/::' '::::::::::: |O|O|O|O|O|O :#:::::::##::. .:###:::::#:::::. :::##:::::::::::#:. ::::;:::::::::###::. ':::;::###::;::#::::: ::::;::#::;:::::::::: :##:;::::::;::::###::: . .:::::; .:::##:::::::::::::::: ::::::; :::::::::::::::::##:: Dani Is God too busy to be involved with the small decisions in our lives? Though consciously I am aware that He knows and cares about everything that affects me, I often lose sight of that in the daily details of life. All along He reminds me of His care in an unexpected way. A few years ago, my youngest daughter, Lisa (who was 10 at the time), announced that she wanted a dog. Like any sensible parent, I said "no." The next day Lisa came to me again. "I do believe the Lord has a dog for me," she said. "Itıs a few months old and is 3/4 German shepherd and 1/4 Husky." Though we have made it a priority to teach our children to hear God for themselves, somehow I thought that training would be for important things in life, or at least what was important to me. "Lisa, Iım not buying a dog," I said. "Besides, it would be very hard to find a dog like that. End of conversation." The next day, while we were driving in town, Lisa asked if we could just look at the animals at the shelter. "My dog is there," she said. "No," I repeated as we drove back home. The following day, we had occasion to go into town again. During the outing Lisa asked, "Can we at least go and LOOK at the animals?" We had finished shopping, and I like animals, so I said, "OK." I knew that the chances of seeing a 3/4 Shepherd and 1/4 husky puppy was about half a million to one. We got to the shelter and looked at all the cats, birds, weasels and ferrets, and then got to the big dog shed. Loads of dogs in every size and shape, but no 3/4 Shepherd and 1/4 husky ones. I felt quite smug. Then Lisa asked if there was another shed, and the woman who worked there said, "Yes, right through that door." This other place was full of bigger dogs, and I tried to hurry on through. "Mamma, my dog is over there," she said, pointing to the end cage. From where I was, I could hardly see the color, let alone the "make" (and I didn't know what a 3/4 Shepherd, 1/4 husky looked like anyway). I walked to the cage with Lisa, and the lady followed us. "What kind of dog is this?" I asked. "It's 1/4 Husky and 3/4 Shepherd," she said. "When did it come in?" I asked. "About an hour ago a young man brought it in because he had to move into an apartment and wasn't allowed an animal," she said. "He was quite upset and said he had prayed God would bring someone for his dog." By this time I had become quite irritated with the guy who prayed, the dog with the begging eyes, the woman with the information I didn't want to hear, Lisa for being right again, and the Lord for letting all this happen! Clutching one last straw, I asked the women how old the dog was he looked kind of large to me, not a puppy like Lisa had said). "He's six months old," she said. "Is that a puppy?" I asked, still hoping for an "out." "Well, it's not an adult, is it?" she replied. Needless to say, we took the dog home. Lisa and the dog looked very pleased sitting in the back of the car. This story perfectly illustrates a very important point: God cares about everything in our lives--even little things. If He counts the hairs on your head and knows when a sparrow falls, there is nothing in your life that is too unimportant to ask Him about. If you give it to Him, He will take care of even the little things. by Kathie Walters from SpiritLed Woman magazine ---- 1 Peter 5:7 Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you. This is a great verse to keep in mind when you are really stressed by something! Just give it to God! Why? Because He is your Father and He loves you - and 'He Cares For You' :) =================================================================== >-->From InspiredBuffalo: /\ /\ //\\ /\ //\\///\\\ /\ //\\ ///\////\\\\ /\ //\\ /\ / ^ \/^ ^/^ ^ ^ \/^ \/ ^ \ / ^\ /\ / ^ / ^/ ^ ^ ^ ^\ ^/ ^^ \ /^ \ / ^\/ ^ ^ ^ / ^ ^ ^ \/ ^ ^ \ * / ^ ^ \/^ ^\ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ____ ^ ^ \ /|\ / ^ ^ ^ \ ^ _\___________________| |_____^ ^ \ /||o\ / ^^ ^ ^ ^\ /______________________________\ ^ ^ \ /|o|||\ / ^ ^^ ^ ^ /________________________________\ ^ /|||||o|\ /^ ^ ^ ^^ ^ ||___|___||||||||||||___|__||| /||o||||||\ / ^ ^ ^ ^ ||___|___||||||||||||___|__||| | | / ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||oooooooooo| |ooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo >WALKING THE PATH By: Joseph J. Mazzella Growing up in these rugged mountains of West Virginia I have had the joy of walking many trails and paths over the years. There have been ones that went across sun-drenched meadows and there have been ones that went through shady woods. There have been ones next to roaring rivers and there have been ones next to peaceful lakes. There have been ones going uphill and there have been ones going downhill. There have been smooth, grassy ones and there have been ones full of rocks and holes. Still, each one has had its own special delight. I have loved walking along them all too even though I have stumbled and fallen a few times. When it comes to the path of my life, however, I have stumbled and fallen more than just a few times. Actually, I have hit the ground more times than I can count. It hasn't always been a grassy trail over a sun-drenched meadow for me. It has been a path full of twists, turns, rocks, holes, and obstacles as well. I haven't always kept my eyes on the road or my hand in God's either. Still, no matter how many times I have ended up face down in the dirt God has always been there to forgive me and help me back up. I have learned too that it doesn't matter how many times you stumble and fall. It only matters how many times you get back up. Even if you stumble and fall one million times then you need to rise up and try again one million and one. God is always there waiting to forgive you and help you to walk your life's path one more time. I can see too now why God sent me along this path my life has taken. It lead me to where I am now. Without the growth it gave, learning it provided, and even falls it dealt me I would not be who I am today. I plan on continuing down my life's path then doing all the good I can and helping others along the way. I plan on walking it with a smile on my face, a song on my lips, love in my heart, joy in my soul, and my hand firmly in God's. I know it is leading me home. -<>- _ .--'-/] Do You Want O---\ '. Some \__ : Bee Spit? .' :_ ..'._.-----'/ ( '. .'''.: ____'_ '' \ :: [ U ]'. \.' : _/ \__''' __\ (_)Honey | '---' '. '.____.' : : .''. : ''..: :.' : : : .' .'. : snd '..'.....: My mother was the kind of housewife who kept an immaculately clean home, and greeted my Dad at the end of every day with supper ready on the table. When Erma Bombeck wrote about her neighbor, the Super Mom who put her to shame, she must have had my mother in mind. My mother, unfortunately, also suffered from migraine headaches. On those occasional bad days, she would go into her bedroom, close the curtains and the door, and lay on the bed with a cool cloth over her eyes. We knew to be quiet on those days when we came home from school and found her bedroom door shut and the house silent. Dad would know as soon as he walked through the back door that Mom wasn't feeling well. There would be no tantalizing odors from the clean kitchen. The kids would be sitting and waiting for supper. "How about biscuits and gravy?" Dad would ask. It was the only thing my father knew how to cook. Hungry, we would nod our heads in agreement. We have never been able to discover the secret to Dad's biscuits. Nobody else makes them from scratch quite the same way. He would mix up the dough, roll it out and use an overturned drinking glass to cut out the round shapes. Then he'd put them on a cookie sheet and slide them into the oven while he made the gravy. Dad's gravy was fairly passable as cuisine went, but the biscuits were different. Hard and flat, they came out of the oven in the same shape they went in. They never rose up puffy and light like my mother's biscuits. And they were yellow. Not just golden brown on the top, but when we broke one open, it was yellow all the way through. It may have been that Dad confused baking powder with baking soda, or perhaps he ignored both while he was mixing it by hand. One day, my brother watched every move my Dad made during the process and still couldn't determine where he went wrong. "I dunno, Dad. Maybe if you washed your hands first...," my brother murmured. "Where did you learn to make biscuits like this, anyway?" "From your Grandpa, son. It's an old family recipe that he passed on to me." Well, Dad must not have paid enough attention to Grandpa's instructions, because I can tell you that Grandpa's biscuits never looked like that. There's something about a good bowl of gravy, though, that covers a multitude of mistakes. When we poured the gravy over the biscuits, they tasted wonderful. Still, there would be a stack of disc-shaped biscuits left over. "How about a little bee spit with your biscuits?" my Dad would whisper as he pulled a jar of honey from the cupboard. Mom was a stickler about nutrition. She didn't think sugar or sweets were good for growing children. We seldom were treated to cakes, pies or puddings, but Dad always had a jar of clover honey he kept put up out of reach. If gravy was tasty on the biscuits, the golden honey was like heaven. "Why do you call it bee spit?" I once asked. Dad shrugged his shoulders and said he didn't know, that's just what his father always called it. It was another of those family traditions that was passed along. As soon as supper was over, we'd clean the kitchen as well as we could. Then we'd sit around the living room and watch a favorite television show, our stomachs full and our heads light with a sugar buzz. The only clue that we had overindulged in sweets was the sticky spots my mother would find in the kitchen the next day. The other morning at a meal of biscuits and gravy, I heard one of my teenagers say, "Hey, Sis, pass the bee spit, won't you?" I had to laugh. Dad would have been proud. We have, indeed, passed the bee spit along to another generation. But the secret to those biscuits, well, that's another matter entirely! --Pamela Jenkins -<,,>- ~-. ,,,; ~-.~-.~- (.../ ~-.~-.~-.~-.~-. } o~`, ~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-. (/ \ ~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-. ; \ ~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-. ; {_.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~-.~ ;: .-~` ~-.~-.~-.~-.~-. ;.: :' ._ ~-.~-.~-.~-.~- ;::`-. '-._ ~-.~-.~-.~- ;::. `-. '-,~-.~-.~-. ';::::.`''-.-' ';::;;:,:' '||" / | ~` ~"' mic >Papa's Gift By Cookie Potter Papa wasn't smiling that night. He'd been very quiet lately - not his usual jolly self at all. I was only six, but I knew his thoughts were far away from our bedroom where we both sat on Mama and Papa's bed with our backs against the bed pillows. He was reading me a chapter from Wind in the Willows, but he didn't even laugh at the funny places. The chapter over, he sat without speaking for a long time. Finally his mind wandered back through the mists to join me. "Cookie," he said, "I've read or told you a story almost every night for six years. Now it's your turn. You tell me a story and I'll write it down." "Okay," I said after a few minutes. "I think I got one. When I was a little kid about four years old," I began, "Mama and I visited Grandma Cook's farm. Mama and Grandma went into the house, but I stayed out in the yard. It was a very hot day. I was barefoot and liked to feel the cool grass between my toes. All of a sudden I heard a loud 'cock a doodle do.' I turned around and a big red rooster almost as tall as I was stood next to me. He was looking at my feet. He must have thought my toes were something to eat because all of a sudden he stabbed my big toe with his beak. Ouch, it hurt like anything. It felt like a sharp knife had cut me. He got ready to do it again, but I started running. He chased me pecking at my heels. 'Mama, Mama,' I yelled. She heard me and came out of the house. She snatched me up in her arms just as the rooster was going to stab me again. Grandma grabbed a broom and chased him away. I was sure glad I was safe. Mama put medicine on my toes. It stung, but it didn't hurt as much as that rooster's beak, thank goodness." Papa was writing furiously. "Did you get it all?" I asked. "Every bit," he said. "That was a fine story - very scary. What a mean rooster! I'm glad he didn't eat you." "I thought he was going to," I said. Three weeks went by. Papa read to me or told me a story every night, but he still didn't seem as happy as he used to be. One night, as we sat on the bed again, he seemed like his old self. "Have I got a surprise for you?" he said giving me a hug. "Close your eyes." I did, but when I opened them all I saw was a newspaper. "Look closer," he said. I did and there in black letters I recognized my name: Myrtle Cook. "It's your story," said Papa. "This page is called the Junior Page, and it has stories written by children. I sent your story to the editor, Mother Hubbard, and she printed it so other girls and boys could read it." "Honest?" I said. I couldn't believe my eyes. My own story in the paper with my name at the top. I was never so thrilled in all my life. A good thing too, because the following months were very sad. A few days after Papa showed me my story, he didn't come home. Not that day or the next or the next. "Where's Papa?" I'd ask every night. After a few weeks Mama told me. "Papa and I are getting a divorce," she said. "That means he isn't going to live here anymore. He got a new job in a place called Chicago, far away. He loves you very much and wanted to get a job near here, so he could see you all the time, but there weren't any jobs around here. He had to take this job because he needed money to send us for food and clothes." I was heartbroken. How could Papa do this to me? Who would read me stories now? Not Mama. She was too busy working. Even though Papa and I exchanged cards and letters over the years, I never saw him again. I would have grown up thinking Papa didn't love me except for that wonderful thing he did - sending my story to get published. That was the beginning because soon after that I started school, learned to write, and began sending stories myself to the Junior Club page. Almost always they were printed. How could I stay mad at Papa? He gave me the best good-bye gift imaginable. It opened the door for me to enjoy a lifetime of happiness, brought me wonderful excitement, magnified all my days, colored my whole life. I'm eighty-four years old now. I've spent countless marvelous hours, dreaming, composing, plotting, then spending the checks my editors send me. Writing has been my hobby, my vocation, nourishment for my soul. Thank you, Papa, wherever you are. To Subscribe send a blank email to: the-inspired-buffalo-subscribe@yahoogroups.com =================================================================== >-->THE OAK TREE ... * . _ . * . * . * (_) * . |* .. * .. . * \| * ___ . . * * \/ |/ \/{o,o} . _\_\ | / /) )* _/_ * \ \| /,--"-"--- .. _-----` |(,__,__/__/_ . \ || .. ||| . * ||| ejm98 ||| , -=-~' .-^- _ A mighty wind Blew night and day It stole the oak tree's leaves away Then snapped its boughs And pulled its bark Until the oak was tired and stark But still the oak tree held its ground While other trees fell all around The weary wind gave up and spoke How can you still be standing Oak The oak tree said, I know that you Can break each branch of mine in two Carry every leaf away Shake my limbs, and make me sway But I have roots stretched in the earth Growing stronger since my birth You'll never touch them, for you see They are the deepest part of me Until today, I wasn't sure Of just how much I could endure But now I've found, with thanks to you I'm stronger than I ever knew ~Author unknown~ --- Ephesians 3:14-21 "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, That he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fullness of God. 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