Unusual Answered Prayer

>> Friday, February 24, 2012

The pastor asked if anyone in the congregation would like to express praise for answered prayers.  

Suzie Smith stood and walked to the podium.  

She said, "I have a praise. Two months ago, my husband, Tom, had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was completely crushed. The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn't know if they could help him."  

You could hear a muffled gasp from the men in the congregation as they imagined the pain that poor Tom must have experienced.  

"Tom was unable to hold me or the children," she went on, "and every move caused him terrible pain."  

"We prayed as the doctors performed a delicate operation, and it turned out they were able to piece together the crushed remnants of Tom's scrotum, and wrap wire around it to hold it in place."  

Again, the men in the congregation cringed and squirmed uncomfortably as they imagined the horrible surgery performed on Tom.  

"Now," she announced in a quivering voice, "thank the Lord, Tom is out of the hospital and the doctors say that with time, his scrotum should recover completely."  

All the men sighed with unified relief.  

The pastor rose and tentatively asked if anyone else had something to say.  

A man stood up and walked slowly to the podium. 

He said, "I'm Tom Smith."  

The entire congregation held its breath.  

"I just want to tell my wife the word is - STERNUM."  

(Author Unknown)


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Life Lesson from the Man Next Door

>> Thursday, February 23, 2012

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"


"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important. Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away. The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories … every picture, every piece of furniture. Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box?" Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read. Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:

"Jack, thanks for your time! - Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most was ... my time."

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with my son," he said. “And by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!"

(Author Unknown)

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Grey-Haired Brigade

>> Monday, February 20, 2012

They like to refer to us as senior citizens, old fogies, geezers, and in some cases dinosaurs.  Some of us are "Baby Boomers" getting ready to retire.  Others have been retired for some time.  We walk a little slower these days and our eyes and hearing are not what they once were.  We have worked hard, raised our children, worshiped our God and grown old together.  

Yes, we are the ones some refer to as being over the hill, and that is probably true.  But before writing us off completely, there are a few things that need to be taken into consideration.  

In school we studied English, history, math, and science which enabled us to lead America into the technological age.  Most of us remember what outhouses were, many of us with firsthand experience.  

We remember the days of telephone party lines, 25-cent gasoline, and milk and ice being delivered to our homes.  For those of you who don't know what an icebox is, today they are electric and referred to as refrigerators.  A few even remember when cars were started with a crank.  Yes, we lived those days.  

We are probably considered old fashioned and out-dated by many.  But there are a few things you need to remember before completely writing us off.  We won World War II, fought in Korea and Viet Nam.  

We can quote The Pledge of Allegiance, and know where to place our hand while doing so.  We wore the uniform of our country with pride and lost many friends on the battlefield.  We didn't fight for the Socialist States of America; we fought for the "Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave."  We wore different uniforms but carried the same flag.  We know the words to the Star Spangled Banner, America, and America the Beautiful by heart and you may even see some tears running down our cheeks as we sing.  We have lived what many of you have only read about in history books and we feel no obligation to apologize to anyone for America.  

Yes, we are old and slow these days, but rest assured we have at least one good fight left in us.  We have loved this country, fought for it, and died for it, and now we are going to save it.  It is our country and nobody is going to take it away from us.  We took oaths to defend America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that is an oath we plan to keep.  There are those who want to destroy this land we love but, like our founders, there is no way we are going to remain silent.  

You have tasted socialism and seen evil face to face, and have found you don't like it after all.  You make a lot of noise, but most are all too interested in their careers or "Climbing the Social Ladder" to be involved in such mundane things as patriotism and voting.  

With all the education we gave you, you didn't have sense enough to see through the lies and instead drank the 'Kool-Aid.'  Now you're paying the price and complaining about it.  No jobs, lost mortgages, higher taxes, and less freedom.  We entrusted you with the Torch of Liberty and you traded it for a paycheck and a fancy house.  

Well, don't worry youngsters; the Grey-Haired Brigade is here, and in 2012 we are going to take back our nation.  We may drive a little slower than you would like but we get where we're going, and in 2012 we're going to the polls by the millions.  This land belongs to "We the People" and "We the People" plan to reclaim our land and our freedom.  

We hope this time you will do a better job of preserving it and passing it along to our grandchildren.  So the next time you have the chance to say the Pledge of Allegiance, stand up, put your hand over your heart, honor our country, and thank God for the old geezers of the "Grey-Haired Brigade."  

(Author Anonymous, Grey-Haired Brigade Member)


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Troubling Encounters

>> Friday, February 17, 2012

The following quotes were taken from insurance and accident forms.  

Coming home, I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don’t have.  

As I approached the intersection, a stop sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before. I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident.  

My car was legally parked as it backed into the other vehicle.  

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intentions.  

An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my vehicle, and vanished.  

I told the police that I was not injured, but removing my hat, I found I had a skull fracture.  

A truck backed through y windshield into my wife’s face.  

A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.  

The guy was all over the road; I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him.  

I saw the slow-moving, sad-faced old gentleman as he bounced off the hood of my car.  

I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law, and headed over the embankment.  

The indirect cause of this accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.  

The telephone pole was approaching fast. I attempted to swerve out of its path when it struck my front end.  

I had been driving for forty years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.  

I was on my way to the doctor with rear-end trouble when my universal joint gave way, causing me to have an accident.  

(Taken from Insights – by Charles R. Swindoll)


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