Happy Mother's Day Weekend ... :) Shangy! >Here are the details on our Yahoo ShangyFunList: To Subscribe send a blank email to ShangyFunList-subscribe@yahoogroups.com Group home page: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShangyFunList or Web Site: http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/ShangyFunList.html Group email address: ShangyFunList@yahoogroups.com or email me here: bcrsystems@earthlink.net =========================== *~* MAY EVERYONE HAVE A SUPER BLESSED MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND! _,,,_ .' `'. / ____ \ | .'_ _\/ / ) a a| .----. / ( > | /| '--. ( ) ._ / || ]| `-. ) _/-.__.'`\ || ]| ::| ( .-'`-. \__ ) || ]| ::| `/ `-./ `. || ]| ::| _ | \ \ \ \| ]| .-' / \| \ \ \ \ L.__ .--'( | |\ `. / / \ ,---|_ \---------, | `\'. '. /`\ \/ .--._|=- |_ /| | \ '. '._ './`\/ .-' '. / | | | `'. `;-:-;`)| |-./ | | /_ `'--./_ ` )/'-------------')/) | \ | `""""----"`\//`""`/,===..'`````````/ ( | | | / `---` `===' / ) | / \ / / ( | | '------. |'--------------------'| ) | \ `-| | / | `--...,______| YOU | ( | | | | ARE | ) ,| | | | THE | ( /|| | | | BEST | )/ `" / \ | MOM! | (/ jgs .' /I\ '.| | /) .-'_.'/ \'. | God Bless You! | / ``` `"""` `| .-------------------.|| `"` `"` >-->In The 'Shangy' News :) I added 4 new 'Funny' video files in our group here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShangyFunList/files/ -<>- Updated The Fun URLS Here: http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/urls.html -<>- If You Haven't Already, .=. //"\\ (/6 6\) )\ = /( Visit These Pages (_ ) ( _) / `\_/` \ / (_ @ _) \ and Think of Your Mom \ \)___(/ / \/ \/ | | | | |_____| ||| ||| / Y \ `"`"` HERO http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/hero.html Give Me Flowers http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/poems/flowers.html Kids Being Kids http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/kids.html Mini Baby Art http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/baby.html Cost Of A Child http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/costofchild.html Love Thoughts http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/love.html Miracle Baby - Smell Of Rain http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/smellofrain.html *~* As Always, PLEASE PASS THESE ON - Thank You! *~* =============================================================== .-=-. /.-=-.\ ||_____|| A Woman's Work is Never Done ||. .|| || || / |\_-_/| \ / |=====| \ | |\_._/| | jgs `--.| T |.--' >Three Penny Momma Story Editor: by Don L. Creacy Joyce Schowalter Kentucky, USA The year was 1958 and I was seven years old when I first met my Momma. It's not important how we three children fell into the child-care system, nor how we came to live at that orphanage. Simply stated, the man our birth Mother had run off with didn't want to raise three hungry children after she was killed in a car accident. So there we were. I vividly remember holding each sister's hand through a chain link fence: separated on the boys' and girls' sides. It remains important that we three children stayed close. One day they got us all "fixed up" and took us to the courthouse to see the Judge. To insure good behavior, the social worker gave me three pennies for the gumball machine... "if we were good." When we arrived they walked us right past the gumball machine and, to our great joy, into a room with our biological Dad. The Judge told me, as the oldest, that if I wanted, we could go with our Dad and the new Momma he had for us. I looked her over, a large sweet-smelling, pillowy woman in a flowery dress. I reached into my pocket, pulled out those three pennies and asked her, "If I give you these three pennies will you take care of them?" Somehow she understood I meant a different kind of question. She replied, "Yes Honey, I will." I turned to the Judge and told him we would go with her. ____ _ .-;\)___\ |_| \_/ ,---\ | | / _/ e e \_/ _%&&%%&_ |(` >| ___T__\______/__ \| =/ '====\\\ ^/====='_/ ,--' `\ \ .'`._ ( \ \ / ``\ \ \/ / ) ) \`'._/ -'.-'\ \__/ / \-'\______ /._'-./ \ ___`'-. /` | '-.\ '--`` /-\\\ /` / | ( ) | / / | \ (-------------- / '-._ | /'-.'# # # # `._ `'-._/ /#__#__#__#__#__ ;";-..__ | | # # # # # ; | |``-' |# # # # # / ;\ | |__#__#__#__#__#__ .' / / / || || jgs /' .' | | || || / .' | | || || ,| / \ | || || \\\/( (`-/\__ || \__`\ [_--.__\ || For the next twenty-five years she cooked and cleaned and slung hash at the Calico Kitchen all night long only to come to three more hungry mouths. She wasn't perfect, I don't know anyone who is, but she raised and reared us when necessary. Finally, we were all three out of the house and married and raising families of our own. Life was good. Then Dad chose to leave with another woman. We kids were devastated. I wanted to show Momma my support, love, and appreciation for all her gifts and sacrifices. I wrote her a letter and told her that no matter what happened or what anyone else in the world did, she would always be our Momma. To emphasize my point, I taped three shiny new pennies into a card and sent it to her. She called. "I don't need three pennies to remember you children. Besides, I still have the first three." That was fifteen years ago. Momma died this spring, we buried her on Good Friday, but because of her, we will never again be motherless children. As we sorted her things out, I opened her jewelry box drawer. There in tiny individual plastic bags, lay three pennies, dated 1957, 1957, and 1958. I have them in my pocket at this moment. No one will ever make a movie or write a book about her, but to me and my sisters, she is the world's best Three Penny Momma. =======HerpicStories======= >-->From Our Friend Tony In Australia :) .-. //-\\ )\_/( /\_/\ ||_:_|| ||):(|| Because Every Woman Needs To hear .... (/ \) | | |___| ||| jgs (/ \) "For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast." Eph. 2:8–9. There have been lots of ‘debates’ as to whether this verse means that it is ‘grace’, ‘salvation’ or faith that is the Gift of God, but it’s really a pointless argument, as long as we can understand that our lives in Christ, are miracles, and miracles only come from God. God paid the down payment and He will balance the account. We are saved by His grace and not by our own actions…. Br Tony --- ...So True Tony. The verse along with verses around it are talking about being saved. The main idea is that salvation is our gift. It is important or you have people like in other countries doing horrible self sacrifice things like climbing jagged rocks in their bare feet and literally hurting themselves to prove themselves 'worthy' like here http://abcnews.go.com/2020/GlobalWarming/story?id=3030935&page=1 .-. .-. .-. (/^\) .-. (/^\) / \ (\ /) //^\\ )\ /( \/"\/ .-'-. (_\ /_) (.-'-.) '\_/' We'll Spread The /(_,_)\ .-'-. /\_ _/\ .-' '-. \\) (// /\_ _/\ \\)_(// |\_ _/| GOOD NEWS! / \ \\) (// /---\ \\)_(// | | / \ | | / \ "by grace ye are saved" |___| | | |_|_| | | | /|\ |___| | | | | | | \|/ \|/ |_|_| |_|_| jgs /Y\ /Y\ /Y\ /_T_\ FOR GOD tells us that we cannot buy or do enough good works to gain our salvation it is a gift. All we have to do is have faith - like it says it is through faith [believing] and not of ourselves... Romans 10:9 "That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." Visit here for some great Audio and text Teachings on Salvation: http://www.truthortradition.com/modules.php?name=News&new_topic=35 Also See: The Mystery Revealed http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/mysteryrevealed.html The Simplicity AND Grace Of The New Birth http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/newbirth.html God's Chosen http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/godscalling.html Christian Position In Christ http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/christianposition.html =================================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: sSSSSSSs SSS'\\\\SS SSS` - -'SS SS(, a \a S SSSSS -' |S 'SSS\ '= /S/| 'S|`-. __.' / | .-'| `-.__.' .-\ / /-. | | { _/ \_ } | | `| | | | | '. | | .' jgs '-.| |.' `"` >THE FAMILY STRENGTH by Michael T. Smith I saw my future in-laws on rare occasions. The 760 miles between Montreal and Halifax prevented us from being together more than twice a year. Our meetings were few, but it was clear to see -- I would have no use for mother-in-law jokes -- she was pure gold. I loved her instantly. My father-in-law was more of a challenge. Behind his serious manner, he attempted to hide a soft heart. Few grew close enough to see his tenderness. I like to think I was one of those who did. They'd been through a lot in their lives. They immigrated to Canada during the Hungarian revolution. With two young girls in tow, they crossed the heavily guarded border into Austria and immigrated to a country they knew little about. They sought peace and found it in Canada. My mother-in-law suffered with cancer for many years, and although it was in remission, we knew her time was short. During one visit, as we left their hotel room on the night before their departure, I glanced back to see her standing in the hall, staring after us. Her look of sorrow brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. I knew what she thought, "Will this be the last time?" I stopped my wife and made her wait as I walked the distance to that small woman and hugged her tight. "Mom," I whispered, "You hang in there. Come back for the wedding. I want you here." The day of the wedding was hectic but joyous. Georgia and I stood face-to-face as we said our vows. There was a tremble in my voice as I said mine. After we were pronounced man and wife, I hugged my new bride, took her arm and walked her down the aisle and into our future. My mother-in-law said later, "I could hear it in your voice. I know you meant every word you said." At the reception we sat at the center of the head table, as there were numerous calls for us to show signs of affection. A spoon would strike the side of a glass. Across the room, another would join in. The clattering of spoons to glasses grew, until Georgia and I rose to our feet and kissed tenderly. It was time for speeches. When it was my turn, I stood, turned, faced my new father-in-law, and raised my glass in the air. "Tibor, thank you! I thank you for your courage. Many years ago, you made a decision to flee your homeland, cross a guarded border, and make your home in Canada. This lady beside me was born in a far-away country but now sits beside me as my wife. It was your strength and courage that made this possible." With a trembling voice, I continued, "Tibor, thank you for giving me your daughter." The room was quiet, except for muffled sobs. I returned to my seat and wiped the tears from my eyes. The afternoon flew by. We danced, hugged, and excepted words of encouragement. At one point during the festivities, I managed to find my mother-in-law alone. I crouched beside her chair and said, "Mom, you made it. I'm so glad you're here." She hugged me, "Michael, I'm very happy. All I ever wanted, was to see Georgia settled. Today saw it happen. I can go in peace." "Mom, hang in there." I said. "I want you to see your grandchildren." She looked at me doubtfully. "I'm happy now. I don't expect to see my grandchildren." I reached out, pulled her to me, and whispered in her ear, "Mom, you will. I just know it." My mother-in-law did live to see her granddaughter. Thirteen months later our daughter was born. She came and held her, as tears spilled down her cheeks. Within a year, she passed on and lives forever in our hearts and memories. My wife, Georgia, passed away October 10th, 2003. She is with her mom now. Two moms together for eternity. Happy Mother's Day to my mom, my mother-in-law, Georgia -- the mother of my children, my new wife Ginny, and to all the moms reading this story. Mothers are the strength behind great families. I've been blessed with some great ones. -- Michael T. Smith ____________________________________________ Michael lives with his wife and their children and their grandchildren in Fort Lee, New Jersey. You can read more of his stories here: http://archives.zinester.com/86758 ===================================================================== @@@ // \\ / \_/ \ / ./_(-.\ ( / \\ )|| @/ // ) / @>@<@/ ( '-.;)@\ \.-' | | | | | | | `'. | `'-. / '-.. | . .. '-.__ jgs |.' .' .'.'__;.--'--.-' `"-----'"` >-->Motherhood....It Will Change Your Life We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says, half joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on the weekend, no more spontaneous vacations..." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in child birth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think about her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the ways she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she'll feel with women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand, and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of being a Mother. --Author Unknown ======================================================================= >-->From InspiredBuffalo: _ .-' '-. / \ |,-,-,-,-,| ___ | _)_(_ | (/ \) | _\_/_ /) / \_/ \// MY NANNY By: Joseph J. Mazzella |( )\/ ||)_( |/ \ n| | / \ | |_|___| \|/ jgs _/L\_ There is an old Cherokee expression that goes, "When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice." Well, I know one Italian lady who lived up to that Cherokee saying. My grandmother or Nana came into this world in Italy right after the turn of the 20th century. In 1914 when she was only 8 years old her family braved German U-boat attacks to travel to America. There she grew up, married, and lovingly raised four sons. Then she helped to raise me and my brothers as well. I can still remember coming home after school to my Nanny’s old house. The dinners always smelled so wonderful. She always gave me a big Italian hug before dinner too with a smile on the side and a kiss for dessert. In the summers she would take her cooking skills across the road to work at the local 4-H camp. The campers would always give her and the other cooks a standing ovation at the last meal. I would sometimes sneak into the kitchen at work to grab a roll and a quick hug before going off to play. Nanny would always slip me a quarter to buy a pop as well. Nanny also had her tougher side. She had a temper. She could yell with the best of them. When people stole the dandelion wine she had sitting in the sun one day she taught us all a few Italian words and phrases that we hadn’t heard. Still, she always led with her heart and shared her love freely with family, friends, and strangers alike. She lived to be over 90 years old but died way too soon. We all cried when she died, but I know that Heaven rejoiced at getting her back. A part of her, though, is still living here in the hearts and minds of those she left behind. My Nanny had a wonderful life here. She lived. She loved. She laughed. She cooked, cared, and cried. She touched a lot of hearts. She made her grandson smile and she made God smile as well. May we all do the same. May we all live glorious lives of love worth rejoicing. -<>- Why God Made Little Girls God made the world with its towering trees, majestic mountains and restless seas, then paused and said, "It needs one more thing." Someone to laugh and dance and sing, to walk in the woods and gather flowers, to commune with nature in quiet hours. So God made little girls with laughing eyes and bouncing curls, with joyful hearts, and beautiful smiles, enchanting ways and feminine wiles. And when He'd completed the task He'd begun, he was pleased and proud of the job He'd done. For the world when seen through a little girl's eyes greatly resembles paradise. -<>- >FANTASTIC LIFE FORCE By: Joseph J. Mazzella God in His infinite wisdom and wonderful love always seems to find a way to share His glorious ideas with my weak and limited mind. I found one such idea staring up at me as I was walking in a nearby town today. It was one of those miraculous out of the blue insights that I no longer question, but just give thanks for instead. What I saw as I walked down the sidewalk was a beautiful sight, but one that is so often ignored by so many of us. It was a single dandelion sticking though the pavement, delightedly holding its head in the sunshine. What a wondrous life force it must have taken for that tiny, fragile flower to make it through all of those layers of concrete. Still, there it stood triumphing in the energy, vitality, and joy of its existence. That is when I heard the gentle whisper of God's voice in my mind saying that I too have that life force and that everyone of us here on this world has it as well. I can remember how that life force flowed through my Mom as she battled cancer in the last four years of her life. During that time she always sought to comfort all of us who loved her. She shared her kind love, her sweet laughter, and her infectious joy with everyone she met. She lived more in those last four years than many people do in their entire lives. In spite of the tons of pavement that she had to break through, she still bloomed and shared the glorious fragrance of her life and love with us all. This fantastic life force doesn't just live in dandelions or special souls like my Mom's, however. It is here in the hearts, souls, bodies, and minds of all of us. It is a gift from God given with love to everyone. Don't waste it then. Use it, draw upon it, and feel it flowing through your life. Let it flow through your every smile, hug, laugh, and word. Shine it brightly from your soul. Fill your life with its love and joy. And share its wonder with the world. -<>- >Another Mother's Son by Mary G. Lodge as told to Laura Lagana .---------. _ |:: [-=-] | | | |_________| Sick From Sorrow And Grief |~| / |_| ,;;;, ,;;, I\ ,__//`\\\\__, / `\ I |{ // - - \\ } / '' ) I | ) \\_ = _// ( \_- __/ I |{___'-) (-'___}\____)-( I ||~/,'~~~~~,\~~|'---./ \ I \ // \\ | | \ \ I \/ // | \__/-/ I (/ (/ | |/|| I | | || / I | | || | I :-----_o_-----: || | I | /~~|===|~~\ | || | jgs I || |===| || ||_| /^\ "~ '^^^' "" ((__| When my beloved 18-year-old son was murdered in 1996, I thought my life was over. When it finally sunk in that this vivacious child of mine was dead, I felt as if I were having a heart attack from head to toe. I was numb. In order to survive this twisted nightmare, l moved to a different level of consciousness. During the trial, I wasn't allowed to speak to Robbie's murderer. On the day of the hearing, I got my first glimpse of Shawn. He stared at the floor as they led him into the dimly lit courtroom. Shadows masked his face, distorting his features, giving him a grotesque fiendish appearance. Although it was my decision not to take the stand, I made it clear to the judge that I wanted to speak with this evil perpetrator after his sentencing. At the conclusion of the arduous proceedings, the judge summoned me to his chambers. Filled with rage and hatred, I followed the bailiff into a small, paneled office. My heart beat faster with each step as I prepared to meet the young man who took my son's life. Shawn stood in the corner, head down, crying like a baby. His hands and feet shackled; this trembling, pitiful 20-year-old wore little more than baggy orange prison garb. As I watched this boy, so forlorn-no parents, no friends and no support-all I saw was another mother's son. Suddenly I found myself asking, "Can I give you a hug, Shawn?" He looked up, revealing a childlike face stained with tears and nodded his consent. The bailiff motioned me toward the prisoner. I walked over and put my arms around him. "I forgive you for this horrible thing you've done. I will pray for you every day that you're in prison. I would rather my Robbie be where he is than where you're going." Our eyes connected for a few moments, and then the bailiff escorted me from the room. Shawn received a 20-to-40-year sentence. How do you compare that to the life of my son? No sentence could bring Robbie back. I still wonder what made Shawn commit this crime. He has given me several explanations, but I still don't have an answer. He has been in prison for five years now, and, so far, I'm his only visitor. Shawn's sentencing has given me no satisfaction, but I believe the compassion I felt in the judge's chamber that day was a gift from God. Because of the abrupt changes in my life, I'm now part of a prison ministry. I know I could not heal the deep, dark places of hatred and revenge, imbedded within my heart and soul, had I not forgiven my son's murderer. Forgiveness has set me free. Hatred and revenge won't bring back my beloved son, Robbie, but Shawn is someone's son too. The hatred has to stop somewhere. What better place to begin than with me? -<>- >FAMILY DAY _..._ .'`_{@},`'. / .' *{@}. \ |/ \| ||_._._._._|| | |=(. .)=| | Mom & Dad ROCK! ) | ^ | ( _ /\_/ \ '-' / \_| \ | .-`'---'`-. \` | \ |===========| / / '/ \|=======|/\/ / /\|\___/ / |======/ \ / \__.____/ /-o---'\ `` , .-'/ /..--'| ; ( .--' ; | '. /-.-, \ '. / | \ \ ;. ; | < jgs | \'._ / \ / / / \ ` `'-' '-._____.' /___..-| \___/\_/ Although Mother's Day and Father's Day are not even in the same month, I agree with Marion Hays who states that she wishes they were celebrated on the same day and that the emphasis and attention would be on family day. The foundation of the home has an overseer, the mother, (especially In infancy and early childhood) and it also has a co architect, the father, Who contributes much. Actually, Mother's Day has been celebrated yearly on the second Sunday in May since Congress passed a law in 1914 to that effect. In 1908, Anne Jarvis, of Philadelphia, had asked to arrange a church service in honor of her mother's birthday. There are many stories of women throughout history who have left permanent marks on countless lives. We recall Mary, the mother of Jesus, many Puritan mothers in early America, Abraham Lincoln's mother, of whom he said, "All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother," and of course we can't forget Mother Teresa of India. There are phrases in both Kings and Chronicles which say: "...And his mother was..." and this is usually followed by the phrase, "...and he did that which was good in the sight of the Lord" or "...and he did that which was evil in the sight of the Lord." In placing the name of a king's mother and the evaluation of his reign side by side, the Hebrews showed how powerful they regarded the role of a mother. Many things have been written about mothers. Henry Ward Beecher, _._ .' '. | / //\\\ \ | ( ( -\- ) ) | '-\_=_/-' // .-'\ /'-. (|/ / '-' \ / / "The mother's heart is the child's classroom." | \__ __/_/\/ /| | |\ / \ / \ \ \ '-' `\/\ ; |/|\ | | | | | | | |_______| | | | \ | / jgs /=|=\ (_/T\_) But the co architect, the father, is also of extreme importance. In "The Family Circus" by Bill Keane, there was a picture of two small boys. One of the boys said, "I'm a real super hero. I'm Daddy." Douglas S. Freeman, noted biographer of General Robert E. Lee, tells that once on a snowy day, General Lee went walking with his son, Curtis. Lee soon noticed that his son was doing his best to walk in his father's tracks in the snow. Dr. Freeman writes: "Lee told one of his friends long afterward, 'When I saw this, I said to myself that it behooved me to walk very straight when this fellow is already following in my tracks." Dr. Len Broughton was once pastor of the City Temple in London. He Was asked if he agreed that the source of Briton's strength was its navy. Dr. Broughton said, "No, I think the source of Briton's strength is the British home." .-. ,-"""-, / \__ \ | / `\ | \( ^.^ )/ \ - / .-'|;---;|-. HOME Is Where The Heart Is (\/ ||___|| `\ \\__/ \__| MOM And DAD = LOVE! C|`----`|D __//| | | |====( | | | | _/_/___.---- .===| |====\ /===. | ('------') ( '----' ) | jgs | | Home is the bulwark of a free society. We need to have great Concern about the moral and spiritual foundations of the home. One of the things young people shy away from in the home is discipline, yet unconsciously they crave it, and are insecure and dissatisfied without it. An elderly woman, when asked how she had raised her children, said: "I just made sure they got everything that was coming to them, whether it was good or bad." A Black mother, a widow, was named Mary. She would often comment to her children, "Stop that shufflin' when you walk" or "Pick up your feet and lift up your head like your Pa always done." When the children started to school, she urged them to make their time count so that they might "grow up to amount to something like your Pa did." When the girls began to have beaus, they were cautioned to remember their Pa, and not to "come traipsin' in at daylight with some no-count loafer." After many years of hearing this, someone finally asked Mary what Pa did in this life. Mary laughed. "That man never worked nothin' but his jaws! But when he up and left me, back in Atlanta, I made up my mind he wasn't goin' to skip out free. He was goin' help me raise these young uns somehow! And he did." Young people need love and attention also. A young man came up for trial in a criminal court. The judge, moved by his youth, asked his name. "Ohendorfer." "Where is your home?" "Chattanooga." "There is a book in my library called EQUITY written by a man named Ohendorfer. Is he a relation of yours, by any chance?" "He is my father." The judge said, "All lawyers should know and respect that book." The boy said bitterly, "My father spent his life writing that book. He never paid much attention to his children." It is indeed sad that young Ohendorfer didn't hear his dad pray. The following is by an unknown author. When Father prays he doesn't use the words a preacher does; There's different things for different days, but mostly it's for us. When Father prays the house is still, his voice is slow and deep, We shut our eyes, the clock ticks loud, so quiet we must keep. He prays that we may be good boys, and later on good men; And then we squirm, and think we won't have any quarrels again. You'd never think, to look at Dad, he once had tempers, too. I guess if Father needs to pray, we youngsters surly do. Sometimes the prayer gets very long and hard to understand, An then I wiggle up quite close to Dad and let him hold my hand. I can't remember all of it, I'm little yet, you see; But one thing I cannot forget, my Father prays for me. Someone wrote: "The best influence a father can leave his children is a good example." Every store window, newspaper and national magazine in America will be parading gift ideas for you father and/or mother before your eyes before the two special days for them. Edgar A. Guest, years ago, wrote a poem about giving your Dad a gift. It follows: What I Want I don't want a pipe and I don't want a watch. I don't want cigars or a bottle of Scotch. I don't want a thing your money can buy. I don't want a shirt or a four-in-hand tie. If you really would make this old heart of mine glad, I just want to know you're still fond of your Dad. You women folk say, and believe it I can "It's so terribly hard to buy things for a man! And from all that I've heard I am sure it must be. Well, I don't want you spending your money on me. I just want to know you're still fond of your Dad. Get on with your shopping; give others the stuff! For me just a hug and a kiss are enough! It is my hope that the family will always be in the center of our emphasis and attention. -<>- LINKS: Annoying http://www.buffalosjokes.com/22624.htm Beautiful http://www.buffalosjokes.com/22625.htm Snow Fight http://www.buffalosjokes.com/22621.htm Milk http://buffalosjokes.com/80331.htm To Subscribe send a blank email to: the-inspired-buffalo-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ================================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: THE LITTLE WHITE CHURCH by Diane Dean White It doesn't matter where I live when May comes calling with colorful flowers, the newness of springtime, and the soon to be Mother's Day celebration. I'm happily transported back to a small town in Michigan and a little white church on Main Street. Although we lived in the city, each Mother's Day weekend we'd make the trip to my grandparent's home for the annual Mother and Daughter Banquet at the church where my mother, grandparents and their parents before them had attended. My mother would bring a basket of spring flowers, either home grown or bought at the City Market, and colored ribbons with accessories. While grandmother prepared a covered dish, we'd make corsages for my great-grandmother, her twin sister, my grandmother, and one for my mother and a smaller one for me. My youngest recollection of going to the little white church where all the tables were covered in nice cloths and spring violet plants was the age of 5, and I had a new pair of black paten leather shoes for the occasion. The women were so nice and laughed, complimented one another on their dresses -- especially on their covered dishes as each lady made something she was most proud of to take to the banquet. By the time I was 8, I had the song "M O T H E R" memorized and sung it with pride. Gifts wrapped so pretty were given to the oldest mother in attendance, and often that would be my great-grandmother. When I became the mother of a daughter, we often attended the same banquet when time allowed. At that time, my great-grandmother was in her heavenly home, and now my grandmother was the oldest of four generations. As I got older, my own church or community activities would require my participation in the city, but we always tried to make a trip to be with grandma for the banquet. I've attended various Mother and Daughter banquets over the years and I've chaired many of them in my home church. However, there was something special about going to grandma's knowing this was such an old tradition for so many years, even before I was around. The years progressed and catering replaced the wonderful covered dish dinners. I often ordered the corsages for all of us, and again recognition was given to four generations, and a nice plant to grandma. In 1995, the day before the Mother and Daughter Banquet, grandma quietly passed away at my parent's home where she had been living. She was 91. It was Mother's Day weekend. So many thoughts raced through my mind and we made the trip to the town where the little white church that meant so much over the years was located. In lieu of flowers we asked for donations to be given to the church, in memory of grandma. Somehow I knew she would have wanted it that way. Distance and family living in various states make it hard to get together for Mother's Day now. But how I would enjoy a trip back, with mom now 82, and my daughter and three young grand-gals. I miss those years when the yummy covered dish dinners and little violet plants were so simple and nice, and whenever I hear the song "MOTHER," memories come alive of a little white church where we enjoyed so many banquets together in celebration of Mother's Day. ___ .' '. / / \ |___/'._| || . . || ( ) ) |\ = /| ) '._.' ( ;--' _ '--; / (_) \ | < | > | \ '._|_.' / jgs_'.__/___\__.'_ | | | | | "M O T H E R" | | | M is for the million things she gave me, O means only that she's growing old. T is for the tears she shed to save me, H is for her heart of purest gold. E is for her eyes of love-light shining, R is right and right she'll always be! Put them all together they spell Mother, the word that means the world to me. by Howard Johnson, 1915 -- Diane Dean White ____________________________________________ Diane is a columnist, freelance writer and author of two books. She is married to Stephen and they reside on the Carolina Coast. They are the parents of three grown children and three grand-gals. You can visit Diane's website and see more of her work at http://www.DianeDeanWhite.com ==================================================================== >-->A Mother For those who are lucky to still be blessed with your Mom, this is beautiful. For those who have lost their mothers, this is even more beautiful. I received this from my long time (since I was 2) friend Darla and her friend Lucy in New Jersey, I knew the moment I read it, that I wanted to share it today. (Submitted by NancyF 10/3/05): The young mother set her foot on the path of life. ,{{}}}}}}. {{{{{}}}}}}}. {{{{ {{{{{}}}} }}}}} _ _ {{{{{ }}}} m m }}}}} {{{{C ^ {{{{{ }}}}}}\ '=' /}}}}}} {{{{{{{{;.___.;{{{{{{{{ "Is this the long way?" she asked. }}}}}}}}}) (}}}}}}}}}} {{{{}}}}}': :{{{{{{{{{{ {{{}}}}}} `@` {{{}}}}}}} {{{{{{{{{ }}}}}}}}} }}}}}}}} {{{{{{{{{ jgs {{{{{{{{ }}}}}} }}}}} {{{{ {{{ }} And God answered her "Yes, this way is hard, and you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning." But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, she fed them and bathed them, taught them how to tie their shoes and ride a bike, and reminded them to feed the dog and do their homework and brush their teeth. The sun shone on them and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this." Then the nights came, and the storms and the path was sometimes dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her arms and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come." And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children, a little patience and we are there." So the children climbed and as they climbed they learned to weather the storms. And with this, she gave them strength to face the world. Year after year she showed them compassion, understanding, and hopes, but most of all...unconditional love. And when they reached the top they said, "Mother, we would not have done it without you." The days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old and she became little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. And the mother, when she lay down at night, looked up at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned so much and are now passing these traits on to their children." And when the way became rough for her, they lifted her, and gave her their strength, just as she had given them hers. One day they came to a hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And Mother said: "I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk with dignity and pride, with their heads held high, and so can their children after them." And the children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates." And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said: "We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A Mother is more than a memory. She is a living presence. Your Mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, she's the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick and perfume that she wore, she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well, she's your breath in the air on a cold winters day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is your birthday morning. Your Mother lives inside your laughter and she's crystallized in every tear drop. A mother shows every emotion...happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrows - all the while hoping and praying you will only know the good feelings in life. She's the place you came from, your first home, and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space, not even death! ===================================================================== >-->Place To Net Visit :) >From JibJab: Mom: The Untold Story We all know that moms are amazing. But you probably weren't aware of the all out awesomeness that is Mom. Starring You(r Mom)! http://lyradmin.jibjab.com/t/29422903/118751910/76453/0/ World's Greatest Mother Rousing fanfare and grand parades, that's the way to say "Happy Mother's Day!". Now you can, by making her the star of this 1940s newsreel! http://lyradmin.jibjab.com/t/29422903/118751910/76456/0/ -<>- >From LynnLynn's Links: John w/ If I Could Hear My Mother Pray Again http://heavens-gates.com/gospel/hearmotherpray/ The Last Letter http://youngwithin.co.uk/lastletter.html Beautiful Dixie http://mybeautifulamerica.com/BeautifulDixie.htm Judy w/ Mothers Day Poem http://frommyheart2u.com/moms/mothersdaypoem The Lost Jungle Games http://www.lostjungle.com/ GasPrices By Zip Code Via Sue http://autos.msn.com/everyday/gasstations.aspx?zip=&src=Netx Polo http://www.buffalosjokes.com/82319.htm Chaplin http://www.buffalosjokes.com/22610.htm Non Smoker Revenge http://www.buffalosjokes.com/112499.htm Nothing Like A Good Book http://www.buffalosjokes.com/1124100.htm If You haven't joined LynnLynn's mailing List yet, send a blank e-mail to LynnLynns-links-subscribe@Yahoogroups.com ================================================================== "I've learned that I wish I could have told my mom that I love her one more time before she passed away." -- Andy Rooney ---> Visit my CyberHome - ALWAYS OPEN HOOUSE :)Shangy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/index.html Shangrala ------------------------------------------------------------------------ -->Bigham's Computer Rescue - PC Sales && Service You can trust us to provide you with quality computer sales and repair. We've been servicing the Van Wert area since 1981 and can help you with all your computer needs. Please phone us at 419-238-5806 ************************************************************************ -->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 ************************************************************************ >TO SUBSCRIBE: This Weeks regular Shangy emails OR Send a BLANK email to ShangyFunList-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ************************************************************************