Miracles Within Us... :) 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 or Web Site: http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/ShangyFunList.html Group email address: ShangyFunList@yahoogroups.com or email me here: bcrsystems@earthlink.net ================ *~* Please Consider Giving To ShangralaFamilyFun.com The cost of the website has gone up dramatically due to the ever increasingly wonderful pages and photos being added each week to entertain you and our fellow Christian families. While the ads on the website do help, I don't want to drag the site down with tons of them to pay for it. I need your help! "We are each of us angels with but one wing, and can only fly by embracing each other" -Luciano Decrescenzo ~ CALLING ALL CARING ANGELS ~ _..---.._ .' .-'''-. '. / .' _..._'. \ __ : : /`;' ) : : _,="`\ ,--''` ``'.; : |; ,-; : ; __..==""==.,_| `-, `; .\; / ^\ _,.="// '-,_.--._ '.(;_.'__/`_.-'`\ ,.--''`` _..=. `'--.// `` \ `--, '` `- |_\ '-. | `-._ _.;--`-..___,.-'` `'-...-_:',;`==,| \ _.--',=" / /"=;="=, _.' ,=".-'` .' /| ,=" _.--' .-' "=, : .' | ", `;._ .--'.' .-' .' . ; ,;;\_ . '._.'--'` -' / ,;;;._ '-._ .''.__.' `\_ .' '._ / '._ .(` jgs '._ ';./ `;` *~* WE NEED CARING And SHARING Angels *~* >Do You Want To Be A Shangrala Angel? If you'd like to help and be counted as a Shangrala Angel, the easiest way to do that is through online giving. It is easy to use, and most of all, it is secure. Please visit the site, scroll down and click on the donate button. A Secure PAYPAL form page comes up. NOTE: Paypal will generate a 'Quantity 1' and 'Price per item' form. Just ignore the price per item and put whatever it is you desire to give in there. With Paypal, you will have your normal receipt for your 'payment' donation in USD (United States Dollars). You can put a memo in there if you'd like. 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 YOU MOST ABUNDANTLY FOR YOUR GIFT! ================ *~* 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!! AND For Facebook Users: Please Friend Me / Like Me here... http://tinyurl.com/cma6all AND For Google Plus Users: You can find me here... Shangy Bigham https://plus.google.com/106648555948034085752/posts AND Please Share This email with All Your Friends And Family! ^~^ May God SUPER BLESS You As You Do! THANK YOU! :) -<>- * NOTE: An easy way to adjust the size of print in email or any page is to hold down the Ctrl tab while moving the scroll button on the mouse. You can also use the keyboard to change the font size in your web browser or emails. Hold down the Ctrl key while pressing the + key for larger text or the - key for smaller text! ================ *~* We Had A SUPER FUN Month Of Caring And Sharing Last Month! _..._ ,s$$$s. .$$$$$$$s$$ss$$$$, $$$sss$$$$s$$$$$$$ $$ss$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ '$$$s$$$$$$$$$$$$' '$$$$$$$$$$$$$$' S$$$$$$$$$$$' '$$$$$$$$$' '$$$$$' '$$$' ; ; ; ', ; ,' ; ', ', ; ' >Be Sure To Visit And Share All Of Our New Pages... 'Invisible' Animals 2! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/invisible2.html Fearless Animals! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/fearlessanimals.html One Word Essays 2! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/essay2.html Rainbow Mountains! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/rainbowmountains.html Natural Show-Offs! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/showoffs.html Humor In Religion 5! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/hreligion5.html Love Speaks! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/lovespeaks.html Hubby To-Do's! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/hubby.html Eleanor Roosevelt Quotes! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/eleanorquotes.html Beautiful Russian Churches! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/russianchurches.html ~ May God Abundantly Bless All Our Thoughtful Contributors! ~ =========================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: May love and laughter light your days, and warm your heart and home. May good and faithful friends be yours, wherever you may roam. May peace and plenty bless your world with joy that long endures. May all life's passing seasons bring the best to you and yours! ###### ########## ###### _\_ ##===----[.].] #( , _\ # )\__| \ / `-._``-' >@ | | | | | | | dp/VK | | | >TRULY GRITTY by Joseph Walker A few days have passed since the Academy Award ceremonies in Hollywood. I think I can finally talk about my disappointment. And no, it had nothing to do with what I saw on the red carpet (but seriously, whoever heard of a Roger Vivier tube clutch with a silver sequined Gucci gown?) Nor did my disappointment have to do with the hosts for the evening, even though I did find myself subconsciously humming "Thanks for the Memories" a few times during the evening. I was disappointed because my movie didn't win. Not "my movie" in the sense that I wrote, directed, produced, starred in or had anything to do with a movie that was up for an award (although I do have a great little Christmas story that could be made into a movie -- have your people call my people.) It was "my movie" because I saw it, I liked it and I wanted it to win. And it didn't. My movie was "True Grit." I thought it was terrific. Of course, I'm old enough to remember the John Wayne "True Grit," and I liked that version, too -- Glen Campbell notwithstanding. I like the story. I like imperfect good guys -- knights in dingy armor, so to speak. I can relate to that. I like it when the bad guys are clearly bad, and get what they have coming to them. I like justice that is neat, clean and uncomplicated by confusing realities. I like escaping in a darkened theater to a world in which a man with true grit can ride into the fray, reins in his mouth and rifles blazing, and take care of the problem. ANY problem. But mostly, I like grit (not to be confused with grits, for which I have never been able to acquire a taste.) I like the idea of grit. And I like people who have it. According to my dictionary, one who has grit -- true or otherwise -- has "firmness of character, an indomitable spirit, pluck." These are excellent traits, even if they can sometimes get you into trouble -- just like they did with Rooster Cogburn. My wife, Anita, for example, is as firmly charactered and indomitably plucky as they come. Not too long ago she was riding mass transit with our eldest daughter, Amy, and her family to a concert in a nearby city. No sooner had the trip begun than a rather large and mostly inebriated gentleman sat next to her and began to talk to her. Loudly and obnoxiously. Unlike many of us who would be uncomfortable with that situation, Anita chatted pleasantly with the gentleman even though much of what he said was... well... relatively incomprehensible. Watching this conversation, Amy's husband, Brock, moved from his seat on the train to a standing position right behind Anita and the gentleman. I should mention here that Brock has served three tours of duty in Iraq. He can handle himself in a confrontational situation, if you know what I mean. And he was prepared to come to his mother- in-law's aid. But Anita gave him a look that let him know she was fine, and continued her conversation. At one point the man became agitated about something and started using harsh, vulgar language. Brock was about to intervene when Anita straightened up and faced her neighbor. "I don't like that kind of language," she said, looking him pluckily in the eye. "If you don't stop talking like that I'm going to move." Brock waited to see how the gentleman would respond, ready to... well, the "fill your hand!" scene in "True Grit" comes to mind. But the gentleman calmed down immediately. "I'm sorry," he said, firmly chastened. "I'll watch my mouth." Now, you might think that Anita was emboldened knowing that Brock was hovering nearby, just an eye patch away from doing a Cogburn on the man. But I've lived with this woman for nearly 34 years. She would have responded in the same way if she had been traveling alone. She's plucky. Indomitable. Spirited. Truly gritty. Hopefully you know someone like that. In fact, you very well may BE someone like that. If so, I salute you. In a world filled with vacillating morality and wavering will, we need more gritty, plucky people. Even if you don't win Academy Awards. -- Joseph Walker =========================================================== >-->From HeartsAndHumor: ____ / ___`\ /| ( ( \ \ |^v^v V| \ \/) ) ) \ ____ / \_/ / / ,Y` `, / / || - -) { } \\ _\ | | | \\ / _`\_ / / / | ~ | ``\ _|_| ,-` \ | \ \ ,//(_} / | | | \/ \| | | | | | ' ,\ \ | | \ / /\ _/` | | \ | | | | `` | | | \ \ | | | | | | |/ | / / | | | | | >I AM A KING We held each other. It was another anniversary of a memory, moment or special occasion from our past - the same past that brought us together. Several times a year we face these moments. It was the weight of the past that held us below the surface and away from the life-breath of air we needed to move on. We followed lonely roads. Our soul mates were gone. Life was empty. Ginny and I were alone. We didn't want to be by ourselves. There had to be love out there waiting for us. One day, we found each other. In an online support group for young widows and widowers a friendship was created. This blossomed into a wonderful love and later a fantastic marriage and partnership. Our losses brought a lot of baggage into our marriage. Those birthdays, anniversaries and various holidays always came with memories of another love, a love that was lost. We supported each other. When the tears spilled from the pain, the other held on and waited for the storm to pass. We are stronger together than we were as one. This quote says it all and was the inspiration for writing this piece: Everyone you meet Comes with baggage. Find someone who Loves you enough To help you unpack - Unknown Author This beautiful quote sums up how Ginny and I helped each other heal and why we have such a great love and respect for each other. We opened our hearts to each. Our wounds were clear to see and feel. We didn't keep our baggage in. We shared it and together we unpacked. I wrote a friend the other day, talking about our wives. this is a quote from the letter I sent him. Without their strength, we are nothing but men. With them, we are kings - M. T. Smith With Ginny, I am a King Michael T. Smith =========================================================== >-->From Archives InspiredBuffalo: ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ; ,` ,-` ,-~` ,--~` ;,`,-`,-~`,--~` Glory >Very Important List The most destructive habit . . . Worry The greatest Joy . . . Giving The greatest loss . . . Loss of self-respect The most satisfying work . . . Helping others The ugliest personality trait . . . Selfishness The most endangered species . . . Dedicated leaders Our greatest natural resource . . . Our youth The greatest "shot in the arm" . . . Encouragement The greatest thing to overcome . . . Fear The most effective sleeping pill . . . Peace of mind The most crippling failure . . . Excuses The most powerful force in life . . . Love The most dangerous pariah . . . A gossiper The world's most incredible computer . . . The brain The worst thing to be without . . . Hope The deadliest weapon . . . The tongue The two most power-filled words . . . "I Can" The greatest asset . . . Faith The most worthless emotion . . . Self-pity The most beautiful attire . . . SMILE! The most prized possession . . . Integrity The most powerful channel of communication . . . Prayer The most contagious spirit . . . Enthusiasm The most important thing in life . . . GOD through Jesus Christ -<>- ___ .dSSSS$$pp.. .dSSSS$$$$$$$$; .dSSSS$$$$$$$$$$$ :SSP^" T$$$$$$$$$$b_ dSSP $$$S$$$$$$$b` dSS$;_. .:$$$SS$$$$$$b dSS$$$_ ; __."^TSS$$$$$b dSS$$P;" ""' :lSS$$$$$b :SS$$$ ; ::SS$$$$$$b_. SSS$$$ : ` ;:SS$$$$$$$bp. :SS$$$$b \ -=- .-" SSS$$$$$$$$$$b SSS$$$$$b.`. / d$SS$$$$$$$$$$$b :SS$$$$$$$; ""T :$$$SS$$$$$$$$P^^t--' SSS$$$S$$$ : $$$$$SS$$$$$$$ : :SS$$$SS$; __; _$$$$$$SS$$$$$$ : SSS$SS l;: ; : $$$$SS$$$$$; ; :SS$SS $;: ; : $$$SS$$$$$$; /; TSSSS :$ \ ; ; :$S$$$$$$$$.-"/ `SP; :; ;: ; T$$$$$$$$; /; : ; ; : `.; /)T$$$$$P .' : ; : : ; .'/ :$$$P'.' .'\ ; \ :; / /$P^".' .-" ; : ;: .' .-" / \ `.____/_'.___:--""\ --' .' ) .-" .' "-._ "-._ ..--"")\ :-' : "-. "-._ ---""" /; ; : : \ "-._....____; : : \ :\ `. \ ; ; \ \\ \ \ ; : : `. \\ \ \ : ; ; ;"-t\ `. \ : : : : `; \ ; ; ; ; : \ / : : / ; \-..__ .'; : ; / : ; """T ; : / / ; \ : ; ; ;/ : : \ ; ; ; ; ; ; ; : ; ; / : : : ; ; ; / ; :; : ; ; / : :: ; ; ;_ `""--..__; :_; __ ;____;.-;'; ;.__.: :..t-"" j" ; ; : ; ; ;--"" \ [bug] ; ; ; : ; : \ ; ; : \ ; ; ;. ; ; \ \ ; : / ; ; ; \ \ ; : ; ; ; \ `-. ; ; .' ; ; \ \ ;___/ /______;.-' \ ---; / / ;______: .-' / '-------' >Dad's Gift By Mary Cornelia Van Sant When I was fourteen, in a two-week period before Thanksgiving, my dad developed hepatitis and died. It was a shock to all of us. He had always been so healthy. He'd only been sick once before and had bounced back quickly. As one of eight children, I was usually lost in the crowd. Now, however, adults sought me out to console me. They told me how much I resembled my father and what a good man he had been. There was an outpouring of love, visitors and food to our home. To be honest, the months that followed his death were quite beautiful, in a weird way. I had never felt so immersed in love. At school, none of my friends knew what to say to me. I did have one friend who came to see me at my house the day after my dad died. She sat quietly beside me. I now realize how much courage that must have taken. Besides her, none of my other friends acknowledged my father's death. They acted awkward around me. It was a strange feeling. Several months later, one of the cheerleaders in my class lost her father to a massive heart attack. Usually, she was in the midst of a huge crowd. She seemed alone most of the time now. I approached her tentatively one day during lunch. "I think I know how you're feeling. My dad died a few months ago," I told her. I didn't know what to expect. I was a little intimidated, to be honest. I didn't mix with "her crowd" too easily. They were all so good-looking and popular. Abby looked me squarely in the face. Her eyes widened. And then she seemed to relax. We talked until the bell rang. After that day, we chatted regularly. Sometimes it felt like we were in our own little world. We'd share stories and giggle about our dads. It felt good to have a connection with my dad through our talks. I cherished them. The next school year a girl named Terry lost her dad. Terry was kind of nerdy. She was tall and skinny. Not even "my crowd" had much to do with her. Once again, I approached someone out of my need to have a bond with my father. "I heard your dad died. My dad died last year," I told her. Terry sighed, then gave me a description of her past week. I listened to her every word. As soon as I could find Abby, I told her about Terry. Abby responded like I did. It was as if we were on a deserted island, and we had caught sight of a shipwrecked victim floating toward us. We became a threesome. Not in a social way - we didn't really hang out together - but we snatched a few moments at our lockers and in homeroom to share bits of our dads. Just having someone who understood when we were going through a tough week was comforting. I still have my yearbook in which Abby wrote, "Thanks for being my buddy. I needed you." Occasionally, I hear from Terry. I have continued to reach out to people who are in pain. I've received comfort for myself, too, as a result of connecting with others. Being able to reach out to others has returned blessings to me a hundredfold. I thank my dad for this lasting and life-affirming gift. -<>- >"Squeezed" __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ (// \\) __(// __ (// \\) __(// __ (// \\) sjw /" / __ \\)" \\)_ /" / __ \\)" \\)_ /" / __ '|-..__..-''\_''-.\__..-'' '|-..__..-''\_''-.\__..-'' '|-..__..-''\ (\\ \_ _(\\ _/ (\\ \_ _(\\ _/ (\\ \_ //) "" (\\ //)"" //) "" (\\ //)"" //) "" (\\ "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" Walking through a park, I passed a massive oak tree. A vine had grown up along its trunk. The vine started small--nothing to bother about. But over the years the vine had gotten taller and taller. By the time I passed, the entire lower half of the tree was covered by the vine's creepers. The mass of tiny feelers was so thick that the tree looked as though it had innumerable birds' nests in it. Now the tree was in danger. This huge, solid oak was quite literally being taken over; the life was being squeezed from it. But the gardeners in that park had seen the danger. They had taken a saw and severed the trunk of the vine--one neat cut across the middle. The tangled mass of the vine's branches still clung to the oak, but the vine was now dead. That would gradually become plain as weeks passed and the creepers began to die and fall away from the tree. How easy it is for sin, which begins so small and seemingly insignificant, to grow until it has a strangling grip on our lives. And yet, Christ's death has cut the power of sin. Yes, the "creepers" of sin still cling and have some effect. But sin's power is severed by Christ, and gradually, sin's grip dries up and falls away. - By J. Alistair Brown -<>- ()__ ||**Z__ ||**|**=Z____ ||**|**=|====| ||==|**=|====| ||""|===|====| || `"""|====| jgs || `""""` >A Flag of Any Size By Stacy Havlik McAnulty Frank Havlik leaned against the wet brick of the Seventh Avenue firehouse and lit a filtered Camel. Frank was one of a group of middle-aged fathers and husbands living in Hudson, New York, who unofficially gathered every Saturday to debate and philosophize. Today, conversations drifted from weather to politics to the war. The war in the summer of 1968 was in Vietnam. Frank's only son, John Martin Havlik, whom they called Marty, had enlisted six months earlier and was serving his first tour in the jungle. Marty's mother had begged him not to go, and his four younger sisters had all cried the day he left home. The family had already lost a neighbor to the conflict thousands of miles away, but Marty was not deterred. He felt it was his duty as an American to help the less fortunate - a sense of duty Frank had instilled in him at an early age. Frank was proud of his son and respected his decision to enlist. "How's Marty?" asked one of the men. "He seems to be all right. We just got a letter this week," Frank replied. Frank had already read the letter a dozen times. In the back of Frank's mind, a constant worry for his son pulled at him, so reading about Marty's exploits, no matter how dangerous, was always comforting. Maybe it was simply knowing Marty was alive and well at the time the letter was written. Frank abbreviated a story from his son's latest letter for his listeners. "He complains there isn't enough to drink and that it's too damn hot. After being in the swamps for a few weeks, he was issued a few canteens of water to shower with, but he decided to drink it instead." The men all laughed. Most had known Marty since his baptism. "I would sure hate to be bunking next to him," one man called out. "Especially if he smells like his father," another man remarked. Frank crushed out his cigarette on the sidewalk. His friends could always make him laugh and forget about his worries - at least temporarily. As the conversation wound down, the men noticed they were not alone on Seventh Avenue. The nice weather had drawn a crowd to the park across the street, where one man, who was probably only a few years older than Marty, carried a megaphone and seemed to be leading the gathering. "How many more must die?" the man with the megaphone shouted. "What are they dying for?" Hudson was not a big town. The men often joked, "You'd have to quadruple the population of the town just to fill up Yankee Stadium." But like many American towns that summer, Hudson had its own Vietnam protests. Frank had seen these types of unscheduled rallies before. They mostly consisted of bored teenagers yelling, singing or praying. There was never any threat of violence. Today, however, looked to be different. Frank did not recognize the man with the megaphone. His tall, lanky body and bright red hair would have been easy to remember. The stranger was new to Hudson but not new to protests. He was an electrifying speaker. Soon the crowd was motivated, yelling to a beat and throwing their fists in the air in unison. Frank could not remember a rally ever being so loud. He felt the hair on his arm raise. Standing where they were - just across the street - the men by the firehouse could not help but watch. "This country is sending its sons to die," the stranger shouted. The crowd agreed with a chorus of boos and obscenities. At the height of the excitement, the leader grabbed a small American flag that was nearby and pulled it out of the ground. It was the kind of flag people line their driveways with on the Fourth of July or place in honor at a tombstone. It was not the six-foot hand-stitched version of Old Glory, but it was an American flag nonetheless. The man held up the small flag and held a lighter flame near its edge. None of the men had noticed Frank leave the firehouse. But, suddenly, he was there, next to the lighter-toting protester. Without a moment of hesitation, Frank grabbed the flag out of the stranger's hand. Frank Havlik, son of a Czech immigrant, veteran of World War II and father of an American soldier serving in Vietnam, did not lecture the young man. He simply took the flag and returned with it to his spot, where he again leaned against the firehouse. He did not want to break up the protest; they were Americans, exercising their rights. Frank only wanted to protect the flag he had fought for in France and that his son was fighting for now, in Vietnam. The chanting ceased, and the fists were lowered. Eyes darted back and forth between Frank and the red-haired stranger like an audience at Wimbledon. Neither made a move. Five minutes passed before everyone began to realize there would not be a fight. There would not be a martyr - or a bully. A man with long hair from the protesters' group broke the silence with the strum of a guitar. The tense moment passed, replaced by the sound of voices singing antiwar songs. Onlookers began to disperse. The red-haired stranger, no longer the leader, became a participant and joined the peaceful demonstration. The men at the firehouse resumed their smoking and philosophizing, but no one commented on Frank's actions. Frank held on to the flag; he planned to put it back after the park was empty. When the singing was done, the would-be flag burner crossed the street and approached the firehouse. The men sitting on the steps started to stand, ready to defend their own, but when they saw the protester's face, they knew his approach was a white flag. "I would like to put the flag back in the park," was all the young man said. Frank handed over the small vinyl flag. "Thank you," he replied quietly. Frank's story spread quickly. A few days later, the Hudson newspaper ran an article about the incident and included a picture of Frank with an American flag. Marty's sister clipped the article and picture and sent them to her brother in Vietnam. The letter containing the article arrived in early fall. Marty slipped it and a short note out of the envelope. The picture of Frank and the flag immediately caught his attention. He read the article three times in a matter of minutes. Marty shared the article with a few buddies, who told others, and soon all the soldiers in Marty's company had heard about Marty's father and the flag. Frank's act was a simple one, but it affected the young soldiers deeply. They had heard many stories of protests and riots in the States. They were even told not to wear their uniform home because of the negative attention it might bring. But the story of Frank saving one small flag made them realize some civilians supported them. Marty carried the article in his helmet liner with his cigarettes for the remainder of his time in Vietnam. His father was not an articulate or emotional man, but the story reinforced what Marty already knew: Frank was proud of him and would always be behind him. --- ...Reminds me of what America is relearning today... _ (_) <___> | |______ | |* * * ) | | * * (_________ | |* * * |* *|####) | | * * *| * | (________________ | |* * * |* *|####|##############| | | * * *| * | | | | |* * * |* *|####|##############| | |~~~~~~| * | | | | |######|* *|####|##############| | | |~~~' | | | |######|########|##############| | | | | | | |######|########|##############| | |~~~~~~| | | | | |########|##############| | | '~~~~~~~~| | | | |##########JGS#| | | '~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | | | | | | These Colors http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/thesecolors.html An Open Letter http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/openletter.html -<>- __.--~~.,-.__ `~-._.-(`-.__`-. \ `~~` .--./ \ /# \ \.--. \ / /# \ jgs '--' \ / '--' >Cherry Pie My mom always new my favorite desert craving... cherry pie. Not the frozen kind, but real homemade cherry pie. As I grew up during my birthdays, thanksgiving and other specials occasions a cherry pie would wind up on the table. Fast forward to 1994. My wife had just passed away from cancer. My heart was broken and I was depressed. I went home to visit my mom and her husband. No words were needed as she brought out a cherry pie. The pie if it could have talked would have said, "I am so sorry. I love you" Peace be with you." My mom will not make any more pies, but she had made many many memories for me. She has been my rock. I wonder at the ingredients of the pie, love, tenderness, compassion mixed together and warmed with a hug. -B.J. Cassady Guthrie, Oklahoma -<>- >Links for Your Enjoyment: About Dogs and People!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/aboutdogs.html Dogs As Best Friends!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/bestfriend.html A Butterfly's Story!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/butterflystory.html Growing Old!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/growingold.html The Black Dot!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/blackdot.html Hill Of Crosses!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/hillofcrosses.html Thank You God!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/thankgod.html One Word Essay!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/essay.html Thank You Lord!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/thanks.html The Blue Ribbon!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/blueribbon.html Inspiring Seniors!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/inspiringseniors.html Butchart Gardens!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/bgardens.html God's Instructions!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/instructions.html Friends And Health!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/friendhealth.html Playing With Words!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/wordplay.html God's Most Beautiful!- http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/mostbeautiful.html -<>- >Please Visit/Follow Me On StumbleUpon: https://tinyurl.com/yd38pcyp Some of Shangrala's Best Pages http://www.amazfamily.com/index.html -<>- Trump honors Rev. Billy Graham's ‘extraordinary life’ https://tinyurl.com/y9qpcpz4 How to win the war on opioids https://www.whitehouse.gov/1600daily/ -<>- >From TruthOrTradition: What does the Bible say about the mind? https://tinyurl.com/ybagabtx Understanding the Background of the Bible https://tinyurl.com/ybumr9yj -<>- >From Heartwarmers: Baby Laughing Hysterically at Ripping Paper (Original) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RP4abiHdQpc -<>- >From Our Friend LouiseAu :) Magician Gael Brinet dazzles the audience at the Championship of Magic France 2013. This performance of amazing illusions is part of Gael Brinet'saward winning show "Dreams and Emotions." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4L_qbfD-GA4 --- ...Amazing! Thanks LouiseAu! -<>- >From Our Friend Bunni :) 11 Workout Tips For Achy Joints https://tinyurl.com/yapcg8rl --- ...Good info! Thanks Bunni! -<>- Revisiting... >From Our Friend Linda :) Please take 2 minutes to watch this. You won't be sorry. WHISPERS... https://www.youtube.com/embed/zf_0jzPQ8lo?rel=0 A doctor dad https://www.youtube.com/embed/7tyT4glkvBs --- ...Love this! So heartwarming! Thanks Linda! -<>- >From Our Friend Melinda :) Roads Tunneled Into Earth by Time Holloways, also called sunken lanes, are one of the few examples of infrastructure made by humans that still serves its original purpose. http://tinyurl.com/gv4khg5 Venezuela collapses into food police state; biometric scanning into government database now required to purchase food http://tinyurl.com/h8fy45r --- ...Wow! One of the many reasons socialism is not good! Thanks Melinda! -<>- >From Our Friend PatDeE :) Would you feel completely comfortable walking across it? It is replaced every year. In the video one guy is singled out as being the architect which, in this case, means he was taught how to build the bridge by his father. That’s fine but the question is – who designed & built the first one? Did some guy centuries ago look at the gorge & say to himself – if we took some grass & made cables we could build a bridge here? While it looks like great fun to build the bridge every year I wonder if anyone gave a thought to building something a bit more permanent? Well the locals are happy with it & that’s what counts. Plus there is a festival thrown in for work well done. http://tinyurl.com/o268ptj Visit Melissa's Online Store You can get anything you want (except for Melissa ) at the online store http://pdhomes.net/mall/babylissa/mySTORES/ISELL4.html ========================================================== .------, =\ \ .---. =\ \ | C~ \ =\ \ | `----------'------'----------, .' LI.-.LI LI LI LI LI LI LI.-.LI`-. \ _/.____|_|______.------,______|_|_____) / / =/ / =/ / =/ / jgs /_____,' >The Tall Man Story Editor: by Caitlin Mercer Joyce Schowalter California, USA It didn't start out as a big deal. We were waiting to board our flight out of Portland, Oregon, heading to Ontario, California on a Friday evening. The gate had been changed, and everyone was now just anxious to get on the plane and get home. A man escorted an elderly Asian couple through the line. I assumed he was their son. At the head of the line, it was clear the couple spoke almost no English. A gate attendant was kind enough to escort them out onto the tarmac and onto the right gangway to our plane. I boarded the plane a few moments behind them and witnessed some confusion. The couple had taken the first two open seats, not understanding the seat numbers on their boarding passes. A tall man tried to show them how to identify the correct seat numbers, and when they didn't understand, he motioned to them to follow him, and kindly guided them to their correct seats. I noted his kind act and smiled, though I figured it was the sort of little kindness any one of us would do. We waited for an eternity to depart, and finally the captain announced that there was minor trouble with a cargo net and we would be delayed. After more time passed, we were advised we would need to deplane and wait for another plane. I thought immediately of the Asian couple and how confusing this would be for them. I waited for one of my carry-on luggage pieces to come out of the cargo hold, and when I got into the terminal I looked for them. I needn't have worried. The same tall man was with them. He guided them to the terminal where we were to wait, gesturing for them to stick with him. Our terminal was now overcrowded with impatient commuters waiting for the replacement flight, and there was nowhere for them to sit with three adjacent seats. The tall man spotted a woman sitting alone with an empty seat on each side of her and explained that he was looking after the couple. He asked if she would be willing to give up her seat, and she graciously did so. We waited another 45 minutes before boarding the new plane. The tall man sat with the couple during the wait, made sure they found the restroom, got a cup of coffee, a snack, anything they needed. Maybe another aggravated, tired commuter would have seen this as a pain in the neck. But this man didn't. I'm not sure if it "put him out" to help them. When the opportunity arose, he took responsibility for seeing it through. Really, it seemed he hardly saw it as an inconvenience at all -- just a chance to do good. =======HeroicStories======= >-->From LaughAndLift: .--. .'(`%&' __.>\ '. _.---,._,' /.--. : |/' _.--.< _..-' `\ / ' %&' >_.-``-. `Y /' _.---._____ '` .-''. \|: \.' ___, .-'` .'--._ `-: \/ /' \\ /.'`\ :; /' `-. &'` | | %' :.; : | |: | | | :. : | .jgs ; /:::. `\ >THOUGHT FOR TODAY A lady, who desired to lead a Christian life, felt that there was one thing in her life that she could not give up. When she consulted her pastor, he said: "Have you noticed that there are always a few dead leaves clinging to the old oak trees after all the other leaves have fallen? The strong blasts of winter fail to tear them off. Spring comes, and still they cling persistently. The days are calm, bright, and balmy. Presently one by one they drop off. What unseen power so quietly, but so surely, severs them? The new life rising in the tree gradually causes them to drop off. And so with us, - as the new life in Christ permeates our being, we find that we can give up for Him what before was so hard to renounce." - Sunday School Times, date unknown -<>- /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ || || || || || ||____o_____||___o_______||___o_______||____o______|| || 8 || | 8 | | || 8 || 8 || ()c|| 8 || | 8 | | || 8 || 8 || <#\ || ()8 || \()/| | || 8()_ || 8 || |\c||__/#>_____|| # || <# || 8 || _|/_|| /| || /\ || / \ ||___ 8 || [___c||___\_\____||__|_\______||__/__/__ __||___] 8 || || || || ^ ^ ^ || 8 || c|| || || || 8 || || || || || 8 || c|| || || || 8 || || || || || 8 || ()c|| || || || 8|| #_|| || || || || \c|| || || || ||8 \|| || || || || 8 c|| || || || || 8()_ || || || || || == <#__ c|| || || || || == \ \ || || || || || / ` c|| || || || || ` \\|// \\||// \\||// \\|/ \\||/ ^^^^^~jgs~^^^^~^^^^^~^^^^^~^^^^^~^^^~^^^~^^~^^^^^~^^^~^~^^~^^^~^^~^~^ >TRAINING IN GOD'S GYM (By Dawn Jones) [Edited (minor)] Our life on Earth is a life of seasons, a life of changes. Just as some seasons are eagerly awaited and others are less happily anticipated because they are not as pleasant, so some changes life brings are welcome and others are dreaded because they are difficult, harsh and painful. The thing that keeps us pressing on in the midst of changes, both good and bad, is the belief that God is in full control of His world and that "He [makes] everything beautiful in its time" (Eccl. 3:11, NKJV). No matter what may come our way, we have a promise of beauty! But only God in His eternal wisdom knows how the transformation will unfold and when it will take place. He does His work as we learn to live in obedience and contentment, trusting Him, believing that He will bring us through every season of sorrow and pain into a beautiful reward. His Word assures us, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning" (Ps. 30:5). We can count on this. But what are we to do while the night season remains? The answer is, ENDURE. "For you have need of endurance, so that after you have done the will of God, you may receive the promise" (Heb. 10:36). "Endurance" is the ability to keep pressing on without growing weary. It is stamina, forbearance, courage, fortitude, durability and ability to stand. But Biblical endurance is more than just being the last man to stand. Derived from the Greek word "hupomone," which means cheerful endurance or hopeful waiting, biblical endurance speaks to the attitude with which we wait as much as it does to the act of waiting itself. It is more than just making it across the finish line; it is the outlook we maintain while we run the race. Cheerful endurance is a powerful attitude that says, "God not only CAN change my circumstances; He WILL!" It is a mind-set that is filled with compelling confidence, trust, expectation, optimism and assurance in Christ. Hopeful waiting and cheerful endurance will not allow us to give up our dreams or turn loose of our hope; instead they call us to a deeper level of faith. So how do we gain such endurance? The answer is not easy to accept. The Bible clearly says that the trying and testing of our faith produces endurance (see James 1:3). Testing is the weight of choice that God uses to develop our spiritual muscles and internal stamina. When we face a trial that threatens our faith; when we find ourselves in circumstances that are incompatible with what we believe, we are in God's gym. It is then that we have the opportunity to build our endurance. The resistance we feel can serve us in that moment. If we begin to lift the weight up off ourselves with prayer, singing, meditation and obedient responses, we will bench-press our way into cheerful endurance. The joy that comes from passing a test, knowing that we have honored God in our lives, is incomparable. But what if we do not respond properly to God's "no pain, no gain" training program? What happens to our endurance if these weights remain upon us? The result of that condition is obvious. Trying to run a race while encumbered with weights would leave us exhausted, depressed and drained. Yet many of us do exactly that and then are perplexed at why our progress is so slow. Instead, we must rise up in faith, as the apostle Paul admonishes us to do: "Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us" (Hebrews 12:1b). The scripture says that WE are to throw off the weights. We must lay them down; we must rid ourselves of them because they are counterproductive to our endurance. We are not supposed to tolerate the weight of fear, failure, bitterness or unforgiveness, or the heaviness of Satan's lies. We must press against these weights, lift them off and grow in cheerful endurance! Is God calling you to joyful endurance? Is He calling you to a new level of faith? Do you need a fresh, dynamic, flourishing and hopeful expectation in God? Have you lost your hope that anything beautiful can come out of your life, your circumstances, your relationships, or your dreams? Then get to God's gym. There IS hope for a better tomorrow because you have a promise of beauty! Throw off the old weights and start running with endurance. You'll be amazed at the results! ========================================================== . . : . _ '. _.:._ .' (_) '-. .' '. .-' _;_ ' - ./ \. - ' / | \ - - | | - - """" \ | \ """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" `|\ ` | \ / / jgs / /_ ` >-->MIRACLES WITHIN US By: Joseph J. Mazzella I am always amazed at how many miracles there are in this life. Everywhere you look there they are. They are in the first flower that pokes its head up in the Spring. They are in the singing of the birds and music of the frogs as the sun sets and the world turns to night. They are in the parting of the clouds and the magnificent lighting up of the world that follows. They are in the golden sunlight that chases the grey and gloom away and fills the heart with joy. They are in nature, in animals, and in life itself. Most of all, though, they are in each one of us. Now many of you might object that there is a single miracle inside of you let alone countless ones. The truth, however, is that all of us have within ourselves miracles upon miracles. God loves us all and gives each of us the miraculous power to change the world with His love. We may not be able to heal the sick, but we can uplift their spirits with our caring and love. We may not be able to feed the world, but we can help to save the lives of one or two with our support and charity. We may not be able to take away the pains of life, but we can hold another up with our kindness and compassion as they face them. We may not be able to bring happiness to everyone, but we can share our happiness, optimism, enthusiasm, cheerfulness, and delight with everyone we meet. We may not be able to do the work of God, but we can help God do His work through us by sharing our love, joy, prayers, and oneness with Him. Don't miss out on the miracles within you then. Choose them, share them, and live them everyday of your life. God has sent us all on the miraculous journey called life and during it we touch countless other souls. Let us always bless them with the miracles of our love, joy, giving, caring, compassion, helping, and goodness. Let us never miss the chance to share a miracle. ========================================================== , , /////| ///// | ///// | |~~~| | | |===| |/| | B |/| | | I | | | | B | | | | L | / | E | / |===|/ jgs '---' >-->GOOD NEWS The news source is very reliable It's pure truth is undeniable, My source of news is Heaven sent To alter lives being misspent. Inside is news bulletins for today The Book will show a fresh way, When you're feeling less than zero The Bible offers a shielding hero. The bad news is you dilly-dally Lingering down in the valley, The good news is Jesus is there And your burdens he will bear. Rise up above the mountain-top With Jesus the misery will stop, You can't climb mountains alone, Walk with Jesus the path shown. The bad news is you have sank Your daily life is in the tank, Good news! There is expert help And a prayer is the first step. The bad news is you'll stay mired Realizing nothing you've desired Until you know the truthful news And accept The Bible's good views. The bad news is mortals will waver Even though their in Gods' favor But the good news is when you fail Prayer is the mode for safe sail. The bad news? There is indeed a Hell But there is glorious Heaven as well And for those who's Savior is Jesus That's the good news for all of us. ~ Kenneth J. Ellison 01-15-12 >Updated FUN STUFF URLS - Oh Yeah Shangy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/urls.html FUN URLS ------------------------------------------------------------------------ -->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 and 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 ************************************************************************