The Good Shepherd... :) 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!! ================ >-->Hot Off The 'Shangy' Press :) This hot tottie comes from a forward from our friend PatDeE. These folks figured out how to solve their problems in some of the most hilarious ways! Check it out here... .------------------------. | PSYCHIATRIC | | HELP 5¢ | |________________________| || .-"""--. || || / \.-. || || | ._, \ || || \_/`-' '-.,_/ || || (_ (' _)') \ || || /| |\ || || | \ __ / | || || \_).,_____,/}/ || __||____;_--'___'/ ( || |\ || (__,\\ \_/------|| ||\||______________________|| |||| | |||| THE DOCTOR | \||| IS [IN] _____| \|| (______) jgs `|___________________//||\\ //=||=\\ MacGyber - How To Do It 4! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/macgyver4.html --- ...So very clever and FUNNY! I love this series! Thanks PatDeE! ============================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: _.-"""""'. .;__ `\ / `\ | ;a/ a `'. _ | ,_ |/_ _) / .-.-. {(}`\ \.___, \.' | | '--''-.( \_ _ / \ / .-\_ _."-.... ;_ ` .-.-. _/ '--. \ | | ."\ _/\ , | \ / / \_.' /'./ ; ` \__.' '-./ ' / __/ `\ / .' ``""--..__\___/ / | | , | \ ';_ / \ \`'-...-' \ \ | __ \ \ /-----; '. .--\_.-"\ | \ jgs / |._______|\ \ \_____,__/ '.__| >FIRST DEGREE ROMANCE by Joseph Walker Well, it's finally happened. After 33.5 years of marriage and 34 Valentine's Days as a couple (I count that first one because I was TOTALLY concentrating on her from across the room during that church Valentine's dance even though she was so busy being a dancing queen with that one ballroom dancing guy that she didn't even notice me), Anita and I have hit the wall -- Valentinsically speaking. This realization dawned on me last night, shortly after the following conversation (the "I saids" and "she saids" have been omitted because, frankly, I forget who said what): "Well, Valentine's Day is coming up." "Yeah." "So... what do you want to do?" "I don't know." Pause. "What do you want to do?" "I don't know." Another pause. "Do you want to go out to dinner or something?" "We could do that, I guess." Still another pause. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" "I don't know." Pausing yet again. "What do you want?" Sound familiar? Please don't misunderstand. It's not that the fires of romance have gone completely cold in our relationship. It's just that Anita and I are... well... older than we used to be, and we both channel so much energy into daily living that it's kind of hard to generate much enthusiasm for life's hearts and flowers. I mean, do you really think Anita wants to have me chase her around the house all night after she's spent the day chasing information from the world financial markets at her office? Romance is a very different thing for us today than it was 34 years ago. And that's OK, I guess. "Different" doesn't necessarily mean "worse." It can also mean "deeper," "richer" and "more fulfilling" -- especially if we can find a way to follow Janet and Jerry's example. Janet and Jerry have lived in our neighborhood for years. They raised a good family together. They were successful enough in their professional lives that they had a lovely home and the time and means to do the things they wanted to do in their retirement years. But for all of that, there was never any question in the minds of those who knew them well what was most important to Janet and Jerry -- Jerry and Janet, respectively. You could see it in the way they held hands at church. You could hear it in the kind, loving, respectful words they used to talk about each other -- even when the other wasn't within hearing distance. And you could feel it, palpably, whenever you were with them --the stolen glances, the knowing winks, the gentle teasing and words of praise. Every shred of evidence convicted these two people of First Degree Romance. Jerry died recently after a long and difficult illness. And while I don't think any of us who knew them will ever get used to seeing Janet sitting by herself at church, I'm not sure we'll ever be able to see Janet without seeing a little of Jerry there, too. They became so much a part of each other, so inseparably connected, it's almost as if their love transcends death. Which, in a very real way, it does. "I've always drawn strength and energy from our love for each other," Janet told me not too long ago. "That hasn't changed. It's different now, obviously. But the love remains, and still gives focus and meaning to my life." So I guess it's OK if the onset of Valentine's Day doesn't set our hearts aflutter like it used to. Life's seasons ebb and flow, and the only thing we can absolutely count on is that things will change. But change can be a positive thing, even in our most cherished relationships. Hearts can grow fonder even as they grow older. Love can be compelling even when it is calm. Passion can burn at any number of different temperatures. And romance can flourish even when you're too tired to be romantic. Valentinsically speaking, or otherwise. -- Joseph Walker ============================================================== >-->From Our Friend linda :) [get out the tissues] - One of the Sweetest Prayers I've ever heard... .-=.-~, /{,_;--'}, | .=~`|//| | / ; \ | __, || | | | .' \/\ |\| | | |\ / \ /_| \ | | /|'/ / | \ /_ | ,_ `\ \/|/ / /` \ /__/ /\/`'. `\ `./.'/\ /.--' |_\ / \ '. /|\/| // | _\ / | | | \ \/// .""'-. \__\ / .'/| | `)`/__//_/_/_\ '--.\ /\/_| |} /.---. \ \ \ / \\ |\/_/| | //` `'...-' .-""'. \\\/ /{| |// /_\_\_\\__\`(` | / \ / / / .---.\ | | '-..,'` `\\ | |} jgs \\| | \ | | | {| | | | | | | |} | | |/ >Dear MR GOD: I'm sorry for keepin' ya up late. But, I wanna know If'n you're too busy, I can wait. You see grandma's been forgettin' A lot of things. Mamma says so. She forgot my name, today, Mr. God, And she's a walkin' kinda slow. Yesterday, she jest left Without even sayin' bye. Daddy brought her back and He had a tear in his eye. So, I was wonderin', can you fix her? She has somthun' called 'all tizers', daddy said. She forgets who we are sometimes, And she forgot that grandpa's dead. Mr. God, you give her a new brememberer 'Cause I miss her playin', and stuff, with me And the cookies she used to bake. And, she was so smart, wasn't she? She used to talk 'bout you a lot. Now, she jest talks to herself and, Mr. God, she don't know herself From the pictures on the shelf. Sometimes, she calls me 'little boy' And pats my cheek or hair. And she don't seem to care. Please, Mr. God, Will ya fix her, all new again, A'fore she gets lost and Can't bremember where she's been? She ain't sang a Jesus song Like I like to hear her to do. Daddy says 'cause she is getting old. But, she's not as old as you. Daddy says you never forget and You are older than anyone, anywhere. Mamma says, "All we can do is Bremember her in prayer. So, Mr. God, I'm jest askin' 'Cause I don't know how to pray. 'Cause you un'erstand what I try to say. Does Jesus have a grandma And does she forget people, too? I guess she would be your mommy And wouldn't she be older than you? Well, I gotta go to bed. Would ya keep grandma safe, O please, So as she won't wander off and get lost? She forgets her hat and coat, and she could freeze. I love her lots and I wish she bremember I'm her little Andy And bake some good cookies for me, And even share my candy. Tell my friend, Jesus, I was here and Give Him a hug from grandma and me. She used to know Him and I heard her say, "Thank you, Jesus, for little Andy." Good night, Mr. God. Are ya tired? You work, so hard, all day. I'll be back a'morrow, to visit, Before I go out to play.XOXOXO --- ...Thank You Linda! A heartwarmer - especially when you know somebody suffering like this. Just remember 'the thief' that Jesus speaks of here... John 10:10 The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. Not only steals your material treasures but also your most personal and most valuable treasures as well. ============================================================ >-->From Our Friend John-Paul :) _,._ __.' _) <_,)'.-"a\ /' ( \ _.-----..,-' (`"--^ // | (| `; , | \ ;.----/ ,/ ) // / | |\ \ jgs \ \\`\ | |/ / \ \\ \ | |\/ >~A Georgia Ditty~ Mary had a little lamb, Down in the Old Georgia State, And soon it grew to be a Ram, Most dismal was it`s fate. It`s fleece was long, white, and full, And Mary loved to shear, Her lamb for the great amount of wool, It brought her twice a year. But then, upon a Summer`s day, She learned, to the dejection, Her wool investment didn`t pay, And so she craved protection, Oh, with many words pleading, And copious flow of tears, She flew to the local Banker dealings, To set at rest her fears. But the Banker Man in scorn did hold, Poor Mary and her Kid, And when their tale of woe was told, No kindly act he did. Then in vain for help the maiden cried, Upon her bended knees. "No tariff, girl" the man replied; "Go, serve your lamb with potatoes and peas!" So, poor Mary slew her little sheep, Which might well have been expected, For little lambs aren't worth their keep, When they are not protected. Oh, my, why do I write such? {must be Old Age} (LOL) Always~~~Jp --- ,-''''-. (. ,. L ___...__ /7} ,-` `'-==''`` ''._ //{ '`. \_,X , : ) 7 ;` : , / \_, \ ; Y L_ __..--':`. L | /| ```` ; y J [ j J / / L ; | |Y \ /_J | | L_J/_) /_) L_J /_) sk /_) ...TeeHee. I love it! Thanks John-Paul! Reminds me, again, of this... John 10: [10] The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. [11] I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. [12] But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. [13] The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep. [14] I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. -<>- \ \ ` / / ' \ ` \ ` ' / / ` ' \ . * * * * * . / ` \ ` * * * * * * * * * / \ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ' \ ` @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ / \ ` * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ' / ` @ @ @ @ * '@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ \ * * * * * * * * * * * * * ' ` @ @ @ @ @ Come @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ / * * * ** sit under the * * * * * * * * \ ` @ @ @ @ @ rainbow & 'sides @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ ' * * * * * the Pot of Gold * * * * * * * * / ` @ @ @ @ @ with me. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ . * * * * * * * * * * * * *. \ @ @ @ @ @ @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ * * * * * \---, ` ` ' ' @ @ @ @ @ ____/' \ / ` \ @ / ' * * * * * /` _ .~ ./\ ` @ @ @ ' ' __ / \ \ ^ ' ` \ `@_@_@_@'/ ' (x \ ( \ _ \_\ \_\ ( ) \ \/ / \/ `-'__`-' _ `' \ $ $ $ / - - ~'- - - - ( @ )- --`'- - - - - - `'- -- ------ - --``~~~''-- -- - - --- - - --_- ___ - --- -- --- >AFTER THE STORM After the storm, A rainbow appeared. Brillant streamers formed, And as they neared, I rushed to find a pot of Gold. It's at the end I've been told. But, when I peered Into the potted vase, I looked upon your lovely face. With hands extended, I pulled you free. Of all the gold, YOU MEAN MORE TO ME! Always~~~~John-Paul~ ~~~~~~~You Are A `Keeper`~~~~~~~ Their marriage was good, their dreams focused.. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress; lawn mower in his hand, and dish-towel in hers.. It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we `keep`. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be a little wasteful somehow. Waste meant affluence. but Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more. Then-- In the winter of 1991 my brother passed away. I lost my favorite uncle in 1994. The whole World came crashing down-- In the Summer of 1996. That was when my Dad finished his life, and went to sleep forever. But the final blow came in that year in November, that was when --- My Mother Died -- on a clear afternoon--- in my arms. I told her I loved her, and gave her to the Lord as I laid her down. I was alone! Suddenly I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any More. Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away ...never to return. So ..While we have it its best we love it ... And care for it .... And fix it when it's broken ... And heal it when it's sick. This is true ...For old cars ... And children with bad report cards ... Dogs and cats with bad hips .... And aging parents ... And grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and friends. We keep them because they are worth it, and because we are worth it. Some things we always keep. Like a best friend who moved away, or a classmate we grew up with. There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special ... yes, they are very special. And so, we keep them close in heart and mind and spirit. You will always be -- to me, one that is Special -- A real `Keeper`-- In~My~Heart~~John-paul --- ...Aww, ditto to you John-Paul! Thank You! ================================================================== >-->From Archives InspiredBuffalo: _ _ ( \/ ) .---. \ / .-"-. / 6_6 \/ / 4 4 \ \_ (__\ \_ v _/ // \\ // \\ (( )) (( )) =======""===""========""===""======= jgs ||| ||| | | >Connie O Roger Dean Kiser Once in a while a song comes on the radio which sends us back in time. That is what happened to me yesterday while I was driving to the doctor's office. It's not so much that the song took me back to my younger days but more that it let me know what kind of a person I was becoming during my youth. "O-Connie, O-Connie I miss you sooooo" went the song. I could feel a tear come to my eye as the music played on. It took me back to when I was a young boy about seventeen. I was working at Phoebe Putney Memorial Hospital in Albany Georgia. While eating my lunch at the hospital I heard several people in the lunch room talking about a young sixteen year old girl on the maternity ward. They laughed and talked about her as if she was a worthless human being. That she was not married and that she was having a baby. I got up from my seat and placed my tray in the kitchen window. Then I walked to the elevator and made my way up to the maternity ward. I walked behind the nurses station and I began to look through the medical charts. "Can I help you?" Said the head nurse as she walked around the corner. "I looking for some information for Doctor McCall." I told her. "Well, if Doctor McCall wants any information on our maternity patients he will just have to come up here himself." She stated. I looked down at the opened chart that I held in m hand. I saw that the patient was 16 years old and that her name was Miss Cornwell. I placed the chart back into the chart rack and walked back to the elevator. Within several hours that was all that anyone was talking about in the hospital. After the changing of shifts I went to the lab and borrowed, you might say, a white lab coat. Once again I took the elevator and made my way back to the maternity ward. "What room is Miss Cornwell in" I asked the nurse. "Right across the hall." she replied, as she pointed to a closed door. I walked into the room and before my eyes sat a very beautiful young pregnant girl. "Who are you?" She asked me. "I have to make sure all the windows are closed" I told her, as I walked over to the curtains to check the widows. "What is your name" She asked me. "Roger. What's yours? I asked. "Twila." She said. I was very nervous and did not know what to say to her. "You are really very pretty." I said to her. She turned over and covered her head and I left the room. The next day I sent two flowers to her room with an anonymous note telling her how pretty she was. I wanted to go back to see her but I was just to scared and nervous. Early the next day I heard that she had her baby. Now everyone was really talking about her. I made myself walk up to her room. When I walked in she was holding her baby in her arms. "Thank you for the beautiful flowers." She said. "I didn't send no flowers." I said back to her. "Well, nobody else around her has told me that I was beautiful." She said with a smile on her face. I did not know what to say. I looked at her baby and told her that it was beautiful too, just like her. I asked her if she would do me a favor and listen to the radio between 7 and 8pm. She told me that she would. After I got off work I walked to the radio station and asked the man if he would play a song titled "Connie-O" sung by the Four Seasons. It was a song that I had heard several days before. I was seventeen now and on my own. I was playing the song for Twila because I was going to ask her to marry me the next day. I did not want her to have to live with people talking about her having a baby and not being married. I got the man at the radio station to play the song for me at exactly seven o'clock. The next day I went up to her room with two flowers and I opened the door. I could not believe my eyes when I saw that the room was vacant. "Where is Twila?" I yelled out at the nurse. "She was dismissed early this morning." She told me. I never saw her again after that. Some years later I married and I named my own daughter "Twila." I guess we can all look back into our past and see many things that we might have done that were a little crazy, or a little stupid. But it is good to know when I look back at those days that I was a good boy with a good heart and I think that makes being a little stupid ok, sometimes. -<>- >My Forever Valentine ...... ...... .:oOOOOo:. .:oOOOOo:. .:oOO:'':Oo:. .:oO:'':OOo:. .:oO: 'Oo:oO' :Oo:. :oO: 'o' :Oo: :oO: :Oo: ':oO: :Oo:' ':oO: B E :Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' 'oO:Oo' ...... 'oOo' ...... .:oOOOOo:.'o'.:oOOOOo:. .:oOO:'':Oo:. .:oO:'':OOo:. .:oO: 'Oo:oO' :Oo:. :oO: 'o' :Oo: :oO: :Oo: ':oO: :Oo:' ':oO: M Y :Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' 'oO:Oo' ...... 'oOo' ...... .:oOOOOo:.'o'.:oOOOOo:. .:oOO:'':Oo:. .:oO:'':OOo:. .:oO: 'Oo:oO' :Oo:. :oO: 'o' :Oo: :oO: :Oo: ':oO: V A L E N T I N E :Oo:' ':oO: :Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' ':oO. .Oo:' jgs 'oO:Oo' 'oOo' 'o' By Pamela Underhill Altendorf The traditional holidays in our house when I was a child were spent timing elaborate meals around football games. My father tried to make pleasant chitchat and eat as much as he could during halftime. At Christmas he found time to have a cup or two of holiday cheer and don his holly-shaped bow tie. But he didn't truly shine until Valentine's Day. I don't know whether it was because work at the office slowed during February or because the football season was over. But Valentine's Day was the time my father chose to show his love for the special people in his life. Over the years I fondly thought of him as my "Valentine Man." My first recollection of the magic he could bring to Valentine's Day came when I was six. For several days I had been cutting out valentines for my classmates. Each of us was to decorate a "mailbox" and put it on our desk for others to give us cards. That box and its contents ushered in a succession of bittersweet memories of my entrance into a world of popularity contests marked by the number of cards received, the teasing about boyfriends/girlfriends and the tender care that I gave to the card from the cutest boy in class. That morning at the breakfast table I found a card and a gift- wrapped package at my chair. The card was signed "Love, Dad," and the gift was a ring with a small piece of red glass to represent my birthstone, a ruby. There is little difference between red glass and rubies to a child of six, and I remember wearing that ring with a pride that all the cards in the world could not surpass. As I grew older, the gifts gave way to heart-shaped boxes filled with my favorite chocolates and always included a special card signed "Love, Dad." In those years my thank-yous became more of a perfunctory response. The cards seemed less important, and I took for granted the valentine that would always be there. Long past the days of having a "mailbox" on my desk, I had placed my hopes and dreams in receiving cards and gifts from "significant others," and "Love Dad" just didn't seem quite enough. If my father knew then that he had been replaced, he never let it show. If he sensed any disappointment over valentines that didn't arrive for me, he just tried that much harder to create a positive atmosphere, giving me an extra hug and doing what he could to make my day a little brighter. My mailbox eventually had a rural address, and the job of hand- delivering candy and cards was relegated to the U.S. Postal Service. Never in ten years was my father's package late nor was it on the Valentine's Day eight years ago when I reached into the mailbox to find a card addressed to me in my mother's handwriting. It was the kind of card that comes in an inexpensive assortment box sold by a child going door-to-door to try to earn money for a school project. It was the kind of card you used to get from a grandmother or an aging aunt or, in this case, a dying father. It was the kind of card that put a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes because you knew the person no longer was able to go out and buy a real valentine. It was a card that signaled this would be the last you would receive from him. The card had a photograph of tulips on the outside, and on the inside my mother had printed "Happy Valentine's Day." Beneath it, scrawled in barely legible handwriting, was "Love, Dad." His final card remains on my bulletin board today. It's a reminder of how special fathers can be and how important it has been to me over the years to know that I had a father who continued a tradition of love with a generosity of spirit, simple acts of understanding and an ability to express happiness over the people in his life. Those things never die, nor does the memory of a man who never stopped being my valentine. -<>- ,@@@@@@, ,@@@@@""@@, ( _ _ , @@@@@ 6.6\@ :\ ( \/ ) {{^\@@@C _-_)@ : \ \ / {{:\\@@@) (@@' : \ \/ (\/) {{::\\ / \---.:.__\_ \/ \`::\( , \---:---._) `"`"; \ \|_.-;====I======{> | \ _.-': / (\/) | `"/ : / \/ // \/ : / \\_ \ :/ \ \ | ( ) ) ) / / / jgs / / /_ (_(____) >A Valentine For Laura By Don Caskey Ann, a friend of mine, disliked Valentine's Day as a girl. She was plain - not ugly, but not beautiful. Valentine's Day is not kind to plain girls. It wasn't so bad in elementary school, when the obligatory thirty valentines arrived: one from each classmate. She overlooked the fact that her cards were not oversized like those of the popular girls, and did not contain the love notes like those of the pretty girls. But later, in middle school, the valentine exchange was no longer mandatory. Just when the yearning for romance budded, when the desire for admiration and flirtation became imperative, and a valentine was needed most, no card arrived. Not for Ann. Not for plain girls anywhere. Only for the pretty and the popular. At such a time, stories of ugly ducklings that will one day turn into beautiful swans do not assuage the hurt and rejection. As fate would have it (and often does), in subsequent years Ann did become pretty and turned many a boy's head. As she received more attention and flirtations, she came to feel - and therefore to be - very beautiful. But even years later, grown and with a family of her own, she did not forget those long-ago days of rejection and dejection. Today, Ann's family includes two boys in middle school. For a dollar, their Student Council will deliver a Valentine's Day carnation. Ann gives a dollar to each of her boys to buy flowers for their girlfriends. Then she adds another dollar apiece with the instruction: "Pick another girl, one who is nice but plain - someone who probably won't get a flower. Send her a flower anonymously. That way she will know that someone cares, and she will feel special." Ann has done this for several years, spreading Valentine's Day a little beyond her own world. One year, Laura, who was plain to behold but beautiful to know, received one of these gifts. Ann's son reported that Laura was so happy and surprised, she cried. All day long, she carried the flower on her books and chattered with the other girls about who her admirer could be. As Ann heard the account, she too had to dry her eyes - for she remembered. -<>- >Links for Your Enjoyment Mardi Gras, its history and origin and culture http://www.theholidayspot.com/mardigras/origin.htm Gift of Hearing Foundation http://www.giftofhearingfoundation.org/ Children Go Where I Send Thee by Tennessee Ernie Ford http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VwqWcn2gbTM Paul Zerdin, ventriloquist without a dummy http://www.boreme.com/posting.php?id=27735&page=1 -<>- 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 BabyLissa's and LynnLynn's Trivia - Daily Trivia Game http://my.funtrivia.com/tournament/BabyLissas-and- LynnLynns-Trivia-2463.html -<>- ) ( ( ) ( ) ( ) ) ( ) ( /^\ /^\ /^\ /^\ /^\ /^\ jgs (_K_) (_I_) (_S_) (_S_) (_E_) (_S_) SPECIAL LINKS For Valentine's Day.... POEMS: Friends Together http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/poems/together.html I Need A Hug! http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/poems/hug.html It Takes Two! http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/poems/two.html Love's Lust! http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/poems/desire.html Moody Is My Day http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/poems/need.html TEACHINGS: Our Valuable Anchor http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/ouranchor.html Choose His Children? http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/choosehischildren.html You Are The Only You God Has http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/BibleStudy/onlyyougodhas.html SPECIAL PAGES: Best Friends! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/poems/bestfriends.html Friendship! http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/friendship.html God's Little Love Notes http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/notes.html Love Thoughts http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/love.html Love Test http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/lovetest.html What Is Love 1 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/wlove1.html What Is Love 2 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/wlove2.html What Is Love 3 http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/wlove3.html Would You Care? http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/care.html Jesus Laughing Art http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/Jesusart.htm A Love Story http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/lovestory.html Akiane Child Prodigy http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/prodigy.html Tale Of Two Swallows http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/swallows.html =========================================================== ...:::::::... ...:::::::... .:::::::::::::::::. .::::::::::::::::::. .::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::. .:::::::::::::::::::'.-=.-~, ':::::::::::::::::::. .:::::::::::::::::::' /{,_;--'},'::::::::::::::::::::. .:::::::::::::::::::: | .=~`|//| :::::::::::::::::::::. .::::::::::::::::::::: | / ; \ | :::' __, '::::::::::::. .:::::::::::::::::::::' || | | | :' .' \/\ ::::::::::::. .:::::::::::::::::::::: |\| | | |\ / \ /_| :::::::::::::. ::::::::::::::::::::::. \ | | /|'/ / | \ /_ | :::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::' ,_ '::: `\ \/|/ / /`.: \ /__/ ::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::: /\/`'. ':. `\ `./.'/\ : /.--' .:::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::: |_\ / \ ::. '. ,/|\/| // '''''::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::: | _\ / | .:: | | \ \/// .""'-. ::::::::::::: :::::::::::::: \__\ / .: .'/| | `)`/__//_/_/_\ :::::::::::: ':::::::::::::: '--.\ : /\/_| |} /.---. \ \ \ / :::::::::::' '::::::::::::'' \\ |\/_/| | //` . `'...-' :::::::::::' :::::::::: .-""'. \\\/ /{| |// .:::::....:::::::::::::: '::::::: /_\_\_\\__\`(` | '/ :::::::::::::::::::::::' ':::::: \ / / / .---.\ | | :::::::::::::::::::::::' '::::::. '-..,'` .:.`\\ | |} ::::::::::::::::::::::' '::::::......:jgs:: \\| | ::::::::::::::::::::' ':::::::::::::::::: \` | ::::::::::::::::::' ':::::::::::::::: | | ::::::::::::::::' ':::::::::::::: {| | ::::::::::::::' ':::::::::::: | | ::::::::::::' ':::::::::: | | ::::::::::' ':::::::: | |} ::::::::' ':::::: | | ::::::' ':::::. |/ ::::::' ':::.....:::::' ':::::::::' ':::::' ':' >And the Roses Story Editor: by Marcia Mathis Joyce Schowalter Alabama, USA I was so tired that night in February 2002. All I wanted was to stay home but I needed groceries badly so I made my way to the giant discount store. Naturally, it was packed and I was getting peevish. At the checkout line I was behind two other shoppers. The first was a middle-aged couple, a burly biker with tats and a do-rag and his woman in like dress. Behind them was a tiny old woman with gray hair dressed in sweatpants and a ball cap. The biker family was evidently shopping for a party and their buggy was full of party stuff: beer, chips, hot dogs and the like. In stark contrast was the little old lady's buggy, which contained only two enormous bags of dry cat food. "Hank" was busily unloading their cart when I began to chat with the little old lady. I remarked that she must have a lot of kitties and she told me that she fed a colony of feral cats who lived near a dumpster behind a shopping center close to where she lived. I could tell Hank was listening to our conversation. As we talked it became clear how much the little old lady loved her wild cats. She told me how long she'd been doing this and how hard it was. But they depended on her, and it was something she not only felt she had to do but wanted to do. Soon Hank unloaded the remainder of his cart and then added a bunch of roses they had in a display at the checkout for last-minute Valentine's shoppers. Hank's wife got out her wallet to pay for their purchases. Then Hank turned to the little old lady and said, "Would you allow me to pay for your cat food? I love cats and I'd like to help with what you're doing." Now the little old lady, startled by this kind offer, was speechless for a moment and then said "Oh, I couldn't let you do that..." but Hank insisted he'd really like to and was so sincere. He smiled, reached over the lady's basket to pull the two bags of cat food out of her buggy and asked the cashier to ring them up on his bill. Then he took the roses he had just bought, turned and presented them to the little old lady and said "Happy Valentine's Day". By this time I had a big lump in my throat, the little old lady looked as though she was about to weep, and the cashier was wearing a smile that stretched clear across her face. I was so grateful I had decided to shop that night. Otherwise I would have missed witnessing such beautiful generosity and kindness given from one stranger to another. =======HeroicStories======= >-->From KidWarmers: .--. .--. : _ \/ _ : _\/ \ 6 6 / \__\ ' / \'--'/ \__/_ /\ /\ \ / \/ \ \ / jgs _\ /_ (__\ /__) THE FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY Lynn's 6-year-old son Justin had a phone conversation with his kindergarten "girlfriend" who he went to school with before they moved last summer. They both told each other how they missed each other. Lynn heard him tell her that he loved her, and later she asked what she had said. Justin told Lynn his "girlfriend" had said she loved him three times. "Three times? My goodness!" Lynn said, and Justin replied, "Well, Mom, we're boyfriend and girlfriend. We're SUPPOSED to say we love each other!" Lynn then told him they were a bit young to be so "in love" and he really needed to wait until he was older to decide if he loved someone. He thought about it for a moment, and then said, "So when I'm about 11, I can be in love?" -- Lynn Bowie of Gonzales, Louisiana _ ______ / `'. ,-"` '. / /'-.'. ___ .' \ \/ '.\.' ' | .| .'`\ | /`"'--., / \ , _.--'` \/_ | ,----.| _ `_--;` ``` `\-. | | \ | -- C -- _/ \ \ | \ 0 0 / . | | \| ) | '. _.' |.__/ ; \ `'---` / / __ '. .' | (__) /'-._____,-` \ /---'.-""-.\ '. / ||,- \\ ;---`;-._||-= |\ , ."""-. \ ) `|'.___.' \ ___ \'. / '-. \ /`-`-; / \ ,/ `) \ \| \ `` | | \|| / /'.| )_ / || | | \/ .' \ \ .-'/ ` |` |.-' .-~ ~-~-._ |.'` \ ` '-. \___/,__/ ~` _ `~~-., `-.,_\_)`-.,_\) `~-,___ ~___~,,..-~~/ jgs \___/`\____/'._.' Jodi's family recently vacationed in the Dominican Republic. It was quite an experience for Zack, 8, and Brooklyn, 6, and they especially liked helping to tip the maid, bartenders, tour guides, bus drivers, etc. On the way back home, once the plane had landed, Zack loudly asked his Dad, "Do we have to tip the pilot now, too?!" -- Jodi (mother of Zack and Brooklyn) of Ontario, Canada .-. .-. ( \/ ) .-. .-. \ .-. .-. ( \/ ) \ ( \/ ) \ .-. .-. / \ / jgs \ ( \/ .-. .-. / .-. \.-.\ ( \/ )/ ( \/ )\ /\ // \ / \ / \ / \ / \/ \ / \ / \/ \/ Peggy's neighbor had a truck cap sitting on his lawn with a "For Sale" sign on it. Peggy drove by the house a number of times with her 4-year-old granddaughter Kirsten. Peggy noticed that each time they drove by, Kirsten would get quiet, as though she were thinking about something. Finally, one day Kirsten turned to Peggy and asked, very seriously, "Grandma, how come they buried that truck?" -- Peggy Verburg of Angola, Indiana .0. / \ ; \_/ ; | | | | | | _______; ;_______ `======='\ /`=======` \ / _ | | _ _( \____|=|____/ )_ ( .---. .---. ) `-' / \ '-' / HUG \ ; ; | .---.|__, jgs : / :--' .--\ \ | `" `"".-' < =""` `"== `""""""` =""` `"""===="""` =""` `""==="""` One day Suzanne picked up her daughter Cassandra, 7, after work. Cassandra insisted that they go to a local Italian restaurant for dinner. Suzanne explained a couple of times that they were on a limited budget and they could not afford it because they charged more than $5 per person to eat. After a short pause Cassandra piped up, "But Mom... we can still eat there because we don't eat persons... It will be free for us!" -- Suzanne of Clair, New Brunswick ____ ____ '###\ \ / /###' ,\\\\\ | /////, __ \ .--. .--. / __ ___\/ ' | ' \/___ -- _, ! | ! ,_ -- / '! | !' \ /'/ ! | ! \'\ 1# ! \ 0|0 / ! #1 !# \ '--; ;--' / #! ` `\ `-' /` ` \## `--~' '~--` ##/ `-___________-` [Mash] When Ben was picked up at his day care he said, "Mom, I'm so hungry I feel like a poor person!" -- Cheryl Cumpston (friend of Ben's family) of Tennessee ,@@@@@, ,@@@@@, ,@@,;;;,@,;;;,@@, @@;;;' ';' ';;;@@ @@;;; ;;;@@ '@@';;, ,;;'@@' '@@';;,;;'@@' '@@';'@@' jgs '@@@' '@' Caleb, 2, loves to go on a drive through the country to look for deer. One evening a big buck ran across the road in front of them. Caleb exclaimed, "Look, Mommy, he's got big mufflers!" (He meant antlers.) -- Patricia Stover (mother of Caleb) of Red House, West Virginia ,-----. / \--. | / \ `. \-+-',___/ \ \ \ \ ,--\/"""\"". `._ / \ \ \ _ `| ( \ o\o|.,--. `-' \ \`-;---'-'( #) `._ \ |\ `--/ \. \ ||,`. / \`..--.._ ||/ `===='. \/ _`.__|| .-. \ \ | / \ |'| `. ! | \ \_/ \_.') \ ! | ,"". . _/ \ / / ;`--'\ \ \ `-' | |`-< \ \ \ | |\ \,---. \ \ \,---. | |,---. `.\ \,---. `. > `. | | \ `.| ( | |-'-' ( | |' `-------'-' `-----'-' hjw Colton Jacob, 4, was talking about people going to heaven. His grandmother told him about giving his heart to Jesus. A little while later Colton Jacob asked, "Mamaw, what does Jesus do with all of them hearts he gets, anyway?" -- Brenda Agan (grandmother of Colton Jacob) of Elizabethton, Tennessee .-"""-. .-"""-. / `..' \ _ | ___ _ _ _ _ | .-' / | | ( \/ )| | | ///// < <======\ | \ / | | /====<<<<< '-._\ \ _|_ \/ \_/ / \\\\\ `\ /' jgs `\ /' `\ /' `\/' Chandra (who is nearing 40) was lying down with her son Derek one night. She was answering questions, as she often does just before bedtime. Derek told her she knows a lot; then he added, "I don't know very much yet because I am only six. You know lots because you're old. You're half-way to dead already!" (Not a very nice thing to hear, but Chandra realized he might be right.) -- Chandra Schraefel of Kerrobert, Saskatchewan .-"""-. .-"""-. / `..' \ _ | | .-' / | | ///// < <======\ /====<<<<< '-._\ \ / \\\\\ `\ /' jgs `\ /' `\ /' `\/' Elizabeth was babysitting for a family with five children. While getting dinner ready one night she asked Andrew, 4, what kind of vegetable he would like with dinner -- green beans or brussel sprouts. "I want the muscle sprouts!" he said. "Muscle sprouts make you strong!" -- Elizabeth Ely of Trumbull, Connecticut .-""""--. _ _ / ) ( \/ ) / --"` \ / _ _ / _`:____ \/ ( \/ ) | .-' `\ \ / \ / .----'./ \/ \ : ,-' ~(.).)\ _ _ \_| \ ._) | ( \/ ) _ _ / | \.__, / \ / ( \/ ) _.--' )`///-,-' _ _ \/ \ / / / _| (_\\ ( \/ ) \/ | (____/____) \ / \ ___/ | _ \/ `---( ` ) `-, .' (__.'._/'._/ |`| | __/ / / // | `--. || /_____) jgs `=---` Alissah kept getting in bed with her parents at night. Her mother told her, "Alissah, I want you to sleep in your own bed and please let me sleep in my own bed with my own husband." In the wee hours of the morning, Alissah tapped on her mother's shoulder and whispered in her mother's ear, "Can I please sleep with your husband?" -- Jill Richards (Alissah's aunt) of Palm Springs, California ============================================================ .o##o. .o##o. ######o.o###### ############### .o88o. .o88o##########' 888888o.o888888########' 888888888888888######' '8888888888888'#####&o. .o&&o. '88888888888' '#&&&&&o.o&&&&&& '8888888' &&&&&&&&&&&&&&& '88888' '&&&&&&&&&&&&&' '8' '&&&&&&&&&&&' H A P P Y '&&&&&&&' v a l e n t i n e'&&&&&' D A Y '&' >-->Love Is... Love is an emotion of many colors. It's every color of the rainbow's hue. It makes the grass a little greener And the sky the most beautiful blue. It makes my sun rise every morning... Chasing moonbeams on its way. It makes me happy to face the trials of another day. It cares for me in times of pain. It holds and caresses me again and again. It's my anchor in life's ocean of storms... And every day I wake to the joy of living... Because I have your love to keep me warm. This is dedicated to all the people in my life... who made my life...for without them... I would not have had a life. I Love You. There is not a single person that I have ever known... that I can't remember the good in them. Happy Valentine's Day All you good people! http://www.my-tgif.com/LoveisDurney.htm -<>- .-"""-. .-"""-. / `..' \ | | | H A P P Y | \ VALENTINE'S / __\ D A Y ! / _ / |`\ /' | \ \/_/ `\ /' \_\| / __ `\ /' \/_/__\ `\/' .--='/~\ ____,__/__,_____,______)/ /{~}}} -,-----,--\--,-----,---,\'-' {{~}} jgs __/\_ '--=.\}/ /_/ |\\ \/ >-->A Prayer The Light of God surrounds me; The Love of God enfolds me; The Power of God protects me; The Presence of God watches over me; Wherever I am, God is, And all is well. - James Dillet Freeman >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 ************************************************************************