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Tell Mommy I love Her.
John had been on the road visiting clients for more than three weeks. He couldn’t wait to get back to Ohio to see his wife and children. It was comoig up on Mother’s Day, and he usually tried to make it "Back home",but this year he was just too tired. He was in a small town just outside of Little Rock when he drove by a flower shop. He said to himself, "I know what I do, I’ll send Mom some roses."
He went into the small shop and saw a young man talking to the clerk. "How many roses can I get for Six dollars, Ma’am?" the boy asked.
The clerk looked at John and was just shaking he head. Something inside of John was touched by the boy’s voice. He wanted to get those roses so bad. John had been blessed in his business, and he looked at the clerk and silently mouthged that he would pay for the boy’sroses.
The clerk looked at the young man and said "Okay, I will give you a dozen red roses for your six dollars.
John followed the young boy down the street until he came to huge gate he went inside, this was a grave yard, and John watched the boym, he heard the young gboy speaking, "Mommy, oh Mommie, why didn’t I tell you how much I love you. Why didn’t I tell you one more time? Jesus, please find my Mommy. Tell my Mommy I love her."
THE PUBLIC
Cicero's (106 - 43 BC) was one of the most powerfully, persuasive people of his day. He had this to say about the public in 1st Century BC, Rome.
The poor: work and work,
The rich: exploit the poor,
The soldier: protects both,
The taxpayer: pays for all three,
The wanderer: rests for all four,
The drunk: drinks for all five,
The banker: robs all six,
The lawyer: misleads all seven,
The doctor: kills all eight,
The undertaker: buries all nine,
AND FINALLY
The Politician: lives happily on the account of all ten.
"Some Christians spend the first six days of each week sowing their wild oats, then they go to church on Sunday and pray for a crop failure." There is a myth that exists that says we can live comfortably in our world of faith and then flirt with the world. God calls us to another standard.
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg--or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul’s ally forged in the refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can’t tell a vet just by looking.
What is a vet?
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn’t run out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She--or he--is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another--or didn’t come back at all.
He is the Quantico drill instructor that has never seen combat--but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other’s backs.
He is the parade-riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor die unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean’s sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket--palsied now and aggravatingly slow--who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being, a person who offered some of his life’s most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each...
God’s design is for a man and woman to enter into a permanent, intimate relationship with one another. A relationship like Eddie and Mary enjoy. Let me read you a letter that Eddie wrote to Ann Landers:
Dear Ann Landers:
On Aug. 14, 1945, the war ended in the South Pacific. That was the day I met the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world-my wife. There was a celebration downtown, and I was kissing whoever came along. Then, I kissed Mary. That kiss was special, and I immediately put her name and phone number on a handy piece of paper-a policeman’s traffic ticket, which I put in my wallet.
One day, as I lounged in my barracks, I opened my wallet, and out fell that ticket with Mary’s name on it. I wrote her a letter and the rest is history.
We have been married for 50 years and have three daughters and six grandchildren. Now, my Mary, my beautiful rose, is wilting. She has Alzheimer’s disease, and I am helpless to do anything about it. There are no letters to write, no courtship to win her love, only wonderful memories. I hold her hand, serve her breakfast in bed, hug her and try to hold on. How long this rose will continue to bloom only God knows.
Seeing this disease rob me of this wonderful person is hard, but I am grateful that I have always told Mary how much I loved her. I will never abandon her. She will be with me always until "death do us part."
The average person has more than two hundred negative thoughts a day-worries, jealousies, insecurities, cravings for forbidden things, etc. Depressed people have as many as six hundred. You can’t eliminate all the troublesome things that go through your mind, but you can certainly reduce the number of negative thoughts.
Dr. Elinore Kinarthy in Homemade, Sept., 1988
". . . before this month began to prepare our ground against seed-time. In the midst of April we began to set, the weather being then seasonable, which much encouraged us, giving us good hopes of after plenty: the setting season is good till the latter end of May. But it pleased God for our further chastisement, to send a great drought, insomuch, as in six weeks after the latter setting there scarce fell any rain, so that the stalk of that was first set began to send forth the ear before it came to half growth, and that which was later, not like to yield any at all, both blade and stalk hanging the head, and changing the color in such manner, as we judged It utterly dead: our Beans also ran not up according to their wonted manner, but stood at a stay, many being parched away, as though they had been scorched before the fire. Now were our hopes overthrown, and we discouraged, our joy being turned into mourning. To add also to this sorrowful estate in which we were, we heard of a supply [ship] that was sent unto us many months since, which having two repulses before, was a third time in company of another ship three hundred Leagues at Sea, and now in three months time heard no further of her, only the signs of a wreck were scene on the coast, which could not be judged to be any other then the same. So that at once God seemed to deprive us of all future hopes. The most courageous were now discouraged, because God which hitherto had been our only Shield and Supporter, now seemed in his anger to arm himself against us; and who can withstand the fierceness of his wrath. These, and the like considerations moved not only every good man privately to enter Into examination with his own estate between God and his conscience, and so to humiliation before him: but also more solemnly to humble our selves together before the Lord by fasting and prayer. To that end a day was appointed by public authority, and set a-part from all other employments, hoping that the same God which had stirred us Up hereunto, would be moved hereby in mercy to look down upon Us, and grant the request of our dejected souls, if our continuance there might any way stand with his glory and our good. But oh the mercy of our God! Who was as ready to hear as we to ask: For though in the morning when we assembled together, the heavens were as clear and the drought as like to continue as ever it was: yet (our exercise [in prayer] continuing some eight or nine hours) before our departure the weather was over-cast, the clouds gathered together on all sides, and on the next morning distilled such soft, sweet, and moderate showers of rain, continuing some fourteen days, and mixed with such seasonable weather, as it was hard to say whether our withered Corn or drooping affections were most quickened or revived. Such was the bounty and goodness of our God. Of this the Indians by means of Hobomok took notice: who being then in the Town, and this exercise in the midst of the week, said, it was but three days since Sunday, and therefore demanded of a boy what was the reason thereof? Which when he [Hobomok] knew and saw what effects followed thereupon, he and all of them [the Indians with him] admired the goodness of our God towards us, that wrought so great a change in so short a time, strewing the difference between their conjuration, and our invocation on the name of God for rain; theirs being mixed with such storms and tempests, as sometimes in stead of doing them good, it layeth the Corn flat on the ground, to their prejudice: but ours in so gentle and seasonable a manner, as they never observed the like. At the same time Captain Standish being formerly employed by the Governor to buy provisions for the refreshing of the Colony, returned with the same, accompanied with one Mr. David Tomson. . . Now also heard we of the third repulse that our supply [ship] had, of their safe though dangerous return into England, and of their preparation to come to us. So that having these many signs of Gods favor and acceptation, we thought it would be great ingratitude, if secretly we should smother up the same, or content our selves with private thanksgiving for that which by private prayer could not be obtained. And therefore another solemn day was set a-part and appointed for that end, wherein we returned glory, honor, and praise, with all thankfulness to our God, which dealt so graciously with us, whose name for these and all other his mercies towards his Church and chosen ones, by them be blessed and praised now and evermore, Amen."
(Primary Source document, "Good Newes from New England" (1624) Written by Mayflower passenger Edward Winslow, Good Newes from New England was published in London in 1624.)
PLEASURE COMES FROM PAIN
The world's best cyclist, Lance Armstrong, says this about pain:
I become a happier man each time I suffer.
Suffering is as essential to a good life, and as inextricable, as bliss. The old saying that you should live each day as if it’s your last is a nice sentiment, but it doesn’t work. Take it from me. I tried it once, and here’s what I learned: If I pursued only happiness, and lived just for the moment, I’d be a no-account with a perpetual three-day growth on my chin. Cancer taught me that.
Before cancer, whatever I imagined happiness to be, pretty soon I wore it out, took it for granted, or threw it away. A portfolio, a Porsche, a coffee machine--these things were important to me. So was my hair. Then I lost them, including the hair. When I was 25, I was diagnosed with advanced testicular cancer, which had metastasized into my lungs and brain. I sold the car, gave up my career as a world-class cyclist, lost a good deal of money, and barely hung on to my life.
When I went into remission, I thought happiness would mean being self-indulgent. Not knowing how much time I had left, I did not intend to ever suffer again. I had suffered months of fear, chemotherapy so strong it left burn marks under my skin, and surgery to remove two tumors. Happiness to me then was waking up.
I ate Mexican food, played golf, and lay on the couch. The pursuit of happiness meant going to my favorite restaurant and pursuing a plate of enchiladas with tomatillo sauce.
But one day my wife, Kristin, put down her fork and said, "You need to decide something: Are you going to be a golf-playing, beer-drinking, Mexican-food-eating slob for the rest of your life? If you are, I’ll still love you. But I need to know, because if so, I’ll go get a job. I’m not going to sit at home while you play golf."
I stared at her.
"I’m so bored," she said.
Suddenly, I understood that I was bored, too. The idleness was forced; I was purposeless, with nothing to pursue. That conversation changed everything. I realized that responsibility, the routines and habits of shaving in the morning with a purpose, a job to do, a wife to love, and a child to raise--these were the things that tied my days together and gave them a pattern deserving of the term living.
Within days I was back on my bicycle. For the first time in my life, I rode with real strength and stamina and purpose. Without cancer, I never would have won a single Tour de France. Cancer taught me a plan for more purposeful living, and that in turn taught me how to train and to win more purposefully. It taught me that pain has a reason, and that sometimes the experience of losing things--whether health or a car or an old sense of self--has its own value in the scheme of life. Pain and loss are great enhancers.
People ask me why I ride my bike for six hours a day; what is the pleasure? The answer is that I don’t do it for the pleasure. I do it fo...
Paul Fritz
Some years ago, Dr. Karl Menninger, noted doctor and psychologist, was seeking the cause of many of his patients’ ills. One day he called in his clinical staff and proceeded to unfold a plan for developing, in his clinic, an atmosphere of creative love. All patients were to be given large quantities of love; no unloving attitudes were to be displayed in the presence of the patients, and all nurses and doctors were to go about their work in and out of the various rooms with a loving attitude. At the end of six months, the time spent by patients in the institution was cut in half.
Source Unknown.
Imagine you’re a financial counselor. Today you have two appointments, first with an elderly woman and then a middle-aged man.
The woman’s husband died six years ago. She says, “I have no more money. The cupboards are bare. These two dollars are all I have to live on, yet I feel as if God wants me to put them in the offering. What do you think?”
What would you tell her?
Likely you’d say, “That’s very generous of you, but God gave you common sense. He knows your heart – that you want to give. But he intends you to take care of yourself. I’m sure God would have you keep those two dollars and buy food for tomorrow. You can’t expect him just to send down food from heaven, can you? God wants us to be sensible.”
Your next appointment is with a successful, hardworking, middle-aged farmer whose crop production has been excellent. He tells you, “I’m planning to tear down my old barns to build bigger ones so I can store up more crops and goods and have plenty saved up for the future. Then I can take it easy, retire early, and do some traveling and golfing. What do you think?”
How would you answer?
Perhaps like this: “Sounds good to me! You’ve worked hard. God has blessed you with good crops. It’s your business, your crops, your money. If you can save enough to take care of yourself the rest of your life, by all means go for it. I hope one day I’ll be in a position to do the same!”
Wouldn’t such advice to this poor widow and rich man appear reasonable? What would God have to say about it?
Randy Alcorn, The Law of Rewards (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House Pub. Inc., 1989), 1-2.
