Homely Fathers 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 ~ clap clap Clap clap clap clap clap clap Clap clap clap clap clap , clap clap clap Clap clap clap . \ ` Clap \ ( (\ ) / ` ` / _\ , \(") ___ .- )=| (` ') ' _ /'| |-n___n ' (/\| a:f____________|_L___J__ < L _______________________ *~* 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! ================ >-->3 Hot off the 'Shangy' Press :) We have a super hot scorcher! This comes from our friends Jo Ann And Linda. This art work never ceases to amaze me. Check out the latest 3D sidewalk/pavement art here... /\ <<<<< () [] >>>>> ___||____|____ _______||____ ____||___|___ | ____ ____ || ____ ____ || ____ ____ | | |VV| |VV| || |WW| |WW| || |UU| |UU| | | |==| |==| || |==| |==| || |==| |==| | | |__| |__| || |__| |__| || |__| |__| | | ____ ____ || ____ ____ || ____ ____ | | |VV| |VV| || |WW| |WW| || |UU| |UU| | () | |==| |==| || |==| |==| || |==| |==| | () ()\/() |__| |__| || |__| |__| || |__| |__| ()\/() ._\()/_. || || ._\()/_. || | || || | || || | ______ || ______ || ______ | || || | ____ | 42 | || ____ | 44 | || ____ | 46 | | || || | |VV| | | || |WW| | | || |UU| | | | || || | |==| | o| || |==| | o| || |==| | o| | || || | |__| | | || |__| | | || |__| | | | || __||_| | | || | | || | | |_||__ || |_______|____|_||______|____|_||______|____|_| || ||/_____/_____/_____/_____/_____/_____/_____/____\||lc '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' Chalk Art 5 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/chalkart5.html --- ...I do so love this series! Thank You Ladies! -<>- Our next scorcher is from our friend PatDeE. This one I can think of a few people who would love to have one near them! Check it out here... ____________ | __|__ | | ,#######. | _____|_|#|_|_|#|_| |_____|_|#|_|_|#| | ############|###' | |_____|_|#|_|_____| | | |_| |#| | | `.__| |#| | |_____|_|#|_| | |#| | | | | | |_|_|_| hh Auto MotorPlex http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/automotorplex.html --- ...What a fantastic idea! Thank You PatDeE! -<>- Our last hottie comes from our friend Johanna. It took 3 years for this page to get another set of photos to live up to it, but this made the grade. They are just that beautiful. See what you think - Check them out here... . | . \ | / `. \ ' / .' `. .-*""*-. .' "*-._ /.*" "*.\ _.-*" : ; ____ """"': .. ; _.-*" \ `.__.' / "*-._ .' `-.__.-' `. bug .' / . \ `. / | \ ' | ` God's Paintings 2 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/gpaints2.html --- ...Awesome indeed! Thank You Johanna! ============================================================= >-->From Heartwarmers: , , / '. .' \ / '. .' \ '-._ '. .' _.-' '-. ; .-' _.-;(_);-._ _.-' .'_'. '-._ \ .'/[+]\'. / \_.' / \ '._/ | _ | | [_] | jgs /III III\ `"""""""` >WINDMILL VIEW by Diane Dean White My Grandmother was born in 1904 and lived to be 91. I was amazed at the education I received just from listening to her share special accounts of her life. They often became treasured bedtime stories. My grandmother's name was Irene, and Pearl was one of her older sisters. Irene lived on a farm with her parents and siblings. There was a tall windmill that stood next to the machine shed near the barn. As a little girl, Irene watched the men climb to the top of the windmill to oil the wheel. One fall morning, Irene waved goodbye to her parents who had hitched old Jip to the buggy to attend an auction sale a few miles away. Her sister Pearl was in charge of the girls and decided to teach Irene how to tie her shoelaces that morning outside on the leaves. After a bit of practice, Irene decided to tie a ribbon on her rag doll. She put the doll on the bench in front of the machine shed and worked at tying the ribbon around the doll's neck. After accomplishing that task she looked around for something else to do. She spotted the old windmill and remembered watching the men climb it. That seemed like something she would enjoy doing. So with her rag doll under her arm she started to climb the small galvanized rungs which formed the ladder to reach the top. He legs were short and the rungs were far apart but she managed to get to the top. She placed her doll on the platform and somehow pulled herself up next to her. She could see for miles and pointed out neighboring farms and the many fall colors to her doll. Uncle John, and his wife Bertha, lived across the road. When Bertha saw Irene climbing she called her husband in from the barn to quickly rescue her. However, after talking it over, they decided that might frighten her to see Uncle John coming. So, they telephoned across the road and told Pearl where Irene was and how to get her down. Pearl came out to the windmill alone and told Irene to stay seated where she was. She said she would climb up and help her come down. The first thing she did when she reached the top was throw the rag doll down to the ground. Pearl was able to get Irene off the platform and her feet on the rung and slowly they came down together. When the girls were safely on the ground, Uncle John was there to praise Pearl for bringing Irene down safely. Irene didn't recall what he said to her, but she was afraid it wasn't good. And she got a scolding for disobeying and climbing the old windmill. Irene said the good thing that came from climbing was being able to see the countryside and the colorful leaves while sitting on the top of the windmill, and not falling. And she also learned to tie a bow that day! Years later, when we visited Grandma, we occasionally drove out to the country just to see the farmhouse where she was born and lived as a child. Quite often it was autumn, and the leaves were colorful and the apple trees continued to produce, so we'd pick a few and Grandma would tell us about living on the farm. But nobody would climb that windmill! It was still standing, but we just enjoyed looking at it, knowing it was part of Grandma's past. -- Diane Dean White ___________________________________________ You can see a review of Diane's new book Beach Walks here: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1403366888/heart/ref=nosim She also has an outreach for women called Seeds of Encouragement at: http://www.heartwarmers4u.com/members/?thelamb212 Diane and her husband Stephen reside on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina where she continues her love for writing. They are the parents of three grown children and two grand-gals. ============================================================== >-->From Our Friend Linda :) .---------------. / oLo \ O/_____/________/____\O /__________+__________\ / (#############) \ |[**](#############)[**]| \_______________________/ |_""__|_,-----,_|__""_| | | '-----' | | APC'97 '-' '-' As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car, with the door open. The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away.. I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him. I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man.. I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying: 'You shouldn't even be allowed to drive a car at your age.' And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine. He then went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would be okay. I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, 'Looks like you're having a problem.' He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head. I looked under the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me. Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and I told the old man that I would be right back. I drove to the station and went inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him. The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help. As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), I spoke with the old gentleman. When I shook hands with him earlier, he had noticed my Marine Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, 'What outfit did you serve with?' He had mentioned that he served with the first Marine Division at Tarawa, Saipan, Iwo Jima and Guadalcanal .... He had hit all the big ones and retired from the Corps after the war was over. As we talked we heard the car engine come on and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card. He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed had his name and address on it and I stuck it in my pocket. We all shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbye's to his wife. I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me. One of them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card the old man had given to me. Both of the men told me then that they were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off. For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: 'Congressional Medal of Honor Society.' I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence. Remember, OLD men like him gave you FREEDOM for America. Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who supported them, and who continue to support them. America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war... America is at the Mall. If you don't stand behind our troops, PLEASE feel free to stand in front of them! Remember, Freedom isn't Free. Thousands have paid the price, so that you can enjoy what you have today. GOD OUR FATHER, WALK THROUGH MY HOUSE AND TAKE AWAY ALL MY WORRIES; AND PLEASE WATCH OVER AND HEAL MY FAMILY;AND PLEASE PROTECT OUR FREEDOMS, AND WATCH OVER OUR TROOPS, WHO ARE DEFENDING THOSE FREEDOMS IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST, AMEN This prayer is so powerful. Pass this it to other people. --- ...An excellent Classic! Thanks Linda! -<>- ,-'-. _., . ( '("'-' '). ( ' (( |. )\/( ) '( )) | () |" | | ') ( . ,-. ,-.. __.) /) / ' / / /) / / PjP >Hi Lord Hi Lord, it’s me, things are getting bad here, gas prices are too high, no jobs, food and heating cost too high. They have taken money from struggling Seniors--------etc, etc. They have taken you out of our schools, government & even Christmas. But Lord I'm asking you to come back and re-bless America, we really need you. Thank You Lord Jesus, I love you! The Lord says when 2 or more are gathered in My Name, there I will be also!!! Let's see how far this goes. Please pass this on.. --- ...Sweet! Thanks Linda! -<>- _ | (_) | | _) | ( ( | ( _.-"""-._ ) ( .' `. ) / \ ) |_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_| \ ' ' / \ `: :' / \ `: :' / _____ \ `: :' / |WHEE!| \ `: / ;-----' \`o'/ ' | / \ >Go ahead. "There are no limits when you trust God." Think about the most self-confident people you know. What is it that makes them that way? Self-confident people don't second-guess their capacity to succeed, nor do they wait for others to encourage them. They trust their own abilities to do what needs to be done. Stop waiting for others to tell you what you can do. Start putting your faith in God and your own strengths and talents. Instead of questioning whether you can reach your goals, move forward with conviction and confidence. You have incredible gifts from God. If you allow yourself to follow them, you'll achieve great things. Go ahead. Follow your God-given abilities. They will lead you upward on a path that has no limits! --- ...Great Advice! Thanks Linda! -<>- _____ (((\\\\\ )_ \\\| / \\|\/ \\( ), & \) ( (( |` \\ ))) _ | \` __| ` | , \ ` , \ | \ ,\ , \ ' \/ \_ \/ \ `_,`-._ ` \ ejm / `-. _ \ ` / ,`. \ === / '== =`. | ==== / | === ` / /========= / | / , /______| / , ======== __-' | = === / ,======= ' - -- ( \ \ \ ` \ ` \ ` \_____ \ / ` _/ / '-- ' >What If One day a woman's husband died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't "anymore". No more hugs, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat, no more "just one minute." Sometimes, what we care about the most gets all used up and goes away, never to return before we can say good-bye, say "I love you." So while we have it, it's best we love it, care for it, fix it when it's broken and heal it when it's sick. This is true for marriage.....And old cars... And children with bad report cards, and dogs with bad hips, and aging parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep -- like a best friend who moved away or a sister- in-law after divorce. There are just some things that make us happy, no matter what. Life is important, like people we know who are special.. And so, we keep them close! I received this from someone who thought I was a 'keeper'! Then I sent it to the people I think of in the same way... Now it's your turn to send this to all those people who are "keepers" in your life. Suppose one morning you never wake up, do all your friends know you love them? Let every one of your friends know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back. And just in case I'm gone tomorrow: I LOVE YA!!! Live today because tomorrow is not promised. --- ...Ditto! Thanks Linda! ==================================================================== >-->From HeartsAndHumor: .-"-. * ( + / \ . ) ) ) |# | ( * . ( . \___/ . + .-"-. * /^ + ( / \ ) ( .-"-. ) + . |# | ( * / \ ( ) \___/ ) ( |# | ( ' * /^ ) \___/ ( * ' ( ^\ * ' >The Happiest Day of My Life It started innocently. Many years ago, I worked in an office in Halifax, Nova Scotia. We had large windows that looked out over a busy overpass. I stood by one of those windows one day, when a woman in a passing car looked up and made eye contact - naturally, I waved. A chuckle escaped my lips as she turned and tried to identify me. It was the beginning of a year of window antics. When things were slow, I stood in the window and waved at the passengers who looked up. The strange looks made me laugh - work stress was washed away. My co-workers took an interest. They stood back, out of view, and watched the reactions I received, and laughed. Late afternoon was the best time. Rush-hour traffic filled the overpass with cars and transit buses, and provided lots of waving material for my end-of-day routine. It didn't take long to attract a following - a group of commuters who passed the window every day and looked up at the strange waving man. There was a man with a construction truck. He'd turn on his flashing yellow lights and return my wave. There was the carpool crowd and the business lady with her children fresh from day care. My favorite was the transit bus from the docks that passed my window at 4:40 PM. It carried the same group every day. They were my biggest fans. Waving became boring, so I devised ways to enhance my act. I made signs: "Hi!", "Hello!", "Be Happy!" I posted them in the window and waved. I stood on the window ledge in various poses, created hats from paper and file-folders, made faces, played peek-a-boo by bouncing up from below the window ledge, stuck out my tongue, tossed paper planes in the air, and once went into the walkway over the street and danced while co-workers pointed to let my fans know I was there. Christmas approached. Job cuts were announced. Several co-workers would lose their jobs. Everyone was depressed. Stress reached a high point. We needed a miracle to break the tension. While working a night shift, a red lab jacket attracted my attention. I picked it up and turned it in my hands. In a back corner, where packing material was kept, I used my imagination and cut thin, white sheets of cloth-like foam into strips and taped them around the cuffs and collar, down the front, and around the hem of the lab jacket. A box of foam packing and strips of tape became Santa's beard. I folded a red file folder into a hat and taped the beard to it. The whole thing slipped over my head in one piece. The next day I hid from my co-workers, slipped into the costume, walked bravely to my desk, sat down, held my belly, and mocked Santa's chuckle. They gathered around me and laughed for the first time in weeks. A few minutes later, my supervisor walked through the door. He took three steps, looked up, saw me, paused, shook his head, turned and left. I feared trouble. The phone on the desk rang. It was my boss. "Mike, come to my office!" I shuffled down the hall. The foam beard swished across my chest with each step. "Come in!" The muffled voice replied to my knock. I entered and sat down. The foam on my beard creaked. He looked away from me. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. The only sound was the hammering of my heart. "Mike..." That was all he managed to say. He lost his composure, leaned back in his chair, and bellowed with laughter. He held his stomach. Tears formed in his eyes, as I sat silent and confused. When he regained control, he said, "Thanks, Mike! With the job cuts, it's been hard to enjoy the Christmas season. Thanks for the laugh, I needed it." That evening, and every evening of the Christmas season, I stood proudly in the window and waved to my fans. The bus crowd waved wildly, and the little children smiled at the strange Santa. My heart filled with joy. For a few minutes each day, we could forget the loss of jobs. I didn't know it then, but a bond was forming between my fans and I. The next spring, I discovered just how close we had become. My wife and I were expecting our first child. I wanted the world to know. Less than a month before the birth I posted a sign in the window, "25 DAYS UNTIL 'B' DAY." My fans passed and shrugged their shoulders. The next day the sign read, "24 DAYS UNTIL 'B' DAY." Each day the number dropped, and the passing people grew more confused. One day a sign appeared in the bus, "What is 'B' DAY?" I just waved and smiled. Ten days before the expected date, the sign in the window read, "10 DAYS UNTIL BA--DAY." Still the people wondered. The next day it read, "9 DAYS UNTIL BAB- DAY," then "8 DAYS UNTIL BABY DAY". My fans finally knew what was happening. By then, my following had grown to include twenty or thirty different busses and cars. Every night they watched to see if my wife had given birth. The number decreased - excitement grew. My fans were disappointed when the count reached "zero" without an announcement. The next day the sign read, "BABY DAY 1 DAY LATE". I pretended to pull out my hair. Each day the number changed and the interest from passing traffic grew. My wife was fourteen days overdue, before she finally went into labor. The next morning our daughter was born. I left the hospital at 5:30 AM, screamed my joy into the morning air, and drove home to sleep. I got up at noon, showered, bought cigars, and appeared at my window in time for my fans. My co-workers were ready with a banner posted in the window: "IT'S A GIRL!" I didn't stand alone that evening. My co-workers joined me in celebration. We stood and waved our cigars in the air, as every vehicle that passed acknowledged the birth of my daughter. Finally, the bus from the docks made its turn onto the overpass and began to climb the hill. When it drew close, I climbed onto the window ledge and clasped my hands over my head in a victory pose. The bus was directly in front of me, when it stopped dead in heavy traffic, and every person on board stood with their hands in the air. Emotion choked me, as I watched them celebrate my new daughter. Then it happened: a sign popped up. It filled the windows and stretched half the length of the bus, "CONGRATULATIONS!" Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as the bus slowly resumed its journey. I stood in silence, as it pulled from view. More fans passed. They tooted their horns or flashed their lights to congratulate me. I hardly noticed them, as I pondered what had just happened. My daughter had been born fourteen days late. Those people must have carried that sign for weeks. Each day they must have unrolled it and then rolled it back up. The thought of them going through so much just to celebrate my new baby made me cry. I made a fool of myself for eight months. I made those people smile after a long day at work. They must have enjoyed it, because on the happiest day of my life they showed their appreciation. That day, more than twenty years ago, changed me. I just wanted to make my day better. I didn't realize how it affected others. Ever since then, I try to put a smile on someone's face every day. I compliment strangers on their clothing. I start conversations in elevators. I even make jokes in crowded New York City subways. Some may think I am stupid, but I know there is a chance I'm making someone's day - someone who will may one day hold up a sign that says "Congratulations!". Michael T. Smith ================================================================= .:' __ :'__ .'` `-' ``. : : : : : : jgs `.__.-.__.' >The Tree Story Editor: by Amberly Neese Joyce Schowalter California, USA My husband's grandmother, Mary, had always been an agriculture artist. She took such painstaking joy in her beautiful gardens, and each component of her yard vividly illustrated her passion for plants. When she and Grandpa moved from one part of southern California to another, she viewed her new garden as a new adventure and immediately went to work. However, there was a fruit tree in the middle of the yard that refused to bear fruit despite Grandma's nurturing. As a voracious reader, she studied all she could on fruit trees in an attempt to find some hint to encourage her fruit tree to blossom. She spoke to the tree, sang to the tree, reasoned with this tree -- all to no avail. Finally, she contacted the California Department of Agriculture and asked to speak to a manager. She explained her challenges to the man on the other end of the phone, took notes on his every word, and determined that she would adhere to his advice. After reciting a long list of hints, all of which she had already done, he made a dramatic suggestion. He told her to hit the base of the tree with a broomstick "to stimulate its roots". Concerned about what the neighbors might think of a woman in her seventies beating a tree, Grandma looked both ways before taking the end of a broom to the stubborn fruit tree. She knew that the vibrations would indeed find their way down to the atrophied root system and invigorate the tree, but she doubted that fruit would be the result of such an unorthodox approach. To her shock and amazement, the next spring the tree bore much fruit. Her grandchildren enjoyed the product of the tree for years to come, and each year the fruit was more plentiful and healthy. We would often laugh together at how silly this beautiful elderly woman must have looked to anyone watching as she hit the defenseless tree. The story will always serve as a great source of joy for our family. A few months before her death, when I was going through an especially difficult time, I called Grandma for advice. We reminisced about the "tree story" and she reminded me that it was the times of adversity for the tree that allowed its greatest strength and value to come to fruition. She lovingly reflected that my roots were being stimulated by the personal trials I was facing, and that I would be a more fruitful 'tree' because of them. She was not only an amazing gardener, she was a wise grandma. =======HeroicStories====== >-->From KidWarmers: "You should have known better, Mom, than to tell us to get what we need and get in the car. Now you'll never get Billy to Grandma's! Not without his 'puppy'....." \ _ \ ____ \\ \ /\ O O \\ \ /\_\ () ' ' "WAAHH!!" \\________.-~\\ ____/ (((( '/ / %%% \\/ ( oo ` / %%oo% /=====/) \O/ ' \ \__%%-/%__| | \\// \\ \ \ // \\ | | \/__|/ jro / / \) (/ | | //\\ / / /___\ | | (_)(_) \_;; ||| \_;; ||| \_)) The funniest things kids say. As the family was sitting down to dinner, Jennifer, who was in kindergarten at a Christian school, turned to her younger brother and then pointed at their dad. "That's not your real father," she said, startling the whole family. "Yes, he is!" Andy said. "No, he's not," Jennifer said. `_-@@@-_ |, _ - - - ~-_--; |~ = . _ . = | | | ( ) - -__\ _ /,_-- -_ _-~ .-'--`-_ ~/ . | | |~| |____(,,) /________\ |_|__| _~__~___\ W< "God is your heavenly father." Then pointing at their dad again, she said, "That's your homely father!" -- Grace Witwer Housholder Sam, 5, was enjoying the family activities on Memorial Day. He decided he'd like to have a turn hitting the softball since his dad was pitching to his older sister. When his dad tried to help him hold his bat correctly, he indignantly replied that he knew how to hit. His dad tried to convince him that some advice would be helpful. "Sam, you've seen me play and you know that I can hit the ball well," his dad said. "Even players like me who are good need some help sometimes." __,=,__ .~`` .` `.``~. | . . |____ `-;=============;""""` ( (. _).) \ | | \ `-.___.' / '._ _.' /`''''\ / \ | |/\/\/\/|.-. |-|/\/\/\/|;' ) (__/_______| _) #########'._) jgs |==|=|__ ,,,(______)_),,,, ,,,;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;,,,, ,,,;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;,,, ,;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;, Sam replied very seriously, "OK, Dad, I'll help you later. Right now I want to hit!" -- John King of Murfreesboro, Tennessee,, who heard the story from Sam's dad, Darren Every year the Stopsens plant a small garden in their backyard. This year their granddaughter, Rosa, asked if she could help while Grandpa was planting the beans, peas and radishes. He decided to let her plant the radishes, since they come up quickly. A few weeks later, Grandpa took her out to see the garden. _ ______ / `'. ,-"` '. / /'-.'. ___ .' \ \/ '.\.' ' | .| .'`\ | /`"'--., / \ , _.--'` \/_ | ,----.| _ `_--;` ``` `\-. | | \ | -- C -- _/ \ \ | \ 0 0 / . | | \| ) | '. _.' |.__/ ; \ `'---` / / __ '. .' | (__) /'-._____,-` \ /---'.-""-.\ '. / ||,- \\ ;---`;-._||-= |\ , ."""-. \ ) `|'.___.' \ ___ \'. / '-. \ /`-`-; / \ ,/ `) \ \| \ `` | | \|| / /'.| )_ / || | | \/ .' \ \ .-'/ ` |` |.-' .-~ ~-~-._ |.'` \ ` '-. \___/,__/ ~` _ `~~-., `-.,_\_)`-.,_\) `~-,___ ~___~,,..-~~/ jgs \___/`\____/'._.' When they came back in the house, Rosa said, "Everything is growing good... even my rubbishes!" -- Lynda Stopsen (grandmother of Rosa) oof Washington Justin, 3, was going fishing with his father. Nana asked him if he were going to catch a big fish. His response was, "Well, I don't know. We have redworms." "Why won't you catch a fish with redworms?" asked Nana. Justin replied, "Well, red means stop!" -- Cheryl Jordan of Elizabethton, Tennesssee ,--.,-"";-"-. .-;-/ / / .- `\ .-. ` ( ' ' ` ; `\/ \ \ / \ / (. C . ) | .-. | | _ / (` / | \ /}| | )(\ | `-> (____.| / ||| / \=====| | |\| | |====| \ _/ ` \__/=====| |` `-'======| \ |=======/ | |=======| | .--, ########\ |/ / jgs |_|__|| ` `--. ,---;-'--'\ `--. `---`-------'-.___,___.---' Cassidy, 3, was shopping with his mother when he spotted a woman dressed in a black business suit. "Mama," Cassidy asked, "why is that lady dressed like a penguin?" -- Cassidy's Grammy Celia A. Keel Gavin, 2, and his cousin Madison, 3, love to play with each other. One day Madison told her mother, Rebecka, that she was going to grow up to marry Gavin. Rebecka tried to explain to Madison that she could not marry Gavin because they were cousins. After a few minutes of arguing Madison got frustrated, put her hands on her hips, and stated, "Well, you don't want me to marry a stranger do you?" -- Monti White (Gavin's mom) of Milton, Florida When Scott was 3, his mother became pregnant with her third child. They lived on a dairy farm and from time to time Scott's father assisted with difficult births when one of the cows was having a calf. One evening Scott asked how babies are born. As Scott's mother started to explain, the phone rang. It was someone who wanted Scott's father to assist with a birth. Scott accompanied his father. When they got home, Scott asked again how babies are born. His mother said, "Did you see how the calf was born? Mommy had a baby in the same way." Scott's eyes got real big, and he asked, "Mommy, did you moo?" -- Roberta Hodges (mother of Scott) of GGuyton, Georgia Olga was teaching her granddaughters Mariah, 4, and Jena, 2, to pray. "You start out by saying, 'God, take care of my Mommy and Daddy,'" Olga said. "Oh no," one of the little girls said, "You say, 'God, take care of my Grandma Bingo!'" (Guess what Olga's favorite pastime is?) -- Olga Hernandez of Kendallville, Indiaana _,,_ __ d888888bd888b d88888888888888B 8888888P`Y8888P Y888888 (, \_ ,_Y88( ) Y888888b __\ '8"888P (_ Mom! jgs | .---' ~;~~\~ .=. \ (_ _) \ |=| \ _ /| | \ /_\/ | | | .-'--/_/------'-. `-.,___________,.-' | || |___|| |___|| .'""'';.__ (_________)) Molli, 4, was upset that her little sister's fever had prevented the family from keeping a dinner engagement with friends. As her mother sat on the floor next to little Emilee, rubbing her hair, Molli shouted, "Mama, I just prayed that God would help Emilee and put angels all around her, and YOU ARE SITTING ON THEM!" -- Melissa of Dawson, Texas Bethany, 3, had been looking at pictures of the baby shower that was held for her baby sister Alexis. Later her mother caught Bethany putting water in her mouth and then spitting on Alexis. Her mother told her to stop. "It's just a shower," Bethany said, "a baby shower!" -- Heather McMaster of Clute, Texas .0. / \ ; \_/ ; | | | | | | _______; ;_______ `======='\ /`=======` \ / _ | | _ _( \____|=|____/ )_ ( .---. .---. ) `-' / \ '-' / HUG \ ; ; | .---.|__, jgs : / :--' .--\ \ | `" `"".-' < =""` `"== `""""""` =""` `"""===="""` =""` `""==="""` Poetry, 3, watched her new baby sister endlessy the first few days after she came home from the hospital. Autumn was about one week old when Poetry began shrieking, "Mommy, come see Autumn, HURRY, HURRY! She's about to howl!" Poetry insisted that her new baby sister was howling just like their two beagles. -- Bree Jameson (mother of Poetry and Auutumn) of Amarillo, Texas Laurie had been trying to teach her 4-year-old to tell time. When she was showing him her watch, she asked him what made the little hand (hour hand) go to the next number. She was hoping he'd answer that the big hand (minute hand) goes around the clock and makes the little hand move. His answer was: "BATTERIES!" -- Laurie Windsor of Brooklyn, New York ================================================================= >-->From Archives InspiredBuffalo: ,--""""-., .'` ', / | | _ / __,'(,-'/ `\ _. / .=="=| '-. | .'===,=|-. | / /===\==\| \ \ _;' | |====\==\ '.___,u' \__/ |===.##,=\ |==/####\='-.__ \#|#####|`/^|_))._________________ #######/`| |_.-'""""""=' ] #####/\/ /__,________;------.---' jgs `###' |_/ V V >A Prayer of Those Who Care Author Unknown I do not know how long I'll live, but while I live, Lord, let me give. Some comfort to someone in need, by smile or nod, kind word or deed. And let me do what 'er I can, to ease things for my fellow man. I want naught but to do my part to lift a tired, weary heart, To change folks' frowns to smiles again. Then I will not have lived in vain, And I'll care not how long I live, if I can give and give and give. -<>- >True love`s meaning __ /__`. / \ `\\ / \ `\ / \ \ /_______\ /\ (((( )))) (((' . '))) (((\_-_/))) (((_) (_))) /((( \ / )))\ / ((( ^ ))) \ / / (( ^ )) \ \ ( ( \ ^ / ) ) \ \ )www( / / `\\ / \ //' /' `\ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ jgs | | `-----......_____......-----' In the 1953 movie, The Roman Holiday, Princess Anne embarks on a highly publicized tour of Europian capitals. When she and her royal entourage arrive in Rome, she begins to rebel against her restricted, regimented schedule. One night Anne decides to get 'out and about' away from her normal life, sneaks out of her room, hops into the back of a delivery truck and escapes her luxurious confinement. However, a sedative she was forced to take earlier starts to take effect and the princess is soon fast asleep on a public bench. She is found by Joe Bradley, an American newspaper reporter stationed in Rome who takes her to his apartment. The next morning Joe dashes off to cover the Princess Anne press conference, unaware that she is sleeping on his couch! Once he realizes his good fortune, Joe promises his editor an exclusive interview with the princess with pictures for five grand. Joe Bradley shows her the sites of Rome and he is initially more interested in a story that fetches him five grand than the Princess, but begins to fall for Her Highness. At the end of the day, through the magic of the nature both are in deep love with each other, and for them the time comes to part forever. Now there is no story for Joe Bradley to supply to his editor. His selfishness to earn five grand at the cost of the public exposure of Princess Anne strangely disappeares. His love for her makes him renounce the five grand. Similarly, our true love towards Him, once firmly formed, makes us renounce the worldly aspirations and longings and we end up with the single wish to be with Him only, forever. No love is greater than the love for Him. -Malladi Venkata Krishnamurthy. -<>- , , /////| ///// | ///// | |~~~| | | |===| |/| | B |/| | | I | | | | B | | | | L | / | E | / |===|/ jgs '---' >Art Work by God By Bev Kerr The Bible says that Love is patient and kind, And that's what I hope is in this heart of mine. It's not boastful and proud, haughty nor rude. But, I know that I owe this all to You. I want to stand back, for You deserve all the credit ... It's not me who writes the poems, it is you who has said it. You give me strength and courage when I ask for some. You give me hope when sometimes there is none. I'll always remember that You in your Love, Gave me a gift ... Your Son from above. He went to the cross and suffered the cause. And freed us from sin and gave us His all. He wasn't boastful nor proud, He loved the gathering crowd. He gave sight to the blind, made the lame to leap, And some dead, He called back saying, "They're just asleep." He was beaten and scorned, and died on a cross. He calmed the angry seas, and on water He walked. And to think ... He did this all for me. And in doing so changed my destiny. This Son of God ... an earthly carpenter's Son. He gave me sight to see the truth in all He had done. So, here I stand a slow but sure work of art from God. Still being reshaped by my Father above. I'm putty, I know, in the carpenter's hand. With Love in my heart, and these two hands. For it's my life to give ... and I give it to You. Shape me and mold me, however You choose. -<>- ,-""-. .-""-. / -. \/ -. \ ( ) \ / \ / `. ,' `. ,' hjw `.,' ,-"-,-"-. ( ) ". ." "._." hjw _ _ ( `' ) `.,' >S - H - M - I - L - Y David Langerfeld My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more. They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet. There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture. It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love - one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which not everyone is lucky to experience. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em." Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other. But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather' s steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone. "Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother' s funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother' s casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby. Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty. S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You. -<>- \ | / -- * -- / | \ /') ./') ('\. ('\ /' /.--''./'') (''\.''--.\ '\ :--'' ; ''./'') (''\.'' ; ''--: : ' ''./') ('\.'' ' : : ''./' '\.'' : :--''-..--'''' ''''--..-''--: dp >HAND IN HAND By: Joseph J Mazzella I can remember when my first born son was learning to walk. Everyone in the house was full of excitement. We cheered him on as he pulled himself up on the coffee table and walked around it keeping his palms on it for support. We applauded when he began to make his way down the halls leaning against the wall and going hand over hand as he toddled along. Every time we stood him up in the middle of the floor, however, he would only take a step or two before falling on his butt. Then he would look scared, frown, and crawl over to the safety of his favorite wall to pull himself back up. For a while there it looked like he would never walk without both palms planted firmly on it. Then one day we decided to give him a hand, literally. We began to take turns bending down and offering him a finger to hold onto while he walked. When we did this his fear disappeared and his smile returned. He seemed happy to walk along forever hand in hand with us. I spent a lot of time over the next few weeks walking like this with him. Thankfully, he finally did learn to let go and walk on his own before my back gave out. In my own walk through life I sometimes find myself falling on my butt too. I know that Heaven’s angels are cheering me on and urging me to get up and keep going no matter how many mistakes I make and how many times I fall. Still, sometimes I find myself crawling instead of rising. Happily, though, there is always a hand there ready to help me back to my feet. God’s loving hand is always there ready to help us up and get us going again. His back never gives out either. He will walk hand in hand with us all through this life and into the next. If you stumble and fall then don’t be afraid. Just reach up and take your Father’s hand. He will always help you up. He will always be with you too, step by loving step. He will walk with you hand in hand down life’s dark and winding road and into Heaven’s shining light. -<>- >Links for Your Enjoyment Too Good http://www.buffaloschips.com/6249.htm Toom Bumper http://www.buffaloschips.com/62410.htm Train Drives Thru Bangkok Market http://www.buffaloschips.com/62411.htm Men http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121130.htm Mentos &Coke http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121131.htm Mixing People http://www.buffalosjokes.com/112425.htm Simply The Best http://www.buffalosjokes.com/112426.htm Skate Miss http://www.buffalosjokes.com/112427.htm Smoking Break http://www.buffalosjokes.com/112428.htm Amazing Street-Legal Airplane http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/transition.html Wild Bear Farm http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/wildbearfarm.html Bolivia's Road Of Death http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/bolivia.html Zoo Animals http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/zoo.html Balloon Party http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/party.html Ten Life Tips http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/lifetips.html Underwater River In Mexico http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/underriver.html Modern Toilet http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/moderntoilet.html Cremation - Godly or Not? http://www.truthortradition.com/Cremation Choose His Children? http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/choosehischildren.html Are Angels Real? http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/angelsreal.html Our Valuable Anchor http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/ouranchor.html EyeWitness To HISTORY http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/photofrm.htm Visit our site at http://www.inspiredbuffalo.com If you are looking to join any of our other fine e-zines visit www.buffalosjokes.com ============================================================= ------ _____ / \ ___\ ___/ ___ --/- ___ / \/ / / / \ / / \__ //_ \ / \ / ___ | | ___ \/+--/ / \__ \ \ / \__ | / There are holes in the sky, \ /____ / / | / Where the rain gets in, _____/ ___ \/ /\ The holes are very small, \__ / / | | That's why rain is thin. / \____/ \ / // // / / // / /\ /-_-/\//-__- - Spike Milligan / / // / \__// / / / // // / / // / // / // / /// // / / / // / // // // // / // / / / / / / / / / / /// / / / // // / // // /// / / / / / / /// / // / / // / / / / // /// / /// / / >-->One Rainy Night It was a rainy night in New Orleans; At a bus station in the town, I watched a young girl weeping As her baggage was taken down. It seems she'd lost her ticket Changing buses in the night. She begged them not to leave her there With no sign of help in sight. The bus driver had a face of stone And his heart was surely the same. "Losing your ticket's like losing cash money," He said, and left her in the rain. Then an old weathered man stood up And blocked the driver's way And would not let him pass before He said what he had to say. "How can you leave that girl out there? Have you no God to fear? You know she had a ticket. You can't just leave her here. You can't put her out in a city Where she doesn't have a friend. You will meet your schedule, But she might meet her end." The driver showed no sign That he'd heard or even cared About the young girl's problem Or how her travels fared. So the old gentleman said, "For her fare I'll pay. I'll give her a little money To help her on her way." He went and bought the ticket And helped her to her place And helped her put her baggage In the overhead luggage space. "How can I repay," she said, "the kindness you've shown tonight? We're strangers who won't meet again A mere ' 'thank you 'doesn't seem right." He said, "What goes around comes around. This I've learned with time - - What you give, you always get back; What you sow, you reap in kind. Always be helpful to others And give what you can spare; For by being kind to strangers, We help angels unaware. - 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 Christian 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 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: Visit Here This Weeks regular Shangy emails OR For the Yahoo ShangyFunList: To Subscribe send a blank email to ShangyFunList-subscribe@yahoogroups.com ************************************************************************