Healing Waters And More... :) Shangy! >Here are the details on our Yahoo ShangyFunList: To Subscribe send a blank email to ShangyFunList-subscribe@yahoogroups.com To UnSubscribe send a blank email to ShangyFunList-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Group home page: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShangyFunList Through no fault of my own we suddenly became an adult club in the love and romance directory so you will have to confirm that you are an adult when you go here. I still have no idea how to change this back as it sends me around in a circle when I try! or Web Site: http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/ShangyFunList.html Group email address: ShangyFunList@yahoogroups.com or email me here: bcrsystems@earthlink.net ================ *~* A REMINDER: PLEASE Send me sweet, interesting, funny, inspiring, family type forwards ANY TIME here... bcrsystems@earthlink.net I Need them, Love them, Use them, and Share them! THANK YOU!! ================ "We are each of us angels with but one wing, and can only fly by embracing each other" -Luciano Decrescenzo ~ CALLING ALL CARING ANGELS ~ _._ _._ |||| |||| ||||_ ___ _|||| | || .-'___`-. || | \ / .' .'_ _'. '. \ / /~~| | (| b d |) | |~~\ /' | | | ' | | | `\ , /__.-: ,| | `-' | |, :-.__\ , |'-------( \-''""/.| /\___/\ |.\""''-/ )------'| | \_.-'\ / '-._____.-' \ /'-._/ | |.---------\ /'._| _ .---. === |_.'\ /--------.| ' \ / | |\_\ _ \=v=/ _ | | \ / ' `. | | \_\_\ ~~~ (_) | | .' `'"'|`'--.__.^.__.--'`|'"'` \ / `,..---'"'---..,' :--..___..--: TO INFINITY... \ / |`. .'| AND BEYOND! | :___: | | | | | | | | | |.-.| |.-.| |`-'| |`-'| | | | | / | | \ |_____| |_____| ':---:-'-:---:' / | | \ jgs /.---.| |.---.\ `.____; :____.' *~* WE NEED CARING And SHARING Angels For 2011 *~* >Do You Want To Be A Shangrala Angel? If you'd like to help and be counted as a 2011 Shangrala Angel, please visit the site and click on the donate button. A Secure PAYPAL page comes up. Any amount is greatly appreciated and needed! PLEASE Visit Shangrala to Help: http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/index.html OR If you'd rather send us a donation, Please MAIL it here: Elrhea Bigham 502 S. Harrison Van Wert, OH 45891 *~* THANK YOU! MAY GOD BLESS ALL OUR ANGELS MOST ABUNDANTLY! ================ ,--.,-"";-"-. .-;-/ / / .- `\ .-. ` ( ' ' ` ; `\/ \ \ / \ / (. C . ) | .-. | | _ / (` / | \ /}| | )(\ | `-> (____.| / ||| / \=====| | |\| | |====| \ _/ ` \__/=====| |` `-'======| \ |=======/ | |=======| | .--, ########\ |/ / jgs |_|__|| ` `--. ,---;-'--'\ `--. `---`-------'-.___,___.---' >-->Mental Health And God - Just so you know :) 2 Tim. 1: [7] For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. POWER, LOVE, SOUND MIND - ALL are things we can claim through Christ Jesus our Lord because - they are already 'given' to us. Thank GOODNESS For That, Huh? Praise God! -<>- *~* We've Had An Excellent Month Of Caring And Sharing! .----. _.'__ `. .--(#)(##)---/#\ .' @ /###\ : , ##### `-..__.-' _.-\###/ jgs `;_: `"' .'"""""`. /, JOE ,\ // COOL! \\ `-._______.-' ___`. | .'___ (______|______) Be Sure To Visit And Pass These On To Your Friends And Family: Truth In Advertising! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/ads.html Microscopic! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/micro.html Why Me? Moments! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/whyme.html Funny, Isn't It? http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/funny.html A Love Story! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/lovestory.html ID Theft 3! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/identitytheft3.html Ladies Unleashed! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/ladies.html Animal Friends! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/animalfriends.html Limos In History! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/limos.html Ice Sculpture Art 2! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/ices2.html Empire Building! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/empire.html *~* SPECIAL THANKS AND HUGS TO ALL OUR ANGELS AND CONTRIBUTORS! --- You Put Some Spark In Our Lives --- =============================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: _ ,="` `""=, o / ' ,=="""'=; , __ ~ /.: ,--'/=,) o \`\\"._ _, | .='/ <9(9.=" / _ |||;._//) / .:' (J ^\ \ o_/@ @ /// |=( .' .' \ '='/ '-. ( (`__, ,`\| / .' / \`-;_ . ' \ '.\_/ |\_.' ~ / | ' /` _ \ ::' ) `""``` | , .' ; /`\/ `\ \.::'/.-._///_ |/ ' \_,\__/\ \.-'.'----'` \| '. \ \ /`-, ~ `\ '.' _.-'\ (`-` .' `-.-' _.-')__./,--'` .--'`,-'`'""` ` \ /`"`-` :' ::' | ~ | .: .::' :: ::' / ~ | .:' .-'__ .:: .' \ ;'"` `""----'` \ .'\ '. `\ jgs ):' `-. ~ / :..:' `-._ | :' , `-, ~ \ .' `''----` `.( ` >HEALING WATERS by Stefanie Wass "Do you swim?" The neurologist's question caught me off guard. Unexplained back pain plus a strange tingling sensation in my right foot, brought me to our family doctor, then alarmingly, to this specialist. "Well, no. I mean, I can swim, but it has been years." "It really is the best thing for your back." Stalling, I opted for on-land physical therapy sessions, which of course did little to alleviate the numbness in my toes. Who knew that a herniated back disc could affect the feet? "You really should try swimming," the therapist reiterates. "It can do wonders for injuries like yours." * * * Flip-flops squeaking against the wet tile floor, towel in one arm, goggles perched upon my head, I scan the pool deck for a free lap lane. Looking down at my faded Lands' End suit, the one with the little white elastic pieces sticking out of the inseam, I feel everyone's eyes upon me. A thirty-something mom, my exercise regime involves breathless morning sprints to the bus stop. But competition-style lap swimming? I think not. Sure, I know how to swim, but splashing around with my kids on a sultry summer afternoon is just not the same as this -- a 9am plunge into freezing water on a sub-zero February morning. So here I stand poolside, a deer in the headlights, wanting to flee, yet paralyzed by the imagined stares of the other "real" swimmers. Again I am a shy grade schooler, always picked last for the kickball team. Her report card is excellent as always, but there is just one unsatisfactory mark -- physical education. Again, I am an awkward teenager, hitting the volleyball into, rather than over, the net. Again, I am an aspiring teenaged figure skater, full of grace, but lacking the technique needed for any real success. Just Do It! The cliched Nike slogan pops into my foggy brain, pushed there perhaps by some gentle prodding from a fellow swimmer, stopping mid-workout to smile my way. "You are welcome to share this lane with me. The pool is awfully crowded this time of day." Just like that, I find myself muttering thanks and sliding into the surprisingly warm water. I am off, pushing forward into a modified breaststroke (adapted by me, so I don't actually have to put my eyes under water.) Red, blue, yellow and green triangles hang from a banner high overhead, signaling my arrival at the three-fourths lane mark. My fingertips hit cold concrete -- a tangible reward for completing an entire lap. Out of breath, yet exhilarated, I continue this back-and-forth path. I shock myself by completing ten laps, on this, my first day as a swimmer. Tired, yet invigorated, I am bursting with accomplishment. "I am going to do twenty laps on Thursday!" I boast to my husband over lunch later that day. "I think I will try a few strokes of front crawl, too." What started as therapy for my back quickly turned into a workout that I actually enjoyed. Tuesday and Thursday mornings become my time. With my youngest daughter in preschool, I find myself looking forward to peaceful morning swims. Gradually, I begin to complete greater distances. Ten laps become twenty, and remarkably, even thirty. Splashing forward, I am surprised to feel so free. My spirit soars with each stroke. Who cares if my form isn't the model of Olympian perfection? In the water I am powerful and strong. Adjusting my goggles, I dive beneath the surface. Insecurities are washed away as I set and reach new goals, like actually swimming under water! Refreshed after each swim, I spend my afternoons enthusiastically rolling out sticky pink play dough and playing countless games of Candyland with my girls. Bubble wand in one hand, sidewalk chalk in the other, I laugh more and worry less. I lost a few unwanted pounds and feel healthier and happier both inside and out. Long after my back pain subsided, swimming continues to be the balm that heals both my body and soul. In the water, I am a confident athlete, a woman of strength. And someday, someday very soon, I will master that impossible flip turn. -- Stefanie Wass ___________________________________________ Stefanie lives in Hudson, Ohio, with her husband and two girls. She is a member of the International Women's Writers Guild. Her essay "Legacy Of Love" will be published in Chicken Soup For The New Mom's Soul this April. Her writing will also appear in Chicken Soup For The Beach Lover's Soul, due in bookstores this May. ___________________________________________ . \ | / _\|/_ .' ' ' '. ___ _.|.--.--.|.___.--'___`-. .'.'|| | ||`----'"` ``'` .'.' ||()|()|| .___..-'.' / \ `----'"` / .-. \ (.'.(___).'.) `.__.-.__.' jgs |_| |_| `.`-'.' `"` >JOKES TO REMEMBER... MAYBE Two elderly gentlemen are playing cards on Saturday evening just as they have done for the past 50 years. Gus, the elder, had been having problems remembering what cards were what, and usually needed help from his wife. At the end of the card game Red said to Gus, "You did very good tonight. You didn't need any help at all. Why is that?" Gus replied, "Why, ever since my wife sent me to that memory school, I haven't had any problems at all." "Memory school? What memory school?" Gus thought for a moment, "Oh, what's that flower that's red with thorns? A really pretty flower..." "A rose?" asked Red. "Yeah, that's it!" Gus turned to his wife and mumbled, "Hey, Rose! What's the name of that memory school you sent me to?" * * * An elderly couple was watching television one evening. The wife said, "I am going to get a dish of ice cream now." Kindly, the husband offered to get the ice cream for his wife. "I'll write it down so you don't forget," she said. "I won't forget," the old gent said. "But, I want chocolate syrup and nuts on it. So, I'll write it down," she replied. "I will get you the ice cream. Don't you worry," replied the gentleman. A few minutes later, the old man returned with bacon and eggs. His wife said, "See, I should have written it down because you forgot the toast." ================================================================ >-->From HeartsAndHumor: .-"""-. / \ \ / .-"""-.-`.-.-.< _ / _,-\ ()()_/:) \ / , ` `| '-..-| \-.,___, / \ `-.__/ / jgs / `-.__.-\` / /| ___\ ( ( |.-"` `'\ \ \/ {}{} | \| / \ , / ( __`;-;'__`) `//'` `||` _// || .-"-._,(__) .(__).-""-. / \ / \ \ / \ / `'-------` `--------'` >I Love Love by Michael T. Smith I love the orange and red glow of the morning sky. Add a few clouds and nature paints the heavens with a beauty no artist can duplicate. I love the deep red of an evening sunset. The day may be done, but the sun isn't. It gives us a beautiful wave goodbye. I love the laughter of my grandchildren playing in the back yard. A bright sun, green grass and the smiles of children too young to appreciate the beauty around them, are joy to the eyes of a grand dad. I love the first scent of green grass in the spring. Winter's white fades from view. The brown death of winter turns green. A lawnmower roars in a neighbor's yard. New life blooms all around. I love to lie on a carpet of soft grass and stare up at the sky. Cotton balls of white mist float by. Like the jets that leave their contrails, the clouds move on to other places. I want to float with them, see new things, and enjoy the journey. I love the smell of decaying leaves. Although it brings sadness - life ending - it gives hope of new life to come. The trees, bare of foliage, look like many fingers raised to the sky in praise. One day they will be filled with life again - a new mother holding her child. I love the patter of rain. I may whine for the sun, but the rain is the blood that fills the veins of all living things. I love the rumble purr of a cat curled in my lap. They're in my care. They love and I love. I love the wagging tail of a dog that sees me after an absence. They jump, smile, and run in circles. There's no denying them. Their love is unconditional. I love the smell of the ocean. The roar of its kiss against the rocks is the love of lovers. One day they will be one. Once they were separate. They shared a world - a life. They curl together in the calm of coves. They battled the hurricanes of life. They work together to create the softness of sand. I love my wife. At night, she curls into me. Her arm drapes my chest. Her head rests on my shoulder. Her leg reaches for me. She rests it on my thigh and tucks her foot between my knees. A sigh whispers from her lips. Ginny sleeps. The house is silent. I listen to her breathe. I feel the warmth of her body next to mine. My love for her is beyond my capability of words. I look at her and melt every day. Feeling her body draped on mine, tells me she loves me. I love loving her. I love her loving me. I love love. -<>- .-------. * | # | * |_______| * _|=======|_ * * [___________] .' `. * | / : @ @ : \|/_ : < : // \~_s~-~s~s`._`...'_.' // * * `--~-~-~~s~/`"""' `-. // /'/s/ _ `// / /s/ (_) / ///s/ _ : * * ///s/ (_) .' * // |/`. .' __// .-''-------'`-. /|\ .' _ `. * / | \: (_) : : _ : : (_) : * : _ : * : (_) : : : ""'"""'""`. .'"'"""'""'"" jgs `-._ _.-' `"""""' >I Could Fly Away by Michael T. Smith The storm passed. Cold white clouds parted and a bright sun reflected off the white landscape. It was a big storm. More than a foot of snow fell, which the winds whipped into huge piles. One drift was six feet high and stretched across our lawn, parallel to the driveway. "Mum, can I go out and play?" I asked. Mum looked outside. "OK, but be careful. Stay in the yard." She warned. Mum bundled me up: sweater, thick winter coat, hat, scarf, and a pair of winter boots that were so heavy, they felt like lead blocks on my feet. The strong wind ripped the door from my hand, as I stepped outside. With Mum's help, we got it closed, but not before every loose paper on the kitchen table was blown to the floor. I carried Dad's shovel and waddled to the drift by the driveway. It was packed tight by the wind and easily held my weight. I climbed to the top and looked out over Dad's car. I was on top of the world. I walked to one end and started to dig. I placed the blocks of snow I dug out of the hole around the opening of my soon-to-be snow cave. They stacked up like the walls of a castle and provided shelter from the attacking armies. When I was done, the cave was long enough for me to stretch out and deep enough to crawl into, turn around and face the opening. Sunlight penetrated the roof. It bathed everything in an eerie, turquoise glow. _{}_ .' '. /_......_\ _ __ _ ."` `". | | ______ \ |; |_.-'o o`-._/ || | V | ||_ , |\ `'----'` / '-.` .-';'---.--.--'; || | \ '. \ _||_ /'-.____\ `\ ; / ) | | |`\ | _.' \ \ \ \ \ || ()\ \\\ \ \|| \\\\\\ \ | || () |_/ || ; jgs || () ' '. .'|| '. -' '-. .-' || `" " ` `--. My friend Jimmy stopped by. We went to work and soon had half the drift hollowed out. There was enough room for us and a couple more friends. Other kids joined us. We picked teams. A mock battle was staged. Jimmy and I, with a few others, manned the fort as the opposing forces attacked. I lifted my head from the hole. A snowball sailed in my direction. I ducked, but not fast enough. My hat was ripped from my head and powdered snow floated into the cave as I retreated to safety. "That was close!" Jimmy said. "Too close!" I laughed and brushed snow from my face. "Let's dig a hole out the back of the drift. We can sneak out and get behind them." "Good idea." Jimmy said. "Timmy, you and Wade stay in here. Throw a snowball out every once in a while. They'll think they have us trapped. Mike and I will sneak out. When you hear us yell, 'Attack!', jump out and start firing. "We'll get them twice! First we'll hit them from behind. When they turn to fight back, you guys can get them again." Our escape hatch was ready. We put our hands together, "All for one and one for all!" we yelled. Jimmy and I disappeared through the hole, crawled around Dad's car, waded through the deep snow, and disappeared behind my house. We circled around the hill behind the enemy and crawled through the snow to the top. We had a clear view of the battle zone. Three of them hid behind a wall of snow bricks. "When did they build that, Jimmy?" "I don't know, but they sure built it fast." Jimmy said. He slapped my arm. "Look Kevin is digging into the back of our drift. He's trying to sneak in. "OK! On the count of three, we'll jump up, yell 'Attack!' and let them have it. We'll focus on the three behind the wall. We have them trapped. When Timmy and Wade pop up, they can take care of Kevin. You ready?" Jimmy nodded. "Ok! Let's do it!" We stood. "Attack!" We fired on the three behind the wall. Our first volley was a success. We got all three of them before they turned on us. "Where's Timmy and Wade?" Jimmy yelled, as he took a direct hit to the side of the head. He dug snow from his red ear. Another snowball struck the top of his head hnd disintegrated into a shower of ice crystals. "I don't know!" I screamed. "Let's try again." We both yelled, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK!" Inside the drift, Timmy and Wade waited. "Did you hear something?" Wade asked. Vapor drifted from his mouth and nose with each breath. "I can't hear a thing." Timmy replied. "Do you think we should check?" "They said to wait until they yelled." "What if we can't hear them?" "We'll here them, Timmy." Wade answered. They waited while the short-lived battle roared outside. There were heavy casualties. Jimmy and I were beaten. My hair was matted with ice. Jimmy lie flat on his back, covered in snow. One of my hands was red and raw. The mitten protecting it, frozen to a snowball, was launched into the opposition's side of the border. We raised our hands in surrender. Timmy and Wade were taken prisoner and marched to a firing squad. They were brave men. We were proud to have fought with them. "That was fun!" Craig said. "Can we do it again tomorrow? This time we get the cave." "Deal! See ya, guys!" ******************************** .--------. * . |________| . * | __|/\ * .-'======\_\o/. /___________<>__\ |||||| / (o) (o) \ |||||| | _ O _ | . . |||||| | (_) (_) | |||||| \ '---' / * \====/ [~~~~~~~~~] \\// _/~||~`|~~~~~\_ _||-'`/ || | \`'-._ * * .-` )| ; || |) ; '. / `--.| || | | `\ | \ |||||) |-, \ . \ .; _ ; |_, | `'''||` ,\ (_) /, `.__/ ||.` '. .' `. * * || ` ' ' ` \ || ; . * || | . || | * || | .__.-""-.__.-"""|| ;.-"""-.__.-""-.__. || / jgs ||'. .' || '-._ _ _ _ _.-' `""` A cold wind whipped powdered snow into my face. It stung my cheeks, before melting, and dripping from my chin. I picked up a handful of snow, squeezed it tight in my hands, and made a snowball. My target, a castle made from blocks of snow carefully cut from the hard-packed snowdrift that stretched the length of our yard, towered on a rock in front of me. I took aim and hurled my snowball at it. It went high, landed in a drift behind the castle and created a small crater. I made another snowball and fired again. This one hit the left tower of the castle. A turret toppled over. In my imagination, the evil wizard screamed, "You will pay for this, King Michael.!" The captured maiden screamed, "King Michael, save me!" Another snowball crashed into the castle. The evil wizard cursed as his castle crashed down around him. The snow maiden leaped and landed safely in the feathery snow. She stood and waved, "I love you, King Michael!" "Michael! It's time for supper!" Mum called from the house. My maiden faded from view - back to reality. ************************** .-------. |# | __|_______|__ _ '-/ 0 0 \-' \\/ | V | ==.\ \ '...' / _o_ \\ /`'.__ ,-'\ .-'---'-. \\| | \ / _....._\ \/'-.....\ _/|`\ | / e.e \| ; | (\ '-. \| ._. // | o \ \\ '-=_~ ( '-.__.-' `| ; o | |\\ _=_=~ .'`-_ _/ `\ \ o _=' / \\ ~ / / `)-.;_ | .'.__ ,-_~_=`, /\\__ \___\_/ / \ / / ~ ~ \ \\ / '...\__./`\ / \ `-.,___/\___..-' ; ; | _ | | | |___|___| ; ; jgs / T \ \ / '---'---' '.__ __.' `` ' ``` Wet snow covered our yard. I grabbed a handful, rolled it forward and created a big ball. Before long, an evil snowman stood in front of me. His stone eyes and buttons, created from the gravel in our driveway, stood out against his white uniform. A wet stocking cap, stuffed with snow, stood erect on his head. His stick arms threatened my kingdom. "Stay back, Snow Devil. If you want a fight, you better be ready for a good one!" I threatened. He said... Actually, he didn't say anything. Snowmen don't talk much. I hit him with a snowball. One of his buttons dropped to the ground. "Had enough?" I yelled. Stony-eyed, he stood silent. I pelted him with several more snowballs. He showed the effects of my onslaught. One eye was missing and a couple of his teeth lay at his feet. His stocking cap lay several feet behind him. In his weakened state, I grew brave, moved in, and pulled my sword - the sword from a swordfish - from my belt. It whistled through the air. His head toppled to the ground, and dislodged his remaining eye. My kingdom was safe again. ************************** _...Q._ .' '. / \ ;.-""""--.._ | /'-._____..-'\| .' ; o o |`; / /| () ; \ _.-, '-' ; '.__.-' \ \ .-"`, | \_ / `'` '._`.; ._ / `'--.,_=-;_ \ \| `\ .\_ /` \ `._ \ \ `/ ``---| \ (~ \ \. | o , \ (~ (~ ______________ \ \`_\ _..-' \ (\(~ |.------------.| \/ `` / \(~/ || FREE SNOW || \__ __..-' - '. || """" """" || \ \``` \ || shovel all || ;\ \o ; || you want! || | \ \ | ||____________|| ; \ \ ; '------..------' \ \ \ _.-'\ / || '. \-' \ .' || _.-" ' \-' .-||-. jgs \ ' ' ' \ '..---.- ' \ ' ' _.' \' ' _.-' \ _.-' ` A road passed in front of our house. It was a border. On the other side was an open field, where the enemy prepared their attacks on my make-believe country. Above the border stretched a maze of power lines. The wires were a defense system. At night, I launched snowballs in the direction of the enemy. They became imaginary bombers. If they got through the wires, my bombers were successful. If they hit the wires, they failed, and disintegrated into puffs of white crystals that sparkled in the brightness of the street light that hung on the pole down the road. I launched one for my side and one for the enemy. They took turns attempting to penetrate the defenses. After ten turns each, the winner was the one who got the most bombers through the wires. "Michael, time for bed!" Mum called. The battle was over. ************************** .-. _ _..---./ \ .'_`\' `. / _....__ | `\| \ _~- ~ ' .`'\__, ; ~_- ~ ' . . | e | ~_- ~_.._. ' . ; e <> | ~- ~/` '.' .'; \ , ; '# .._ -_~' \ . _\ ,__\/ /_..;/ `\ `\/`' '._ _.-;`` \\ | |.' '__`""`. ' \ \\ / / `-.' '-._ . / \\`#, / / '--;__ _.' '#, ; | `//-'.,# '#, | \ || | '#, / '._ || / '#, .' `--,-....__\\-#` '#, `'-...__ __.-' | ,#' '#. .-.| ``__ |,#' '#. / /; .' '. ;#' '#, / /(_\ / \ /#' '#, / /_ `'/ | /#; `#, / / \_.' / .'#'| '##, / / / ;__.-',#' ; '#. / /-._/ .' \ ,#' | / /'-./`-.____.' \,#' / / /\__/ ,#' | / / #,#|_____|_ | | '#/ ||`\ , \ \ jgs _____\______||_/___/ \ `--' ( / '-------------------' I stood and looked down the slope to the harbor. Sunlight reflected off the icy surface. I shielded my eyes, pursed my lips, and lowered my sled to the ice. I stretched out and held myself still. My damp wool mittens froze to the ice. My heart hammered in my chest. Happy the hard crust held my weight, I smiled, sucked a deep breath and pushed off. I shot down the hill, gained speed, and screamed with pleasure. My hands gripped the handles tight. My fingers turned white with stress inside my mittens. The metal runners rattled over the ripples in the ice. The frigid wind brought tears to my eyes. Cold air turned my cheeks red. My hat blew off and wind whistled past my ears. At top speed, I leaned into the first turn and slipped to the right. On the second turn, I tipped to the side, gained control, and ripped down the final slope to the bottom. My heart continued to hammer in my chest as I neared the end. I stopped and wobbled when I stood. The pounding of my heart slowed. I played all day. Many times I crashed. My body bounced over the ice, and slowly came to a stop. I'd lie on my back and wait for a pretend ambulance to cart me away. ************************** _.._ .' .-'` + / / . * + | | /^\ . \ '.___.; /' '\ . * '._ _.' /' '\ __ * /' '\ >< + /'_______'\ /_ \ + . `|`"`"`"`|` |-_| /^\ .-| /,\ |---'--'--/' '\ * . /::| |_I_| | /' '\ /:::|_______| /' ___ '\ /:::::::.. /' /_|_\ '\ * * /___________________/' \_|_/ '\ . |`"`"`"`"`"`"`"`"`/' '\ | .===. .===. /'_____________'\ + + | | , | | , | `|`"`"`"`"`"`"`|` | |_I_| |_I_| | .===. .===. | . |_________________| | , | | , | | /::::::.. | |_I_| |_I_| | . * /:::::::::.... |_____________|\ /____________________________________\ `;.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:;:.:.:.:.:.:.;:` + * |;`"` `"` `"` `"` `"`|;"` `"` `"` || * || ___ .====. || ___ ___ || * + >< || |---| |/::\| || |---|---| || _ . >>o< || | , | |:():| || | , | , | || _|_|_ >o><<<|| |_I_| |\::/| || |_I_|_I_| || _\_/ >>><<<<||__________| ``o|___||___________|| ->-/~. \-<- >>>>>o>><<<<|||||||||||||____|||||||||||||||||||::: / . \ :::: '.'.:>>>>>jgs<||__><___><_|====|___||___________||.:. \ / .':: ::...>>>o><<<<<>>>><<>><<<;====; .'..'.. ..'..' .::. '.`"""` ..::: '::..'. . .. '' '.'. './ \ '. .' .. ..:: ..:;'' ..'.'..' ': '. '. '. ' .. ' / \ '. '. ''. ' . ' . ' ' .' .' The end of another day of playing in my frosty backyard approached. The sky turned dark. A light snow began to fall. I turned our porch light on and lay on our front steps. Big snowflakes drifted down from the sky, landed on my face, and tickled my nose. I stared at the falling flakes. I had the illusion of flying upward. The flakes, white from the porch light, looked like stars. I was on a spaceship traveling through space to places unknown. The stars passed by. New adventures were mine to have. Earth was far behind. I was flying. Whenever I needed to escape a mean brother or a family squabble, I could count on the snowflakes to help. I could fly away. To sign up for my stories go to: Join Hearts and Humor for FREE [http://visitor.constantcontact.com/d.jsp?m=1101828445578&p=oi] ================================================================= >-->From Archives InspiredBuffalo: __________________ / _@___@___@___@_ \ |@/ \@| | | | | |@| ,;;;-, |@| | | /;/))))) | | |@| (;/ . .(( |@| .-;;;-. | | ):( > )) | | (((;(::(\ |@| (;)\ = /( |@| ).`\):):) | | )):) .'):) | | < (:(:( |@| .:(:\_(_)( |@| = `\:):\ | | /`::) `\ | | '--')(:(:) |@\_/___________\_/@| )(::)"( jgs \___@___@___@___@___/ .' (::)) / / ;;-` \/ / | >Weaving My life is but a weaving between my God and me, I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily. Of times He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride, Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside. Not till the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly, Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why. The dark threads are as needful in the skillful Weaver's hand As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned. - Author Unknown -<>- sSSSSSSs SSS'\\\\SS SSS` - -'SS SS(, a \a S SSSSS -' |S 'SSS\ '= /S/| 'S|`-. __.' / | .-'| `-.__.' .-\ / /-. |B| { _/ \_ } |I| `| | |B| | '. |L| .' jgs '-.|E|.' `"` "An excellent wife is the crown of her husband, But she who causes shame is like rottenness in his bones." Proverbs 12:4 Everyone wants quality. Most men, if they have to wear a suit, would love to own a custom tailored outfit. A suit cut to our own body shape would feel wonderful. Unfortunately, most of us can't afford such a garment. Most of us would love to drive a $50,000 SUV or luxury car or sports machine. The feel of fine tooled leather; the power available at the touch of foot to pedal; the exhilaration of such precision machinery must be "out of this world." Unfortunately, most of us drive our old clunkers until they are beyond repair and then buy someone else's cast-off and do it all again. Most women would love to have the finest jewelry, perhaps a $20,000 diamond ring to go with her luxurious furs and designer clothing. Unfortunately, most of them live on a Wal-Mart budget. All of life is a trade-off. We desire the best. We settle for the best our money can buy. Solomon tells his son that the best wife in the world is a treasure worth clinging to. Whatever a man does, wherever he goes, his wife makes him look good. It may not be that she is the most beautiful woman, physically, in the room. It is that she is smooth and secure. Her role is to support her husband. She makes sure he looks good in his clothing. She sees to it that he knows what is happening (after all, we all know that most men are clueless!) and what is soon to happen. She makes her home a palace to be enjoyed by her family. She is frugal in her extravagance. (See finds a way to furnish her home and clothe her family with products that look like they cost a million, and she does it on pennies.) Yes, we all desire the best our money can buy, and we are proud of what we own. God is the same way. He has chosen us because He sees in us the excellence He created in us. He sees beyond the zits and flaws and sins. He sees deep into the soul, and He sees not the filth, but the perfection He created and will recreate. God does not make mistakes. Never has. Never will. His desire is that we become His showpiece. Oh, He knows our limitations, he did create us. He knows our flaws. He wept over each one as we inflicted them upon ourselves. But He knows what is yet to come. In many ways He is like a diamond cutter. What I see as a pretty rock, He sees as a brilliant cut diamond. What I see as a flaw, He sees as raw material ready for the Craftsman. What I see as failure, He sees as an opportunity to witness His power and love and grace and mercy. To God, we are his "excellence". He desires for us to please Him and make Him "proud." And, what's more, He gives us the tools, the opportunities, and the experiences to do just that. Are you allowing Him to make you into a "crown jewel"? Amen and Amen. -<>- .-. ,-"""-, / \__ \ | / `\ | \( ^.^ )/ \ - / .-'|;---;|-. (\/ ||___|| `\ \\__/ \__| C|`----`|D __//| | | |====( | | | | _/_/___.---- .===| |====\ /===. | ('------') ( '----' ) | jgs | | >Gramma Jan When I drove into the park, I noticed and recognized Grace right away. She sat on a bench watching the children romp and play. Why did she have to come? I thought. Couldn't she let me be "Gramma" for the day? I'd waited so long. When I walked up, Grace looked at me tenderly. "I've thought about you so much these last few years." She was constantly in my mind, too - the woman who is grandmother to my daughter's child. My mind went back to when Amy, just seventeen, told me she was pregnant. I had struggled as a single mom after Amy and Jennifer's dad left us seven years before, and I thought the worst was behind us until that day. Amy decided to place the baby for adoption. I agreed it was the right thing for this confused, young girl, and I was touched that she asked me to help her choose the parents through an open adoption process. I was fine until I saw the ultrasound, the life growing inside Amy. Then it hit me. In a few months I would have to let go, say good-bye to my granddaughter. Leslie, the prospective adoptive mom, assured me, "We want you to be a part of her life." But what role could I possibly have? Leslie's mother, Grace, waited sixty-three years to spoil a grandchild. How much would she want me involved? After little Nicole was born, Amy insisted on bringing her home for a week. "I need time to say good-bye." Those were special days, days to make memories with her first child, hold her, sing to her, write her a loving letter and then let her go. Yet, I couldn't even cuddle her as I wanted, fearful that bonding with this child would only increase my sorrow when she left us. The first time I met Grace, she came to my house for the adoption ceremony. "I know you'll love her very much," I said, stiffly, biting my lip as they were about to leave with the baby. Grace said nothing but just hugged me. After everyone left, Amy and Jennifer couldn't stop crying, and I kept assuring them it was the right thing to do, that blessings would come from it. Amy's tears started coming right away when she shared her story with other pregnant girls. The first year I saw Nikki often, fussing over her like any grandparent does, buying frivolous department store dresses she'd only wear once. Then it happened - the family moved to Florida. What would I do now? Leslie promised endless pictures and videos of special moments, but what did it matter? I was bonded with Nikki, and they were whisking her away. How would she ever get to know me at three thousand miles away? The years went by, and as I tore open every letter I ached as I put the photos in an album. Why did Nikki have to look exactly like Amy? Suddenly, I was struck with baby radar, tuning in to every toddler with brown eyes and dark curls, struggling to squash the tears. Then came the telephone call. The family was coming to California for a visit. Would I like to meet them at the park? Of course! All week I was as anxious as a grasshopper. It had been five years! As my car sped down the freeway, I wondered, would Grace be there? Was it selfish to hope not? Couldn't I have Nikki to myself just for a few hours and make believe I was her only grandmother? Nearing the off ramp, I thought, how will Nikki respond to me? I'm just a stranger to her. Should I hug her or play it cool? "She knows she's adopted," Leslie had told me earlier on the phone. "We're not sure now much she understands, but to her, you are her Gramma Jan." What a delightful, loving child I met that day. We played "hide n' seek" and fed the ducks. She sat on my lap and let me fuss with her ponytail. Grace didn't say much. She sat quietly in the background and let me relish those precious hours. In the afternoon, she nudged my side. "You've done better than I thought you would, Jan. I know how hard this must be for you." The tears stung. Oh, Grace, this is making me cry. "She's a special child, Jan. She's such a blessing to me." It was easy to see. Nikki was secure, adored by her father and thrilled with two little brothers. (Six months after the adoption, Leslie was miraculously pregnant.) "Please come and see us in Florida when you can," Keith said as he gave me a big bear hug. It was as if God reached down with comforting arms to say, This day was my gift to you, Jan. She will know you, and you will be an influence in her life. Just be patient. As Grace said her good-byes to me, she glanced over at Nikki feeding the squirrels. "Thank you," she said, squeezing my hand. She was thanking me? I pondered that for a moment, then I understood. Nikki was a gift to Grace from God, a gift that came directly through me. Sitting back to watch me connect with Nikki was Grace's way of honoring me. To think I almost missed the blessing. That day in the park I finally let go. As I glanced back at Nikki chasing another squirrel, I put my arm around Grace. "Thank you for having room in your heart to let me be 'Gramma Jan.'" By Jan Coleman -<>- >Links for Your Enjoyment It Looked Like A Parking Space http://www.buffaloschips.com/gssjak.htm Kind So Flunky http://www.buffaloschips.com/ghsjskla.htm 7 Wonders Of The World http://www.buffaloschips.com/gfsgfagh.htm ABC Banner http://www.buffaloschips.com/012101.htm Adidas DM http://www.buffaloschips.com/012102.htm Funny Stuff http://www.buffaloschips.com/sadfswa.htm German Coast Guard http://www.buffaloschips.com/sdfsafe.htm Gun Control http://www.buffaloschips.com/4r4n.htm How Aliens Fish http://www.buffaloschips.com/34r43r.htm Christ's Life http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/jesuslife.html The 2nd Commandment http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/2ndcommand.html Proud Of Our Troops 4 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/troops4.html Typewriter Art http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/typeart.html Just Have Faith! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/faith.html Snow Fun http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/snowfun.html Ten Life Tips http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/lifetips.html Undersea Restaurant http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/undersea.html Awesome Bikes http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/awesomebikes.html Beautiful Bridges http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/bridges.html What Your GPS Won't Show You http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/gps.html Visit our site at http://www.inspiredbuffalo.com If you are looking to join any of our other fine e-zines visit www.buffaloschips.com =================================================================== __ .-'||'-. .' || '. / __||__ \ | /`- -`\ | | | 6 6 | | \/\____7___/\/ .--------:\:I:II:I:/;--------. / \`:I::I:`/ \ | `------' | | \____/ | | , __ _____ , | |======| / / / _ \ |======| |======| / /__ \ <_> / |======| |~~~~~| | <_> \/ <_> \ |~~~~~| | |\ \____/\_____/ /| | \ \| |/ / `\ \ _ _.-=""=-._ _ / /' `\ '`_)\\-++++-//(_`' /' jgs ; (__|| ||__) ; ; ___\ /___ ; '. ---/-=..=-\--- .' `""` `""` >The Team Builder Story Editor: by Chris Kennedy Joyce Schowalter California, USA In the fall of 2010, I coached a fourth grade boys' football team in California. The boys were excited to play, including a boy whose family had just moved to America. Understandably, he had limited knowledge about American football... and by "limited," I mean "none whatsoever." "Bill" was challenging. He showed up late without cleats, mouth guard, or practice uniform. Playing a new sport, in a new country, in a second language, with strangers for a coach and teammates was hard enough. He also had to fit into an ultra-competitive group of boys, who weren't shy about pointing out mistakes. "Come on, you can't line up off sides, Bill!" Bill increased the workload I was already struggling to carry. I spoke slowly, instructed him individually on virtually every play...and still he often did things incorrectly. I limited his playing time in games because everything moves more quickly. Despite his lack of understanding, Bill always asked to go in. Bill's father wrote, concerned Bill wasn't learning enough because of limited playing time. I explained Bill had learning time at practice -- daily. Managing his game time was for his own sake and survival. With greater achievements he'd get more playing time...an expectation of every team member. His father understood... and Bill was beginning to. Even if he was blocking illegally, Bill seemed to find the joy football brings to a kid. In our final game I increased Bill's playing time. On one drive, he was penalized four times for jumping off sides. But he was trying hard. Towards the game's end, I put Bill at running back to give him the first carry of his career. "Dive Right." The quarterback's eyes brightened. A few teammates on the sideline overheard, and cheered. A parent walked over, "I don't know what you just called but it must be something special." The quarterback sprinted into the huddle with the play. Bill and a few teammates reared their heads back and looked at me with disbelief. Wide smiles nearly made their mouth guards drop. The boys rushed to the line. Bill lined up correctly. He received the ball -- no fumble -- and ran through a large hole created by his teammates blocking with all their might. Bill ran as fast as his excited body could for a five-yard gain. A large cheer erupted! His teammates ran to congratulate and guide Bill back to the huddle. The quarterback sprinted over, "That play worked coach! Can we do it again?" Then the game clock expired. We'd won by a touchdown. Many parents said the boys' reaction to Bill running the ball was the season's best moment. One said, "They looked like a team." A team. At every practice, every game, every teachable moment, I endeavored to impart the importance of teamwork. To be unselfish, sacrifice, and strive for something impossible to attain individually. Working together can defeat any barrier. Bill needed our help to become a football player. We needed his to become a team. =======HeroicStories======= >-->From DevineHalowings: _)_ .-'(/ '-. / ` \ / - - \ (` a a `) \ ^ / '. '---' .' .-`'---'`-. / \ / / ' ' \ \ _/ /| |\ \_ `/|\` |+++++++|`/|\` /\ /\ | `-._.-` | \ / \ / |_ | | _| jgs | _| |_ | (ooO Ooo) >An Angel's Message of Warning/A Beautiful Messenger by: Joan Fowler Our 11 month old son was in his playpen in the family room. His dad was watching a ballgame on tv in the same room and Jason had his normal FisherPrice toys all around him to keep him from getting bored. I was upstairs working on the laundry when I decided to lie down on the bed for a few seconds to rest. While I was almost ready to doze off, a clear voice spoke to me and said, \"The baby is choking, go now!\" I got up immediately and ran down the steps to the family room. I saw Jason standing up in his playpen smiling at me. Then I noticed my husband eating potato chips and drinking a coke. He turned around and asked me what was wrong. I said,"Jason is choking." My husband looked at the seemingly calm child and said, "You were dreaming. He's fine. Go back upstairs and rest." I couldn't let this strong command I heard go unchecked. So, I went over to Jason and stuck my finger in his mouth and pulled out 1/2 of a plastic Fisher Price key from a play keychain. He was seconds away from swallowing the large object he had bitten off that would surely have choked him to death. My knees became weak and I fell to the ground. I began thanking God for sending a message from Jason's angel that was sent to protect him from harm. I have the broken key set in his box of memorbilia and I look at it every few years just to remind me to always be on my guard when I receive a command that u! rges me to take action. It may be a life-saving experience for me or someone I know. I always praise God for his Angels. Their messages are directly from the Throne of Our Father in Heaven and they are sent to keep us in His care. --- ...See this teaching... Are Angels Real? http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/angelsreal.html ==================================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: .---. /_____\ ( '.' ) \_-_/_ .-"`'V'//-. / , |// , \ / /|Ll //Ll|\ \ / / |__// | \_\ \ \/---|[]==| / / \/\__/ | \/\/ |/_ | Ll_\| |`^"""^`| | | | | | | | | | | | | L___l___J |_ | _| jgs (___|___) ^^^ ^^^ >SAY THANK YOU by Nancy Julien Kopp The men and women in our armed forces are not numbers in a newspaper article. Each one that deploys leaves behind parents, sisters and brothers, spouses and children, as well as myriad of friends. They are not numbers -- they are people. They laugh, they cry, they love, they endure hardships, they work hard. They are human beings with all the emotions you and I experience. They sweat, they like to eat three times a day or more, they enjoy fellowship with others, they pray, they shake with fear more often than we'll ever know. They are warm, living beings. How often do we read that another brigade has deployed? Numbers? No, not numbers, that brigade is made up of people who smile, cry, tell jokes, treasure the photos they carry of loved ones. They have headaches and stomachaches like you and me. They get slivers in their fingers and bruises on arms and legs. They're no less vulnerable to physical ailments than we are, but they face dangers we have never dreamed of. I live near an army post, so I see uniformed soldiers everywhere I go. They stop at the grocery store on their way home from work just like teachers and attorneys and librarians do. They pick up their children at soccer fields as a civilian mom or dad does. We are all very much alike, except for one thing. These soldiers, male and female, have volunteered to serve, to protect our country at home and in foreign lands, to perhaps put their life in danger while doing so. Have you ever thanked a soldier or marine or sailor? Maybe you'd feel uncomfortable walking up to a total stranger and saying, "Thanks for all you do for me and the rest of America every day." What a great gift it would be if you could say that to a member of the armed forces. Think about it the next time you see an American in uniform. A couple years ago, my husband and I were returning from a European trip. We were tired and anxious to get through customs when we landed back in America. As we approached the passport checkpoint, a door opened and an entire unit of uniformed soldiers filed through. They were returning from Iraq, an even longer flight than we'd had. We stopped and watched these fatigued young men and women as they walked by us. Some nodded and smiled, others stared straight ahead. Some I could barely see for the tears that had filled my eyes. I wanted so badly to say Welcome Home to them, but the lump in my throat didn't allow it. The pride that overcame me at that moment cannot be described. I was every soldier's mother for just an instant. And what about the ones who didn't return? The ones who came home in a body bag or a wooden coffin. My pride in them is every bit as strong along with a deep and abiding gratitude in what they gave for the rest of us. They sacrificed so that we can keep living in a free country. Yes, we Americans have many disagreements, but, even so, we are blessed in numerous ways. Don't wait for Veterans Day or Memorial Day, take time to say thank you to a military person. Say it in person or say it in your heart, but please say it. -- Nancy Julien Kopp __________________________________________________ Nancy draws from her Chicago growing-up years and many more in the Flint Hills of Kansas for essays, stories, poems, and articles. She is in nine Chicken Soup for the Soul books, other anthologies, magazines, newspapers, and ezines. A former teacher, she still enjoys teaching through the written word. ================================================================== >-->From SermondFodder: ___ ." ". | ___( ).' -( ) _/ .'_`( / ( ,/; / \ ) \\. /'-./ \ '.\\) \ \ '---;\ |`\ \ \\ / / \ \ \\ _/ / / / _\\/ ( \/ /_/ \ | jgs \_) (___) '._/ >Men's Shopping Habits "You just go ahead," the man in the shopping mall said to his wife. "While you're shopping, I'll browse in the hardware store." An hour later, she returned and saw him at the checkout counter. The clerk was ringing up the last of a pile of tools and supplies that would fill two wheelbarrows. "Are you buying all this?" his wife asked incredulously. "Well, yes," he said, embarrassed. Then waving his arm toward the interior of the store, he added, "But look at all the stuff I'm leaving behind!" http://www.southerngospel.com/Family/Humor/1307669/ === This post is brought your way by Sermon Fodder and Joke A Day Ministries. To subscribe go to http://www.sermonfodder.com or drop an email note to Sermon_Fodder-subscribe@yahoogroups.com. Please leave this attached if you forward this to friends. ========================================= Quotes on the Family I believe the family was established long before the church, and my duty is to my family first. I am not to neglect my family. - Dwight Lyman Moody (1837-1899) If your father and mother, your sister and brother, if the very cat and dog in the house, are not happier for your being Christian, it is a question whether you really are. - James Hudson Taylor (1832-1905) Source: A Dose of Inspiration, http://www.quietstones.com/mydailydose --------------------------------------------------------- .--.-. ( ( )__ (_, \ ) ,_) | '-'--`--' ~~| , \ _ / ,|`-._/| -== (_) ==- ^^ .' | /||\ / \ ^^ .' | ./ ||`\ | / `-. |/._ || \ / `|| `|;-._\ | || || \ ~^~_~^~_-~^~=~^~~^= / || ||__ \~^=~^~-~^~_~^~=~^~-~^~ ~^~ ~=~^~ _~^~ =~ `--------|`---|| `"-`___~~^~ =_~^=~~^~=`~^ jgs ~^~=~^_~^~ =~ \~~~~~~~'~~~~'~~~~/~~`` ~=~^~ ~^=_~^~ ~~^ ~^~ ~^=~^~_~-=~^~ ^ `--------------'~^~=~^~_~^=~^~=~ ~^~-~^= ~^~=~ ~^=~^~ ~^~^=~^~-~^~ ~^~=~^~^~ =~^~^=~^~^=~^~^ =~~`~^ ~^~= ~^~= ~~^~~`=~``^~^^~= ~^=~^~^~^ =`^~^`^~^=~^~-~~^ >Rudderless Our friends Roy and Judy have been married for almost 30 years. But there are two words that took a beating early in their marriage and they still get a rise out of Judy to this day. The words, "Trust me." You know there's a story here. Years ago, Roy decided to try his hand on sailing one of those little "Sunfish"-type sailboats. He wanted Judy to go with him. Her back was really bothering her, but he assured her that he knew what he was doing - "Trust me," he said. One problem - as they sailed away, the rudder kept coming off. That's "rudder," as in what steers the boat. Well, Judy was extremely unhappy when rudderlessness ultimately led to capsizing - a boat with a ten-foot mast stuck upside down in six feet of water. So much for "trust me." That poor young husband. It's tough to be trying to sail without a rudder to guide you. It's actually a feeling a lot of folks know, even if they've never been on a sailboat in their life. In fact, it's our lives that often seem rudderless - drifting - without any real sense of direction. It doesn't matter how big or how small your life is, it can still feel rudderless. There's this feeling that I call pointlessness - the recurring sense that my life, however full and however successful, all seems so pointless ... missing the meaning that makes it all make sense. And along the way, there have been people and things that have seemed to say, "Trust me" - but they let us down. We're victims of disappointed trust, not sure what where the rudder is that will help us find some direction. The Bible explains our sense of rudderlessness, our sense of pointlessness when it says, "We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way." (Isaiah 53:6) We were created in such a way that our life can only make sense when the One who created us is running it. But we've taken command instead, happy to let God run the universe, but unwilling to let Him run us. So we're drifting, sometimes even shipwrecked. Away from the only person who has the plan for our life. We are, to use the Bible's word for it, "lost." Then along comes Jesus. He said He had come to "seek and save what was lost." (Luke 19:10) That saving involved the total sacrifice of His life for us - dying on the cross to absorb the awful death penalty for our spiritual rebellion. His cross became the bridge to the Creator that we've been lonely for all these years. So, in John 10:10, our word for today from the Word of God, Jesus is able to say, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." In other words, the life you were created for. When Jesus says, "Trust Me," you can - because this Man who loved you enough to die for you will never do you wrong. But you're rudderless until you anchor your life to Him. You do that by putting your total trust in Him to forgive every wrong thing you've ever done and to remove forever the wall between you and God. There's no religion involved here. It's a life-giving, love relationship with Jesus Christ - which you can begin right where you are. If you're ready to begin your personal relationship with Jesus, tell Him that. And I'd love to send my booklet about this relationship called "Yours For Life" if you'll just let me know you want it. The pointless voyage can end this very day - if you'll let Jesus take the helm of your life. He'll take you where you were made to be. Today's Daily Wisdom is written by Ron Hutchcraft, based on his popular radio broadcast, "A Word With You" which can be found at: http://www.gospelcom.net/rhm/awwy/awwymenu.htm "A Word With You" daily devotionals are now available via e-mail. To subscribe send a blank email to: awordwithyou-subscribe@hutchcraft.com =============================================================== _ (_) | ()---|---() | | __ | __ |\ /^\ /| jgs '..-' '-..' `-._ _.-` ` >-->Journey In every journey there is meaning. In every conflict, there is growth. In every action, there is purpose. In every moment of doubt, Remember to believe! -- Author Unknown >Updated FUN STUFF URLS - Oh Yeah :) Shangy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/urls.html FUN URLS ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -->BECOMING A CHRISTIAN HOW TO BE A CHRISTIAN! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -->FULL LENGTH - FREE On line AUDIO MP3 Chriistian Foundational Class http://www.truthortradition.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=61 NEW LIFE IN CHRIST! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -->This is for all you who love food and DARRE 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? 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