Wrapping Up Christmas ... :) Shangy! >Here are the details on our Yahoo ShangyFunList: To Subscribe send a blank email to ShangyFunList-subscribe@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 =========================== >-->In The 'Shangy' News: Mostly, like you I bet, I have been taken care of family business here at home and not having a lot of time to spend on my cyber home at Shangrala. The New Year is coming though and after it is here, I will be getting back to my normal things on the internet. I was able to update the FUN URL Links Here: http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/urls.html And updated club picture along with adding new photos from our members here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShangyFunList/spnew?yguid=77014325 If you are planning on an Early New Years Bash ... . . : . '.@.' /^\ / \ /2008 \ @@@@@@@@@ / 6 6 \ ( ^ ,) \ __, /-._ `._____.'\ `--.__ \\/ `/``"""'-. / ) / : | /\ | .--. : / /\2`\ \/ `.__.:.____.-. / / /`\0`\`/ .-"..____.-. \ jgs _.-' /_/ `\0`\ \-. \ `=----' `\8`\--------'""`-. \ `" `-./ `" Please Be Careful and Have a VERY SAFE AND FUN NEW YEAR CELEBRATION! Our Friend Janice said it very nicely... MAY GOD GIVE YOU A BLESSED YEAR! -- Janice --- ...Thank You Janice - Right Back at you - With Lots of Love! :) ==================================================================== >With Her Help Story Editor: by Mark J. Mitchell Joyce Schowalter California, USA Dad was diagnosed with small-cell cancer, terminal. "Enjoy what life I have left," he said. He had three good years before his downhill slide. Then a family call said it was time to head north to see Dad as his time drew near. I booked a flight as soon as possible to meet brother Paul and sister Claudia in Sacramento. One can imagine my mood as the plane cut through the air. No smiles for anyone on this "bummer trip". I sourly walked through the Sacramento terminal, in no hurry to get anywhere -- especially the hospital. Ahead was a woman with a little girl on her shoulder looking backwards at me. Out of nowhere this girl's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Out of her mouth came one word: "Santa!" HO .----. HO .' ,_ \ _ HO /__ ( \| / ( . {___`'-.\{_} | `|_ /6)6`'-._} \_.'_} |/_ _7 | {_.'| |5-.' /( | \{\ /:'`} \ /.\__/ _.'`\ \ ; o ``` \ ; o \ \_ | o \.'` } ; o_ {__.'\ \==[_]=======|/) | `; .' /_/ / `- / / / /\ \ {`-._/ \ _.'`} ;-.__} {__.'\ __/ / \_ \ ( ` / / / jgs '.__/ (__.' Now, I've got long silver white hair, a full beard and mustache, and while I'm not the fat man always depicted, I fit this little girl's vision of Santa Claus. Stopping dead in her tracks, her mother spun around. As she started to apologize for her daughter's outburst, I put my finger to my lips and said, "Sssh! I'm on vacation!" The little girl broke out into a great big smile and shook her head yes. Her mother only smiled and walked away. Her daughter gazed back with her big smile shining. Her smile changed my mood -- and my life. I put it in mind that I wouldn't show Dad anything but a smiling face. At the hospital, I found myself needing the facilities. While washing up, I thought of a way to lighten up the situation. Taking ten feet of toilet paper, I stuffed one end into my pants. I had a tail. Out the door I went -- much to Paul and Claudia's astonishment. Claudia piped up with, "Mark, do you know what you have following you?" "Yep," I said. "That I do." "Oh, jeez," said Paul. Arrows painted on walls led to the ICU. All along the way people pointed and laughed. I continued on my way like there was nothing wrong with this world. A glance over my shoulder showed Paul and Claudia following quite distantly. The ICU nurses nearly busted a gut laughing. They pointed at Dad's room, and off I went. Howls of laughter followed me. Dad was sitting up, trying to see what all the commotion was. Taking one look at me standing in the doorway, he said, "I should have known it was you!" I walked to his bedside, gave him a big hug and kiss and told him how much I loved him. Later, Dad called Mom over for a kiss. Saying, "See you in Paradise, honey," away he went. I wish I could thank that little girl. Without her help, I would have been in tears and not much good to Dad. Because of her, Christmas took on a new meaning, which I try to keep alive throughout the year. "Peace on Earth, good will to all." =======HeroicStories======= >-->From InspiredBuffalo: The Day After Christmas _____ .'~ ~ ~`. | a a | `. ~ .' .----'(>o<)`----. ( S S ) `---. o .---' ; o : ; o : / \ jgs / /\ \ .-' ~~ / \ ~~ `-. `.___.' `.___.' 'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the room Strewn wrappings were crying for use of a broom. The children were scattered the friends' gifts exploring Since now most of theirs were broken or boring. All tummies still stuffed from the fabulous feast; Leftovers would serve for one month at least. And mama and papa were the countryside ranging, Those unwanted gifts returned or exchanging. Yes Christmas is past with its bustle and noise— Sales and carols Santas and toys. Decorations are packed the yule tree's discarded The holiday's over just as we got started To celebrate peace and the meaning of giving To discover real love and the purpose for living. Dear Jesus please help us to stop and remember That you came to earth not just for December. But from birth in a manger to death on a cross You gave up your glory and counted it loss. So now as we trust You— God's only Son— The real celebration has only begun! Copyright 2007 Dave Veerman. Permission is granted to send this to others, with attribution, but not for commercial purposes. -<>- _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ /` \/ `\ _ _ /` \/ `\ _ _ /` \/ `\ _ _ /` \/ `\ \ / /` \/ `\ \ / /` \/ `\ \ / /` \/ `\ \ / '. .' \ / '. .' \ / '. .' \ / '. .' \/ '. .' \/ '. .' \/ '. .' \/ jgs \/ \/ \/ >CONNECTED By: Joseph J. Mazzella When she was in her eighties a lifetime of health problems finally caught up with my Grandmother and forced her into a nursing home. It was a difficult time for us all. I had grown up in her home as a child and lived just across the road from her as an adult. It was hard seeing her then losing weight and confined to a wheelchair. Still, we adjusted. My children and I would load up the car every Saturday for the 25 mile trip to visit her. She always had a tender hug and loving kiss waiting for us. The nurses there fell in love with her too. Her loving but feisty spirit touched them all. She made them laugh and smile and sometimes even taught them a few choice words of Italian that they didn't need to know. I can remember the whole family gathering to celebrate her 90th birthday in that nursing home cafeteria. The entire room was filled with love. In the last few years of her life, however, my Grandma's mind started to fail her as well. Sometimes she would know us when we visited her and sometimes she would not. As she got worse and worse I would often just sit with her and hold her hand. Words were no longer needed. Her body may have given out and her memory may have left her, but in those moments I felt connected to her soul. I knew that her spirit would soon pass from this world, but I also knew that the love we had shared would live on in my heart always. Even now years after her death I still feel that connection. I still feel that love. It reminds me everyday that we are all one family in this world. We are all Children of God. We are all here to love each other, to help each other, and to grow in oneness with each other. We are here to build bridges to each other's hearts and to find connections to each other's souls. Don't be afraid to love others then. Don't be afraid to share your life with them. Yes, you may suffer pain and even loss. But as my Grandma taught me so well, the love you share will live on forever. -<>- /\ //\\ //||\\ // || \\ //\ || /\\ //'.\||/.'\\ //___> <___\\ //------------\\ // \\ // .-"-. \\ // ( (`\) \\ // '-/| `\ \\ // .-"-. / | || \\ // (.-. ) / | || \\ || / /)-' =`-.| || || ||/ / '-| .-""-. | =\| || |/ |'./ (__()__) | | || / /\====\ /==| |=|| /_.-' | >--< |-.-| || jgs |----' `-.-' || >The Greatest Man The Greatest Man in History Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master. Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher. Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer. He had no army, yet kings feared Him. He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world. He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him. He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today . I feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us! If you believe in God and in Jesus Christ His Son, send this to all on your buddy list .. if not just ignore it. If you ignore it, just remember that Jesus said ... "If you deny me before man, I will deny you before my Father in Heaven." --- ...AMAN! -<>- | -=*=- (| (} | |/||\ {\ | || ___o /|/_ jgs | || X--X |__\ >A modern day Christmas Miracle. As explosions shook the earth and echoed for miles and ear pounding heavy artillery fire blew-up everything it reached, the stench of death seemed everywhere and thousands of civilians fled for their lives. It was Christmas time 1950, and this part of the Korean War was being fought near the port city of Hungnam in North Korea as the Chinese and North Korean armies were pushing out the U.S. and South Korean armies. Tens of thousands of innocent civilians got caught in the middle. Offshore, the U.S. Navy shelled the advancing forces. On shore, the docks were overrun in chaos jammed with 105,000 U.S. and South Korean troops and all around them were 90,000 frightened North Korean civilians trying to get out. It was then the U.S. merchant marine vessel, the Meredith Victory, captained by Leonard LaRue was ordered to rescue as many civilians as it could. Ordinarily it delivered ammunition, tanks and trucks to the U.S. troops and was designed to carry just 47- crewmen and 12- passengers. "I trained my binoculars and saw a pitiable scene," Captain LaRue recalled. "Korean refugees thronged the docks. With them was everything they could wheel, carry or drag. Beside them like frightened chicks, were their children." On the dark, cold night of Dec. 22nd, the Meredith Victory began boarding the refugees. To make as much room as possible, Captain LaRue had them leave their possessions behind. Somehow 14,000 passengers were squeezed into the five cargo holds and shoulder to shoulder across the deck, a miracle in itself. The next day, the Meredith Victory headed for Pusan, South Korea, through heavily mined waters with no mine detection equipment. The holds had no lighting so the people stood in the dark. The toilet facilities were vastly inadequate, there was little food or water, no translator, no blankets, no doctor and the only weapon was the gun in the captain's pocket. Like a roller coaster, the ship rose and fell with the powerful waves and conditions on board were miserable. Some passengers were claustrophobic and sea sick but they held on for their survival depended on it. On Christmas Eve, they arrived in Pusan and everyone was greatly relieved and anxious to leave the ship. Then Captain LaRue was told by South Korean officials Pusan was already overrun with refugees, and the Meredith Victory was turned away. The officials suggested they go to Koje Do island, 50 miles southwest. The conditions seemed unbearable. The air was frigid, on board supplies scarce and they would have to again bear it, with the hope they could dock at Koje Do, for as in the biblical story, Pusan had no room at the Inn. They arrived at Koje Do on Christmas day and found the dock was tiny and packed with people. But this time they were welcome. They were joined by two U.S. Navy landing craft normally used to deliver tanks on shore in combat conditions and those craft delivered the 14,000 refugees on to the dock. Not a single refugee died during this perilous journey and five tiny refugees were born. 14,000 people had been saved under seemingly impossible circumstances. Later the U.S. Maritime Administration called it the greatest one ship rescue operation in history. Captain LaRue was deeply moved by what happened and he was never the same again. He was a veteran of the merchant marines from the Korean War and World War ll and remained in command of the Meredith Victory until 1952 when it was decommissioned. In 1954, Capt. LaRue dramatically changed his life. He said goodbye to the sea and his career to become a monk with the Benedictines at St. Paul's Abbey. As Brother Marinus, he spent the rest of his life, until his passing in 2001 at the age of 87. "I think of how such a small vessel was able to hold so many persons and surmount endless perils without harm to a soul," he remembered. "The clear, unmistakable message comes to me that on that Christmastide, in the bleak and bitter waters off the shores of Korea, God's own hand was at the helm of my ship." -<>- | '.|.' -= + =- ___ .'|'. ___ ******* | ******* /-====) | (_.- )) | / '( )' ) )) / / _/ \_( (( | |-( _ _ )) ) ) / | \ //| |\\ /'-( ( / \ \/\/ *** \/\/ / ) ) | |\ / .=. \ / ( ( `-;./ ;-' _\/(")\/_ '-; ) ) | \ |'---'| / ( ( | \ _| |_ / ) ) _/ | /\ /\ | ( ( jgs .-/ / '=' \ ( )-. `""---`-----` `----`----`""` >Christmas 1989 by B.J. Cassady Vince, my son, was A.W.O.L. from my life for some time. His birthday is December 13th. In the year 1985, I had not heard from him for some time and decided to drive to his house in Texas. There, I found my lost child, a man, but still a child to me. He sat on a wooden chair with a blanket around him, huddled in front of a kerosene heater in a home void of furniture (other than the chair), a home void of electricity, and normal heat. I took my son and brought him home for Christmas. I fed him well and nurtured him back to health. We developed a plan for him. That Christmas was filled with tears and joy, tears of what might have been. Joy of what was. I remember reading about another Father who took His Son home once when He was tired and alone. We should do the same when we can. B.J. Cassady -<>- __ /\ __ __ /\ __ __ /\ __ __ /\ __ \_`\/`_/ .\'/. \_`\/`_/ .\'/. \_`\/`_/ .\'/. \_`\/`_/ <_>()<_>-=>*<=-<_>()<_>-=>*<=-<_>()<_>-=>*<=-<_>()<_> /_,/\,_\ '/.\' /_,/\,_\ '/.\' /_,/\,_\ '/.\' /_,/\,_\ \/ \/ \/ \/ .\/. .\/. -=><=- -=><=- '/\' '/\' __ /\ __ __ /\ __ \_`\/`_/ T H E L I S T \_`\/`_/ <_>()<_> <_>()<_> /_,/\,_\ /_,/\,_\ \/ \/ .\/. .\/. -=><=- -=><=- '/\' '/\' __ /\ __ __ /\ __ __ /\ __ __ /\ __ \_`\/`_/ .\'/. \_`\/`_/ .\'/. \_`\/`_/ .\'/. \_`\/`_/ <_>()<_>-=>*<=-<_>()<_>-=>*<=-<_>()<_>-=>*<=-<_>()<_> /_,/\,_\ '/.\' /_,/\,_\ '/.\' /_,/\,_\ '/.\' /_,/\,_\ \/jgs \/ \/ \/ "Did you make the list today?" "No, it seems I'm not on it. Oh, I didn't want to be any way." "Hey, he removed my name from the list! ' "There's a list of names here, and they are the finalists." "From this list, we will pick the lead role for the play." "Yes, I have a reservation for 2. What? My name's not on the list?" "He's making a list and checking it twice. He's gonna find out whose naughty or nice!" Lists are important it seems. We get excited when we see our names on certain lists and depressed when we don't. I've been on lists I wish I hadn't been on. I've made lists that surprised even me. Here's one I want you to think about. I received this message in response to my last story about my son attending high school in the midst of all the violence these days. My story was called, "God be with him." One of my friends on this list wrote: "Bob, Recently in my hometown a 15-year-old girl committed suicide. Her note named all the school classmates who had made fun of her…" Imagine for a moment finding your name on that list. How horrible that would be. What if our actions were tallied each day? At the end of the day, your name would end up on one list or another. What if someone was keeping track of all you said and did? Let's pretend for a moment that there were three lists. One was a list of all who were compassionate, caring, loving, giving people who made a difference in the world they lived in. Not just those striving to save the world. But the average person who took the time to listen to a stranger. The person who smiled at a passerby. The people who called to check on a friend who was ill. The volunteers who gave their time to their community. The ones who didn't respond to anger with a word of anger in return, but prayed and forgave another for their actions. List two is everyone who turned away from the cry of the hungry, the lonely, the lost. The people who pushed and shoved their way through life so that they could get ahead. The people who in an emergency thought only of themselves and stood in line first, knowing they really didn't need it but thought they deserved it. The people who curse the homeless for the "good tax dollars we waste on them." The people who won't forgive and carry grudges and hate in their hearts forever. The people who perpetuate racism and prejudice by repeating those stupid demeaning jokes, "all in fun". Those people who joined in with the rest of the crowd and mocked, ridiculed and laughed at another. The third list...is just as bad. They choose to do nothing. "I mind my own business. I stay out of it. It's not my responsibility. The world is going to hell and somebody should do something about it. But not me." Imagine for a moment that those lists were made public. Imagine for a moment that everyday you were permitted to see the lists of your friends and all whom you came in contact with that day. What list would your name appear on? Imagine again that beautiful 15-year-old child, sitting with a piece of paper in the last moments of her life. Tears and anguish, pain and sobbing filled her final moments, as one by one she wrote their names on the list. Did you make "The list today?" Which one? "I believe in you!" By Bob Perks Bob@BobPerks.com -<>- Links for your enjoyment: Funny George W Bush At His Best http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121105.htm gagvid0048 http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121106.htm gagvid0079 http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121107.htm German Ad for Cat Food http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121108.htm Frank Caliend on Letterman http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121101.htm friend sare for http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121102.htm From Metcalfe Impossible http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121103.htm Funny kids http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121104.htm To Subscribe to this group, send an email to: the-inspired-buffalo-subscribe@yahoogroups.com =============================================================== >-->From Heartwarmers: _ / \ | | _j_ | | _.-"""""-._ .::' '. /::' /\ \ ;::' |\_ / ( ; |: ) \oO__/ | ;' `-'.O\ ; \ / / / jgs '._ \_( _.' '-.....-' >MEMORY TREE by Michael T. Smith I pulled the boxes of ornaments from the closet and prepared myself for a trip into the past. No photo album can bring back as many memories as my box of ornaments. Like a picture, each ornament contains a memory. There's the box of wooden ones, handmade and painted with care. Within the assortment is a small man on skis, a mouse on a swing, even Santa in his sleigh. I remember when my Georgia and I had bought them. It was our first Christmas as a married couple. We hung them on the tree and dreamed how our future children would love them. I picked up a ceramic Santa. My aunt gave it to me when I was four. He holds a tiny box in his hands. There's a tear in its wrapper -- a tear caused by a boy who couldn't contain his curiosity. A tiny brass bell is next. My brothers and I had fun with this bell. We took turns hiding it in the tree. The others had to find it. We played "Find the Bell" until mom yelled at us for shaking the tree to make the bell ring and reveal its hiding spot. Mom knew how much the bell meant to me. The year I had my own family, she gave me the bell. I played the same game with my own children. I picked up a pretty red ball. When our daughter was two, we'd put Vanessa down for her nap and decorated while she slept. We wanted to surprise her. When we finished, I sat back with a glass of eggnog and waited for her to wake up. I can see her now -- running from her room, fully charged and ready to take on the world. She was five feet from the tree before she looked up and stopped. Her eyes opened wide. Her jaw dropped open, as she emitted a small cry of delight. She walked forward, raised her hand, and touched a red ball -- the ball now held in my hand. She tuurned to me. Her eyes reflected the colored lights. "Daddy, what is it?" "It's Christmas, Sweetie. It's Christ's birthday. We're going to celebrate it." Her sparkling eyes, hanging jaw, and soft skin made me hold my arms out. She ran into them and gave me a hug that could have melted even Scrooge's hard heart. I picked up a cracked green ball, a veteran of the first time I allowed my kids to decorate the tree. They hung all the balls on one branch. When they turned for another, I quickly moved the one before it to a better spot. I laughed when they told Grandma they decorated all by themselves. Near the bottom of the box, I found a brass plaque. It brought back a special memory. It has my son's name and birth date on it. Justin was supposed to be a New Year's Eve baby, but he decided he wasn't going to miss Christmas. Justin was three weeks old, when we took him to the Christmas Eve service at our church. That night, our minister explained to us the real meaning of Christmas. As she spoke, she wandered down the aisle and stopped beside us. She reached down and asked, "May I?" I nodded and handed him to her. She lifted him into her arms. She was quiet as she walked back to face the congregation. Turning, she held my son high and said, "This is the real meaning of Christmas. The birth of a new life!" She cradled my son as she spoke, but the ringing in my ears prevented me from hearing her words. Tears glistened on my cheeks, as she walked around the sanctuary displaying my son to those gathered for the Christmas service. The room was empty of everyone but her and my family. Overtaken with emotion, I reached out and hugged Georgia and Vanessa to my side, and thought, "This will be a Christmas to remember." In 2003, I pulled the ornaments out again. Justin and I were not going to be home for Christmas that year. We were going to spend Christmas with friends in Ohio, but I wanted Christmas to be the way it always was. I wanted Christmas to be the way Justin remembered. Georgia died two months earlier. Justin and I were alone in New Jersey. Vanessa was in Ohio. It had to be the way it was before -- the perfect tree. The ornaments -- the memories -- had new meaning that Christmas. The memories of her death were raw, but the tree overcame them. A tear trickled from my eye. Good things may pass, but their memories hang on. Last year, I hung a new ornament on our tree. It was one I got for my new wife, Ginny. It's a penguin. She loves penguins. This year, I have one she gave me to hang. It's a glazed ball with a penguin dressed in an Ohio State football colors, my favorite team. New pages have been added to my album. I hang my personal album for all to see, sit back and relax. For several weeks, I search my magical tree, until I find my special spot. I don't know where it is, but I know it's there -- a spot where light shines perfectly on one or two balls and reflects off a length of tinsel. It's perfect in every way. I lock my eyes on it and enjoy its beauty. I relive my life. It's there for all to enjoy. I invite you to share it with me. Look at the ornaments. Flip the pages. Share my life. It's my memory tree. -- Michael T. Smith ____________________________________________ Michael lives in New Jersey and is currently working on a collection of stories to be called, From My Heart To Yours. You can read more of Michael's stories at: http://subs.zinester.com/86758 ____________________________________________ >A RIDE AROUND THE BLOCK It was the day after Christmas at a church in San Francisco. The pastor of the church was looking over the cradle when he noticed that the baby Jesus was missing from among the figures. Immediately he turned and went outside and saw a little boy with a red wagon. In the wagon was the figure of the little infant, Jesus. The pastor walked up to the boy and said, "Well, where did you get Him, my fine friend?" The little boy replied, "I got him from the church." "And why did you take him?" The boy said, "Well, about a week before Christmas I prayed to Baby Jesus and I told him if he would bring me a red wagon for Christmas I would give him a ride around the block in it." ___________________________________________ Logan, the 12 year old kid cowboy from Houston (call to radio station) http://youtube.com/watch?v=zCdZwitrNoY ======================================================================= >Blessed Change By Jaye Lewis ssSSss SSS`SSSS S|e e SSS SS\_-__SSS SS.-\_/SSS / \ /\/| |\/\ / / |__,|/ / /|| / /|| / \ `-._____.-' | | | jgs |-|-| .-` / \ '---\_/ “They are twelve and thirteen year old girls who need you,” the urgent voice told me on the other end of the phone. I took a deep breath, holding the phone away from my ear. How did these people get my number? The youth group had a leader for every age group except for the twelve year olds. “Will you take the group?” I could hear the desperation in the caller’s voice. Mentally I began to organize all the reasons to say “no.” I had two small children. Who would take care of them? I had the perfect excuse to refuse this assignment, and I probably would have, if the woman had left one sentence out of her argument. “They’re losers, you know,” she said, as icy shock coursed through my veins. “And you’d be so perfect for them! Just keep them out of trouble. That should be easy for you.!” Losers! I understood what that meant. That was one of my titles when I was twelve. Who came up with that word? Who decided that a twelve or thirteen year old has earned the title of loser? What a terrible word! “I’ll do it,” I agreed, with misgivings. Now, all I had to do was find someone to watch my daughters. I could feel myself wanting to back out, but I could not get that word out of my mind. Losers! I did not want that word to define another child’s life. I arrived at camp in the pouring down rain. I was nursing the tail-end of a cold, and medically, this was the worst place on earth for me to be. As the counselors piled out of the cars, we were immediately herded into the camp dining room for instructions. We were given our assignments, and I was pulled aside and given some surprising news. “We didn’t want to tell you until you got here. We were afraid you’d back out!” Oh boy! I couldn’t wait. “What are these girls? A bunch of juvenile delinquents?” I joked. “Well, in a word…YES!” The counselor gave me an encouraging grin. "I see. Anyone been in prison, yet?” I asked, knowing the answer. “Well…they don’t call it prison..” I couldn’t wait. “It’s a girl’s home.” Well, this was just fine!!! I had left my little babies with someone I barely knew, and I’d come to this soaking-wet, flea-bitten camp to be informed, after my arrival, that I was in charge of a group of girls from a…let me not forget…a girl’s home! Well Lord, I guess it’s just you and me, and the delinquents, I thought, as I gave the Counselor a withering look and headed for my cabin. Too bad it was raining. No, it was more like a deluge. We were all going to be stuck in our cabins until supper, with nothing to do except stare at one another. We piled into the cold cabin, the girls and I arriving just minutes after each other. They didn’t look so bad. My gosh! They were just kids. How bad could a twelve year old be? They stood looking at me, and I looked at them. I quickly identified them as the “model,” the “actress,” the “groaner,” the “comedian,” and the “spook.” Each one wanted to be someplace else. But there was something in their faces, an indefinable need that whispered to me, I need to belong! Immediately I felt the touch of God upon my heart. All my doubts and fears evaporated, and I knew that this camp with these girls was exactly where He wanted me to be. He had given me an instant glimpse into the hearts of those young girls. He reminded me that I once knew exactly what it felt like to be them. I too had hungered to belong. I, too, had acted out with fake nonchalance, trying to cloak my fear, my insecurity, and my loneliness. Then and there, I decided, that I would place my trust in the Lord to lead me through the dark valley’s of my understanding, and I would allow Him to give me everything I needed to show Him to them. I found my bunk, and I placed my belongings on the mattress. As I turned towards the girls, their eyes traveled over me. I gave each girl a searching look. There was a long pause, and I thought we needed a little laughter to get us going. “Well,” I began. “Has everyone checked in with her parole officer?” I could see the shock register, and I heard their gasps. “I know that I’ve checked in with mine,” I continued, merrily, “and he gave me permission to spend this week with you!! Lord knows I sure do miss prison,” I finished with a grin. Suddenly the ice broke. Someone gave a nervous laugh, and we all cracked up. It was a defining moment. The barriers came down, and we all became real with one another. Each girl confessed her crime ­ kid’s stuff even for those times. Then I confessed my one brush with the law, when I had been caught shoplifting at just their age. It had been terrifying, but I was grateful, because it gave me an incentive to change. We spent an entire week together talking about all the contents of our hearts. We ate with everyone else, and we suffered together on six mile hikes. They learned to work and play as a team. We grew to love each other. They were hungry for love and acceptance, and I was hungry to give them both. I made them laugh when things got tough. They showed me that they were capable of courage and honor. I tried to show them that they could change. They excelled that week. They actually came in first, well above the seniors however camp policy dictated that the seniors would win first prize. I was furious, but even in disappointment my girls proved that they could be gracious. I was so proud of them! They taught me, and everyone else, the true definition of being a winner. So, my precious girls, you taught me more than I ever taught you. You opened a window into my soul that I never knew existed. You slipped so deeply into my heart, that after more than thirty years I can still recall your faces. I’m quite certain that God did not send me to change your life, rather, He sent you to change mine. Jaye Lewis jayelewis@comcast.net Write Jaye and let her know your thoughts on her story! =======HeartWarming======= >-->From SermondFodder: >Gifts Your Wife RETURNED From You For Christmas 10. A car wash kit 9. A table saw 8. Two all-day passes to Circuit City's Home Theatre Installation Seminar 7. A case of oil 6. Five-year subscription to Sports Illustrated 5. Custom engraved bowling ball 4. New outboard motor for fishing boat 3. Rambo Trilogy on DVD 2. New satellite dish with sports package 1. Three-year membership to Weight-Watchers Clinic From Pastor Tim's CleanLaugh List: http://www.cybersalt.org/cleanlaugh>http://www.cybersalt.org/cleanlaugh -<>- God made us sisters, Hearts made us friends. .--. /`\| / .;;.;;;;. '-.""""-./;;;;;;;;;\ / / \ \;;;;;;;;;;| / | \;;-;;;;;/`\ .' / | \ '| \()| ;. __'._/ | \__.\ _/;;`--/ } / '.-'`"""`'-._ \;;;-'\.' \ __\'-.__-' /`-' _.' \ ;\-_- //`''-'-._.-' | __|_'---'`-..______,.____.../__ |_.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._| __| || || || || || || || || || || | |\ | || || || || || || || || || || | \\ | || || || || || || || || || || | |\\|_||_||_||_||_||_||_||_||_||_||_| ||\|.---..---.--.---.--..--.---..-.| || ||jgs \ / / | || | || || || || \/_ / _|==||==| || || || | |`\ ( `-| '-| || || \ _\_/ '.__/\__/ || >An Emotional Involvement With God An article in one of our local papers told about a fellow who did his masters thesis on the stress experienced by teenaged athletes. This school psychologist concluded that teenage athletics is a religion. It's true! The passion for the game; the cheerleaders stirring the crowd to an emotional frenzy! As the clock ticks down the final seconds, the two teams go into overtime! We rarely criticize such emotional involvement, except when there is emotion with God. After all, we don't want to be accused of being radical. Getting excited about basketball is only natural. But why get all excited about God? Why get emotionally involved with Jesus Christ? The point is this: If you are going to participate in a religion, you had better get involved in true religion rather than false religion. Now basketball is not innately evil. It is a game. Basketball is not a god, nor are basketball games religious services. But to treat them as such is to engage in false worship. Better that you should engage in true worship of the God of the Bible. Better that you should become emotionally involved with Jesus Christ. The First of the Ten Commandments says, "You shall have no other gods before Me" (Exodus 20:3). False worship is sin. Jesus Christ died to pay the penalty for sin due to people like you and me. When you turn from false worship, you must turn to Christ. When you turn to Christ, you must trust in the sacrifice of Christ as the only payment for your sins of false worship. Quite frankly, you must become emotionally involved with Christ. You see, true faith is a matter of heart. It involves your mind, your will and your emotions. Contributed by Dr. Dennis J. Prutow djprutow@rpts.edu Voice message and free tapes: 1-800-777-0389 [USA] Or order your free tapes online: http://gci.gospelcom.net/dw/free_tape.html Today's cassette is 192 Visit Dr. Prutow's site: http://www.w-e-m.org/ ================================================================= >-->From Perwarmers: >FELINE WRAPPINGS by Sally Kemple * /.\ /..'\ /'.'\ /.''.'\ /.'.'.\ "'""""/'.''.'.\""'"'" jgs ^^^[_]^^^ With Christmas right around the corner and no children in the house, our two cats entertain us while we prepare for the holidays. Once the tree is up and decorated, both our cats enjoy sitting back and watching the lights twinkle and the tinsel wiggle back and forth. Neither one has attacked nor considered mutilating our tree, as some cats do, but instead appear to be in awe of the tree's beauty. Miss Sara's favorite position is to lay on her back under the tree with her feet hanging close to her body while she stares up into the branches, while Sir Kona admires the whole tree from the nearest windowsill. Last year, Sir Kona turned on the lights whenever he wanted by pushing the button on the power strip. He's been fascinated by push buttons since he was a small kitten so it took him little time to learn this. Miss Sara looks at that same button, taps it, but hasn't the finesse needed to perform this same trick. I watch my cats' hearts fill with anticipation as I walk into the house with arms full of shopping bags. Miss Sara's curiosity is piqued first, and she's the most anxious out of the two and can't wait for me to set them down. She's always been interested in an empty bag tossed to the floor, but with the bags her curiosity is alive and well. Sir Kona couldn't care less, unless after he's taken one quick sniff of all the bags and realizes that mom stopped by PETCO. If I've been anywhere near the catnip aisle he's all over me like whip cream on a Starbucks' mocha. Wrapping presents with two cats hanging around is about as much fun as seeing how gracefully people can slip and slide on an ice-laden sidewalk. With the presents sorted I begin my wrapping. Miss Sara hops into every box because she loves tight fitting spaces, while Kona scampers off across the floor off with the curling ribbon I need. I've given them their own small roll of ribbon to toss around but that gets them to fighting over the other's colorful, amazing catch. After I line the gift boxes with tissue paper, they lose interest in the ribbon and scurry back to the table. Again, I've caught their interest. They soon learned that with one quick wisp of a sharp claw it can be torn to shreds faster than any paper shredder, and by the time they're through it's nothing more than confetti. Sorry to say too, I've learned the hard way the last thing I want to do is get remotely close to them once they've declared ownership to the tissue. They're quick to warn me, "Don't touch! It's ours!" I've concluded that wrapping presents shouldn't be done with two cats nearby! It should be done at wrapping stations in malls by sweet, little old ladies from local auxiliaries. There's no fuss, no muss and they do a pretty good job. But if I did that, I wouldn't have the fun of watching my two feline friends enjoying the holidays in their own way. -- Sally Kemple ___________________________________________ Sally lives in Portland, Oregon with her cats, dog and sweetheart of a hubby, Dennis. She's been published in Grit, Townsend Foundation and local newspapers. ___________________________________________ .\/. * + + >><><< '/\' * /`x.`\ + * /;<> @ \ , \| * /& `';;;_\ \'-,_/| |./ * O (_)| '-./ )-,_ * \ o .--. ! / ( )`-._\ + .;`-'(_) '-`'. ,;v /_`;;, x <>* \ ,,;' + /(_) `';;;;,,_,;\` + | !/ ^ & `(_) | __ _ \^ @/`\ . !/`\ O/ + / `\/ `\ .'`-' + '--' _ '-`'. |/`\ \| | /;;<> !_ o (_) + . \ * \ \_| / `';;(_) . _x ; \ (() / `\_ | _' & `';;;, O ^ (_),;\-'@_<"/ _, * | ^ y,-._ |(_) / ' * `'';;;;'` |\_.\` \ ( ) _=_/,-;_)\ /`\<> /``\ @ /`\ ! / \ _`) \_) . ' .-' --..' / .'`-' x '--' . '--'_. '-`'. \,(__/ .' .___.' /;;;,, O . _ + (_) . * \ \' \ ' . / '-. / /! `';;;;,, (_) ^ & <>,;;\ \-'\ ' _| \/\ ' | @ (_)''';;;;,, o ,,;;;''` x| \.-\ {_} |_/ . | * o ' _ `';;;'` O (_) | .\_.\ ' \ ,_./ \__ | _ + . ^ (_) .o _' . + | \ \ ' `. \__\___) \ (_) __ & __. (_) __ ! @ / \- \ . \____) '._.'` `'._.;;;;;;._.'` `'._.' . \ ' jgs. ' . ' . ' ' . . . ' ' >A FORGOTTEN DOG'S CHRISTMAS Author unknown Twas the nite before Christmas when all thru the house Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that St. Nick soon would be there. The children all nestled all snug in their beds With no thought of the dog filling their head. And mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap Knew the dog was cold, but didn't care about that. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash Figuring the dog was free of his chain and into the trash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear But Santa Clause with eyes full of tears. He unchained the dog once so lively and quick Last year's Christmas present now painfully sick. More rapid than eagles he called the dog's name and the dog ran to him despite all his pain. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen On Comet on Cupid on Donner and Blitzen. To the top of the porch to the top of the wall Let's find this dog a home where he will be loved by all. I knew in an instant there would be no gifts this year For Santa had made one thing quite clear. The gift of a dog is not just for the season We had gotten the dog for all the wrong reasons. In our haste to think of the kids a gift There was one important thing we missed A dog should be family, and cared for the same You don't give a gift, then put it on a chain. And I heard him explain as he rode out of site, "You weren't given a gift, you were given a life." ___________________________________________ Cute Sleeping Kitten http://youtube.com/watch?v=lmJcJX0H5NY Dogs Dancing in the Snow http://youtube.com/watch?v=qwxJ_lib5q8 =============================================================== >-->FUN Places To Net Visit for the coming New Year! Friends Together http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/poems/together.html It Takes Two http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/poems/two.html Chosen Children? http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/BibleStudy/choosehischildren.html Let's Dance http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/dance.html Day And Night http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/dayandnight.html Keep On Smiling http://www.shangralafamilyfun.com/smiling.html -<>- >From MouthPiece: TOAST RECIPES http://www.drtoast.com/recipes.html Best Things in Life http://www.jamesshuggins.com/h/mot1/best_things_in_life.htm -<>- >From LynnLynn Links: good suction http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121110.htm goldfish water ballet http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121111.htm granny air bag http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121112.htm hammered http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121117.htm handyman_1 http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121118.htm I cant dance http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121119.htm If http://www.buffalosjokes.com/121120.htm To subscribe send a blank email to lynnlynns-links-subscribe@egroups.com ==================================== But in your heart, set apart Christ as Lord. Always be pre- pared to give an answer to everyone who asks you, the reason for the hope that you have. ~~~1 Peter 3:15 >Updated FUN STUFF URLS - Oh Yeah :)Shangy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- http://www.ShangralaFamilyFun.com/urls.html FUN URLS ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -->Bigham's Computer Rescue - PC Sales && Service You can trust us to provide you with quality computer sales and repair. We've been servicing the Van Wert area since 1981 and can help you with all your computer needs. Please phone us at 419-238-5806 ************************************************************************ -->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 ************************************************************************