Soldiers Angels 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 ================ "We are each of us angels with but one wing, and can only fly by embracing each other" -Luciano Decrescenzo ~ CALLING ALL CARING ANGELS ~ . , )). -===- ,(( ))). ,((( ))))). .:::. ,(((((( ))))))))). :. .: ,((((((((' `))))))))))). : - : ,(((((((((((( ))))))))))))))))_:' ':_(((((((((((((((' `)))))))))))).-' \___/ '-._((((((((((( `))))_._.-' __)( )(_ '-._._((((' `))'---)___)))'\_ _/'((((__(---'((' `))))))))))))|' '|((((((((((((' jim `)))))))))/' '\(((((((((' `)))))))| |(((((((' `))))))| |((((((' /' '\ /' '\ /' '\ /' '\ '---..___..---' *~* WE NEED CARING And SHARING Angels For 2010 *~* >Do You Want To Be A Shangrala Angel? If you'd like to help and be counted as a 2010 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! ================ >-->From InpiredBuffalo: I know it has been over a week since I have written but in my defense the birthday wishes were a bit overwhelming and I get overwhelmed easily now days. Today's issue will be my last. I have gotten to the point where sleep is the only thing I want any more and I don't see this life lasting much longer. I want to take the time to say good bye while I have the energy to do so. Over the years I have recieved many emails thanking me for inspiring you. My motives were much more selfish than that. The writtings here were what inspired me. That inspiration is on hold now. Now I look forward to moving on and joining those on the other side that I love and miss. Someday when you enter that side look me up and we can finally meet. With all my love, Nancy --- _ _|_|_ ,|_| |_|_ || | | |_| || | | | | || | | | | _|| | | | | ||)\ ^ ^ ^ | || | | || | | || | | \\ | \\ / ejm )\ ( / \ \ / \ \ \ \ ...Please keep Nancy in your prayers daily also please consider sending her a thank you ecard here: inspiredbuffalo@charter.net -<>- __ /\/'-, ,--''''' /" ____,'. ) \___ '"""""------'"""`-----' pb >A Lesson Learned This morning I learned another lesson from one of my dogs, Sandi. My wife was going to feed leftover meatloaf to the dogs, all four dogs were in the kitchen and I was in the dining room. Diana put the meatloaf in two dog dishes. Sandi left the food alone and came to sit next to me. She was looking to be fed differently. She wanted my attention, to be loved and petted. The other dogs ate the food. This made me think about myself. If a material niceity was put before me as a choice between my home and family or my God what would be my choice? Hopefully I would choose the non-material. I see the choices people make everyday and the consequences of their action. My father died in the streets of Kansas City, homeless because he was a slave to his addiction. His choice was the physical choice of booze but in actuality, it was the non-material choice of addiction. I pray that I continue to choose my family, my love, my faith and continue the path to eternal reward and when temptation arises, and it will, I remind myself of the simple choice that my dog Sandi, makes everyday. She chooses me. -BJ Cassady -<>- _ /) mo / ) |/)\) /\_ \__|= ( ) __)(__ _________+______/ \______+__________ __-- | R.I.P. |-_-- __ _-- - | ___ __________ ___ | -_-- __ || | | | {| /| | || __--- --_ --__- || | | | {| /|| | ||-- - || | | | {| /||| | ||__-- __-- -__|| | | | {| |}||| | ||-- __-- ||_|_|_|_{| |}|||_|_|| -__ --__- -|| | | | {& |}||/ | ||--- __-- || | | | {| |}|/| | ||-__ -- __--|| | | | {| |}/|| | ||__-- -__ -- || | | | {| &}||| | || __ --- __-|| | | | {| |}||| | ||_---__- -- - -_ || | | | {| |}||| | || -- __ejm 97|| | | | {| |}||| | ||_--__- _--- _________||_|_|_|_{| |}|||_|_||______________ |}|/ |}/ |/ >Cemetery Duty I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's for a few cold ones. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 4:55 p.m. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever -- the heat and humidity at the same level -- both too high. I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed. She had a cane and a sheaf of flowers, about four or five bunches as best I could tell. I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: "She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!" But for this day my duty was to assist anyone coming in. Kevin would lock the "In" gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make the last half of happy hour at Smokey's. I broke Post Attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight; middle-aged man with a small pot-gut and half a limp, in Marine Full Dress Uniform, which had lost its razor crease about 30 minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery. I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint. "Ma'am , may I assist you in any way?" She took long enough to answer. "Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days." "My pleasure Ma'am." Well, it wasn't too much of a lie. She looked again. "Marine, where were you stationed?" "Vietnam , Ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71." She looked at me closer. "Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can." I lied a little bigger "No hurry, Ma'am." She smiled, and winked at me. "Son, I'm 85-years old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time." "Yes, Ma'am. At your service." She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the bunches out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC, France 1918. She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943. She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman USMC, 1944. She paused for a second, "Two more, son, and we'll be done." I almost didn't say anything , but, "Yes, Ma'am. Take your time." She looked confused. "Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way." I pointed with my chin. "That way, Ma'am." "Oh!" she chuckled quietly. "Son, me and old age ain't too friendly." She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out. "OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home." "Yes, Ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk ?" She paused. "Yes, Donald Davidson was my father; Stephen was my uncle; Stanley was my husband; Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all Marines." She stopped, whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly, and painfully. I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double- timed it over to Kevin waiting by the car. "Get to the "Out"-gate quick. I have something I've got to do." Kevin started to say something but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet. "Kevin, stand to attention next to the gate post. Follow my lead." I humped it across the drive to the other post. When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: "TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!" I have to hand it to Kevin, he never blinked an eye; full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing Duty, Honor and Sacrifice . I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac. Instead of "The End"....just think of "Taps". As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer: "Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in Your loving hands and protect them as they protect us." Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before, in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy. --- ...Check Out... Proud Of Our Troops 3 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/troops3.html Humor With Our troops 4 http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/humor4.html -<>- ) ) __ ( __ (~( __ (~( \O\ )~) )O) )_) (O( (_(__ ( )_) ) )~)__ __ /O/ )~) ) (~( (_( (O( __ \O\ ) )_)(~( \_\ __ )O) ( __________ _ (~( __(_( __ _-' `-_ ,-----' | _ \O\<'~_`) ) )~) / *SNORT!* \ | // : | -' )_))^ \\ __(O( ___| MUHAHAHAHAHAH!!! | | // : | --- >__;` (~( )_) `-. mmWAHAHAHA!!!!! | | // : | -._ /\_\ \O\ \ YEEHAH!!! / `-----._| __ /__( \| )_) `--___________--' _/___\_ //)_`/( (| ||] _____[_______]_[~~-_ (.L)O) || [____________________]' (_(,/(~( ||| / )~) ,___,'./\O\ ||| \ (O(|,'______|( )_) ||| / )_) I==|| __ ||| \ __/_|| __||__)~) -----||-/------`-._/||-o-_o__(O(-- __ ~~~~~' ____ __ /_O_/.\_\ \~\ \_O_\ /~/__/_/O`.o. \O\ ____ /O/_\_O/_/ `.' . \_\ /_O_/ /_/\_O_\ \O\ ,o,' \_\ `.' Ool >God's Value of Money By: Vonette Bright "...Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." (Luke 12:15) In these days of economic slowdowns and job layoffs, it's good to remember the value God places on "money." The poorest person in the world isn't one who's gone bankrupt. It's the one who is without God, and consequently without hope in the world. Some years ago, the editors of "The Wall Street Journal," made a powerful statement. They pointed out: "Money is the article which may be used as a universal passport to everywhere, except heaven, and the universal provider of everything except... happiness." And, they're right! You see, as Christians our happiness is centered on our personal relationship with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus said it best... "A person's life doesn't consist of the things which he possesses." Because, ultimately... The best things in life... AREN'T 'things"! About the Author: Vonette Bright is the co-founder of Campus Crusade for Christ International and host of Women Today with Vonette Bright, a series of national radio spots which can be found at: http://www.womentoday.org. A further profile of Vonette: http://www.secretsofsuccess.com/bios/vonette.html --- , , /////| ///// | ///// | |~~~| | | |===| |/| | B |/| | | I | | | | B | | | | L | / | E | / |===|/ jgs '---' ...Check Out... Financial Stewardship http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/financialstewardship.html Overseer http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/overseer.html -<>- >Links for Your Enjoyment Copperfield Hans Betsy http://www.buffaloschips.com/12w3.htm Costa Rica Vacation http://www.buffaloschips.com/12qa.htm Cowboy http://www.buffaloschips.com/12we.htm Crabz http://www.buffaloschips.com/12ere.htm Cyril takaya Matrix http://www.buffaloschips.com/12sd.htm Heroes Truck http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/herotruck.html Humor With Our Troops 4 http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/humor4.html Make Pencil Flags http://www.pencilflag.com/p_flag.htm Military WWII Posters http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/militarywwii.html Bolivia's Road Of Death http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/bolivia.html Guoliang Tunnel Road http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/tunnel.html Underwater River In Mexico http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/underriver.html A Mother Horse's Love http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/motherslove2.html Nanny Animals http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/nannyanimals.html Pictures To Ponder http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/ponder.html Visit Inspired Buffalo site at http://www.inspiredbuffalo.com =================================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: .---. (_---_) (_/6 6\_) ( v ) `\ /' .-'': ;``-. / \,Y./ \ / (:)___ \ : .-'XXX`-.`\_; `.__.-XXX-.__.'\_ / / XXX \ \ `\_ / XXX \ `\ / XXX \ _`\___ jgs / \ (`--"""-') / \ (=-=-=-=-) `--...___ ___...--' (________) >HOOKING MY WAY TO FAME by Kathe Campbell With mc, ch 4, joining with sl st to form a ring. Rnd 1: Ch 3, work 2 dc in ring; * ch 3, work 3 dc in ring, rep from * twice, ch 3... It might look like rocket science to some, but my heart soars in anticipation of colors, textures, patterns and crochet hooks. I've kept the snuggly synthetic and woolly lovers decked out in most all reasonable requests. Doll clothes and fashions for the distaff side, mufflers and cozy socks for his majesty's toes. One granddaughter's cheerleading squad even put in their order for mittens to match their outfits. After dazedly ogling purple for days, I found myself double chaining and slip stitching in my dreams. Varieties of needles, threads and yarns spawned perfection, a trick taught to me by a grandma who intuitively sensed feel and gauge. Childhood days had been spent with her at Saturday matinees along with her latest project, her tiny hands flying back and forth crocheting intricate treasures in the darkened theater. But needlecraft was the last thought on my mind, a day in my own antiquity when the unthinkable happened, a brutal accident in which I lost my dominant right hand. 'Twas more like how I'd be able to achieve anything, let alone hooking a simple daisy chain. The devastation and aftermath launched me back in time devouring life's mundane chores. Inventing sedulous ways to put on a bra, buttering bread without it shredding, the brownie bowl catapulting across the kitchen floor, and folding clothes with my teeth. It was a brilliant start those first months in between woe-is-me tears. Weeks passed and my precious old lefty was being worked to the hilt, and then dreadful news I had suspected -- rheumatoid arthritis. Well now, wasn't that just what I longed to hear? I came to know a place across our state that specialized in orthotics and prosthetics. What was left of my arm labored hard those first grueling weeks to achieve skill with every prosthesis. I returned home with a dainty hook, two tough farm and ranch hooks that most men ran from, and the challenge of a fancy myoelectric hand. Granddaughters stood with mouths agape, thoroughly infatuated, just itching to paint the rubbery fingernails, but I decided the delicate hand was no match for this mountain mama. How was I supposed to get anything done wearing such a cockamamie thing? "Gran, do you think you could whip up a cap with a big pompom to match my new ski outfit?" begged the youngest. I laughed and quipped I could probably get a half dozen out before the weekend. I don't know who felt worse as she bent down to give me a tearful hug. But the thought of attaching a crochet hook to my prothesis had sent my mind reeling. The following day I got out the box of prosthetic accessories, rummaged through my yarns, and spent the afternoon practicing. With a crochet hook locked on firmly, I took yarn in hand and began... Ch 3, work 2 dc in ch 3 sp, ch 3... oops, try again. My husband arrived home to find the living room littered with crochet hooks, yarns, and a sea of practice squares. Provided the rheumatoid didn't put a hitch in my plans, I felt confident enough to begin a simple project -- like maybe a young girl's ski cap with a big pompom? Renewed and all wound up like a ball of yarn, I went on the town picking and choosing new weights, colors and patterns. Instead of turning myself into a reclusive wimp, the good Lord had kept His eye on this sparrow, and my outlook on life did an about-face. Mindless ski caps driving me loony, I turned out stunning sweaters in all shades and styles for each granddaughter before the year was out. My Christmas present that year was a granddaughter portrait taken in their cherished pullovers and cardigans. These masterpieces remain conversation pieces, legacies of unflinching grit barely before my antiquity. Is it any wonder my darlin's call me, "Granny Hook?" -- Kathe Campbell __________________________________________________ Kathe lives her dream on a Montana mountain with her mammoth donkeys, a Keeshond, and a few kitties. Three children, eleven grands and three greats round out her herd. She is a prolific writer on Alzheimer's, and her stories are found on many ezines. Kathe is a contributing author to the Chicken Soup For The Soul and Cup of Comfort series, numerous anthologies, RX for Writers, magazines and medical journals. ================================================================ ________ /______ | | | | _ | ===== | | | | | ===== | | o o | | | |~ | .-. | | o o o | ' . ' | | |~ |_| ..'| '._.' | | o .' |_______|/ ks Kostja >Upgraded Expectations Story Editor: by Robert Gerhart Anne Wilson Texas, USA A close friend of mine, 88 years old and a widower, regularly listened to church services broadcast live on the radio from California every Sunday. He hoped to sometime travel there from his home in Houston, Texas to attend a service in person. My wife and I discussed it and decided that, although it was a great responsibility, we could take him there for Easter weekend. Once there, we all enjoyed the services and had a great time. Monday morning our son drove us to Los Angeles International Airport to catch an early flight. My son let us out in front of the terminal. Upon entering the terminal we learned our flight had been cancelled and we wouldn't be able to get another flight until 5 p.m. I called my son to let him know about the situation, and though I discouraged him, he wanted to take us out for lunch. We went to a nice, busy restaurant where we waited for a seat. When our name was called, my friend noticed he was missing his wallet. We apologized to the waitress and left immediately to return to the airport. Everyone else stayed in the car while I went to the terminal where we'd been. I questioned the airline staff, who said all I could do was to go to Lost and Found. As I expected, Lost and Found said they didn't have the wallet. I went back to the car, gave them the sad news, and as there was nothing else we could do we went back to the restaurant for lunch. On the flight back to Houston I tried to console my friend and convince him to just put this loss behind him, as the chances of getting the wallet back were practically zero. His wallet had held $400, a credit card, a Medicare card, and his driver's license. Tuesday morning he went to the Department of Motor Vehicles office to get a new driver's license, but the lady in the office was not helpful and he was very discouraged. The next evening my friend called to say he'd received a call from a Houston hospital saying they'd been contacted by someone at the Los Angeles airport. That person had found his wallet and was mailing it to him. Apparently they'd found information in the wallet showing he'd been a patient at that hospital. I told him it would be wonderful to get the wallet back, but cautioned him not to expect the money to be there. Surprisingly, the next day he received the wallet with the money and contents intact. He had hoped to contact the woman who had sent the wallet back to him, thought to be an employee of Delta Airlines, but was never able to locate her. For me this was almost unbelievable, but there really still are good folks in our world, aren't there? If you're reading, kind Delta employee, thanks for the wallet and the upgrade -- of our expectations. =======HeroicStories======= >-->From SermondFodder: '.-----/`. / '/ __'`__ .''-. \o) o/ \ (`Y .) \ `--|__7 \ / | __ / / \ ) \ // \ \--X Y // (-`.`--_.-' /_) BP cat `-.__.-' >Homeward Bound His face was scratched and bloody. His fur was matted and disheveled. And he painfully held his right rear leg aloft and let out a short, pitiful meow. He wasn't pretty, but he was home at last, and we greeted him like the prodigal son he was, petting and making over him, bringing him food and water, lavishing attention so he would always think of home as a good place to return to. Ceasar, the prodigal cat who had wandered away for a week, had come home, and his sins showed. We really thought he was gone for good this time; we tried to rationalize when we thought something dire had happened to him that "at least we didn't have the pain of putting him down." We fantasized that he had wondered off as a regal and elder beast to join the great cat heaven in the sky. Stuart, my husband, had been not only hurt but miffed at his cat for wandering away. Stuart had built Ceasar a luxurious cat house on the perch outside our kitchen window: how many cats have their own cat house? So he had been thinking Ceasar didn't deserve his home if he was prone to wander off like that. But now, with the broken leg, Stuart's miffed-ness turned to sympathy, such as wondering how long Ceasar had suffered in pain, how hungry he must have gotten, and how had he ever made it home. Reminds me of the Mike Yaconelli story where he talks about cows getting out on back roads and how in the community where he lived, if you hit a cow, you had to pay for it because it is your fault for not seeing it, not the cow's fault. So Yaconelli asked a farmer friend why the cows get out so much and the farmer replied, "Well, they're all kinda sitting there in the big feed pasture and they see a little green tuft of grass and they go over and start nibbling on it. Then they see another tuft of grass over there and they walk over and they start nibbling on that one. They see another one right by the fence and they go and nibble on that one. And then they see one on the other side of the fence and they kinda push their head through the fence and the next thing you know, they've nibbled their way to lostness." * * __ * ,db' * * ,d8/ * * * 888 `db\ * * `o`_ ** * * * _ * * / ) * (\__/) * ( ( * ,-.,-.,) (.,-.,-.,-.) ).,-.,-. | @| ={ }= | @| / / | @|o | _j__j__j_) `-------/ /__j__j__j_ ________( /___________ | | @| \ || o|O | @| |o | |,'\ , ,'"| | | | hjw vV\|/vV|`-'\ ,---\ | \Vv\hjwVv\//v _) ) `. \ / (__/ ) ) (_/ I suspect it was that way for Ceasar, too. He might have gone down in the yard chasing a bird, then to the edge of the garden, then to the woods behind the garden seeing another bird or squirrel or cat. I doubt he intended to run away or end up lost and with a broken leg. It happened gradually, like us when we stray away from the people, home or morals we were brought up with. We stop going to church. We see something that looks inviting, fun to do, see or be. We flirt a little. We tell a little lie. We wear more provocative clothing. We fudge on taxes. Or we wander away from the goals we've set for career or parenting, and get distracted by the latest thing. But someone, at least God, is always waiting to take us home, take us back. As the husband put it in the Robert Frost poem, "Death of the Hired Man" when the hired man comes back "home" to die: "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take in." And the wife countered, "I should have called it something you somehow haven't to deserve." God's mercy is such that we are welcome back home whether or not we deserve it. As the parable of the "prodigal son" teaches us in the Bible, God is always willing to take us back: "While the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion and ran to him, threw his arms around him and kissed him" (Luke 15:20). What a picture of God's love, mercy and acceptance. Even if we have wandered off for a spell, even if we have fallen or gotten trapped and broken a limb or too, God is waiting and wanting to welcome us back when we "nibble our way to lostness." -- Contributed by Melodie Davis from her weekly column ANOTHER WAY (http://www.thirdway.com/aw/awmain.shtml) For information on using Another Way in a local newspaper, contact: ANOTHER WAY 1251 Virginia Ave. Harrisonburg, VA 22801-2497 or call 1-800-999-3534; fax at 540-434-5556; or email me at: Melodie@mennomedia.org From Daily Wisdom To subscribe, mailto:dw-subscribe@lists.gospelcom.net ================================================================= >-->From CupO'Cheer: (( )) )) (( (( )) )) (( || || | \_______/ | | _ | | =')_// | | (___/ | | ~~~~~ | | BIB | \_________/lc >BIBS OR APRONS? (Author Unknown) "For even I, the Son of Man, came here not to be served but to serve others, and to give my life as a ransom for many." - Matthew 20:28 I recently visited a fast-growing church in Minnesota to learn from their staff. It was a privilege to witness their passion for doing high quality ministry in Jesus' name. I left with some new insights and renewed passion for the Gospel. One of the phrases that I heard while I was there was, "We want our members to wear aprons, not bibs." Here's what they meant: Bibs are for people who only want to be fed. Bibs are for those who are not yet ready or willing to feed themselves. Bibs are for those who are more interested in being served than in serving. Bibs are for those who insist that the church exists for them and their needs. Bibs are for babes in the faith, those who haven't caught God's vision for the church, or those who are not yet of the faith. .-""""-._.'| / '.| | / | / | -= | /| ( | |/`< ) ) ( ; -=| _| ) \ \ / ____ /) '._ _.-""-.< .' `\/) / / \ / _ .'`/| _ / | '-._( __\ (__/_/=, ( \| \ -=/ /--;==========` ._,;'\==='-,..__/__/__.' `'--/,/ || ' \ / | / || ' \ \/ . || ; jgs / / || | | . || | / '=------| / ' ; ; ;| `-.___.___.___.___._/ Aprons are for those who have a heart to serve others in Jesus' name. Aprons are for those who know that they are the church. Aprons are for those who don't mind getting their hands dirty. Aprons are for those who take the time daily to feed their spiritual hunger. Aprons are for those who are growing in faith, and hunger to help others grow. Church growth consultant, Win Arn, interviewed thousands of Christians in America several years ago and asked them, what they thought the church existed for. Eighty-eight percent said, "The church exists to serve my needs and the needs of my family." In other words, 88% of Christians in America are still wearing bibs. On the night when he was betrayed, just hours before he was crucified, the very Son of God took off his outer garments, wrapped a towel around his waist, and washed his disciples' feet. When he was done he said, "I have just given you an example to follow." In other words, Jesus called his disciples to wear aprons, not bibs. In Matthew, Jesus is recorded as saying, "For even I, the Son of Man, came here not to be served but to serve others, and to give my life as a ransom for many." He also said, "If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give it up for me, you will find it." Jesus calls us to wear aprons, not bibs. Which are you wearing? Bringing It Home: 1. How would you answer the question, "Why does the church exist?" Does your answer reflect your bib or your apron? 2. How can you help others in your Christian community to trade their bib for an apron? 3. If you're not already serving in a ministry in your church, make a commitment to begin this month. Prayer: "Lord Jesus, thank you for feeding me daily with your word. Fill me with your redeeming love. Open my eyes to clearly see the needs of those around me, and then open my hands to serve them. Each day, strengthen me with your Spirit, so that I might choose to wear an apron, not a bib. This I pray in your name. Amen." --- , , /////| ///// | ///// | |~~~| | | |===| |/| | B |/| | | I | | | | B | | | | L | / | E | / |===|/ jgs '---' ...Check out these teachings... Babes In Christ http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/babesinchrist.html Christianity and The Renewed Mind http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/christianity.html -<>- ____ / ___`\ /| ( ( \ \ |^v^v V| \ \/) ) ) \ ____ / \_/ / / ,Y` `, / / || - -) { } \\ _\ | | | \\ / _`\_ / / / | ~ | ``\ _|_| ,-` \ | \ \ ,//(_} / | | | \/ \| | | | | | ' ,\ \ | | \ / /\ _/` | | \ | | | | `` | | | \ \ | | | | | | |/ | / / | | | | | >YOU ARE NOT NAKED I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty awesome at applying band- aids. And make no mistake, there is an art. Because if you go too quickly and unpeel them the wrong way, they stick to themselves and you end up with a wadded up useless mess instead of the Little Mermaid festooned bandage your daughter so desperately wants to apply to a boo boo that may in fact be 100% fictional. Half of the injuries I treat at the Acuff house are invisible or simply wounds of sympathy. My oldest daughter will scrape her knee and my 3-year old, realizing the band aid box is open will say, “Yo dad, I’d like to get in on that too. What do you say we put one on, I don’t know, my ankle. Yeah, my ankle, let’s pretend that’s hurt.” But sometimes the cuts are real, like the day my 5-year old got a scrape on her face playing in the front yard. I rushed in the house and returned with a princess bandage. As I bent down to apply it to her forehead, her eyes filled up with tears and she shrunk back from me. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I don’t want to wear that band-aid.” She replied. “Why? You have a cut, you need a band-aid.” I said. “I’ll look silly.” She answered. Other than her sister and her mom, there was no one else in the yard. None of her friends were over, cars were not streaming passed our house and watching us play, the world was pretty empty at that moment. But for the first time I can remember, she felt shame. She had discovered shame. Somewhere, some how, this little 5 year old had learned to be afraid of looking silly. If I was smarter, if I had been better prepared for the transition from little toddler to little girl, I might have asked her this: “Who told you that you were silly?” I didn’t though. That question didn’t bloom in my head until much later and I didn’t understand it until I saw God ask a similar question in Genesis 3:11. To me, this is one of the saddest and most profoundly beautiful verses in the entire Bible. Adam and Eve have fallen. The apple is a core. The snake has spoken. The dream appears crushed. As they hide from God under clothes they’ve hastily sewn together, He appears and asks them a simple question: “Who told you that you were naked?” There is hurt in God’s voice as He asks this question, but there is also a deep sadness, the sense of a father holding a daughter that has for the first time ever, wrapped herself in shame. Who told you that you were not enough? Who told you that I didn’t love you? Who told you that there was something outside of me you needed? Who told you that you were ugly? Who told you that your dream was foolish? Who told you that you would never have a child? Who told you that you would never be a father? Who told you that you weren’t a good mother? Who told you that without a job you aren’t worth anything? Who told you that you’ll never know love again? Who told you that this was all there is? Who told you that you were naked? I don’t know when you discovered shame. I don’t know when you discovered that there were people that might think you are silly or dumb or not a good writer or a husband or a friend. I don’t know what lies you’ve been told by other people or maybe even by yourself. But in response to what you are hearing from everyone else, God is still asking the question, “Who told you that you were naked?” And He’s still asking us that question because we are not. In Christ we are not worthless. In Christ we are not hopeless. In Christ we are not dumb or ugly or forgotten. In Christ we are not naked. Isaiah 61:10 it says: For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness. The world may try to tell you a thousand different things today. You might close this post and hear a million declarations of what you are or who you’ll always be, but know this. As unbelievable as it sounds and as much as I never expected to type this sentence on this blog: You are not naked. --Jonathan Acuff, http://stuffchristianslike.net/2009/04/512-thinking-youre-naked/ (The Timothy Report, www.timothyreport.com) To SUBSCRIBE: Send an e-mail with SUBSCRIBE CUP O'CHEER in the subject line to cheer316@sc.rr.com. ================================================================== \\ ///// | | (| _ _ |) |` | '| | __ | >>>___/\_^__/\___<<< / ||| \ Mike Hertz >-->Soldiers Angels I am a member of Soldiers Angels and every week they send me names and addresses of soldiers whose names have been submitted because they receive little or no mail. It is so sad when their buddies are eagerly reading letters from home or opening packages like it's Christmas morning and others get nothing day after day. I invite you to go to http://www.soldiersangels.org where you will find links, pictures and a lot of other information on how you can get involved. The troops especially enjoy receiving letters from kids because kids usually draw pictures on them. They said they hang those in their eating area so everyone can enjoy them. If you have children, have them write a letter “Dear Soldier…” I try to put a few cards and letters from children – or even adults – in the boxes, particularly those going to someone who needs an extra lift. -- Proud Soldier's Angel |\ |\ |\ |\ || .---. || .---. || .---. || .---. ||/_____\ ||/_____\ ||/_____\ ||/_____\ ||( '.' ) ||( '.' ) ||( '.' ) ||( '.' ) || \_-_/_ || \_-_/_ || \_-_/_ || \_-_/_ :-"`'V'//-. :-"`'V'//-. :-"`'V'//-. :-"`'V'//-. / , |// , `\ / , |// , `\ / , |// , `\ / , |// , `\ / /|Ll //Ll|| | / /|Ll //Ll|| | / /|Ll //Ll|| | / /|Ll //Ll|| | /_/||__// || | /_/||__// || | /_/||__// || | /_/||__// || | \ \/---|[]==|| | \ \/---|[]==|| | \ \/---|[]==|| | \ \/---|[]==|| | \/\__/ | \| | \/\__/ | \| | \/\__/ | \| | \/\__/ | \| | /\|_ | Ll_\ | /|/_ | Ll_\ | /|/_ | Ll_\ | /|/_ | Ll_\ | `--|`^"""^`||_| `--|`^"""^`||_| `--|`^"""^`||_| `--|`^"""^`||_| | | ||/ | | ||/ | | ||/ | | ||/ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | L___l___J L___l___J L___l___J L___l___J |_ | _| |_ | _| |_ | _| |_ | _| jgs (___|___) (___|___) (___|___) (___|___) ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ May no soldier go unloved May no soldier walk alone May no soldier be forgotten Until they all come HOME! >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! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -->Pass this on as it should be of interrest to all who served. The study was carried out in Austrialia on their Vietnam Veterans. ABC Nat. Radio Health Report Autralian Vietnam Vets: http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/HealthReportVV.mp3 VV ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -->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 ************************************************************************