If you can’t find two minutes can you spare just one?
9/30–Can You Spare A Minute?
–9/30–I miss and think of my dad every day, that is some thing that won’t ever go away. Growing up my dad was always there for us. He was a hard worker and did whatever he could do to support his family financially.
As we grew older my mom and dad started to grow apart and separated I was around 18 at the time. I think I was around 21 at the time when my dad had left to Mexico because his mother had passed away.
He left and didn’t come back until June of this year. 8 whole years had passed not a word from him or not being able to see him. A lot has happen in my life, I got married and had 2 kids. He wasn’t there. With all my heart I Forgive him.
With his return back I soon found out he had colon cancer and only had 1 month to lived. I didn’t want to waste my time on negative feelings.
Everyday I spent I told him I loved him and just to be able to hug and kiss him one last time is all that I could ever ask for. I forgive you Dad.
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Tell Jesus about your problems, but also tell your problems about Jesus–
It has always been rough when meeting up with the “bully”. Satan is the bully of all bullies.
As the old American Express commercial used to say “Don’t Leave home without it”…..meaning American Express. I say, instead, don’t leave home without Him, Jesus!
Satan is not afraid of you, but he backs up and trembles at the name of Jesus. Remind the bully, and your problems, that you know Jesus, and that He checks in on you very often. He would not take kindly to anyone roughing you up.
Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord! I have read and heard about bullying being a major problem at schools. That is not the only place where it is happening. So, let Jesus give you a hand with the bully.
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–9/29–If you were to hand in a petition to the government on a very important issue and there is only one signature on a petition, do you think that would really give credence how important the issue is?
Usually a petition has thousands of signatures, so too we need to approach God repeatedly with specific prayers.
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The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.
Story:
There’s a Spanish story of a father and son who had become estranged. The son ran away, and the father set off to find him. He searched for months to no avail. Finally, in a last desperate effort to find him, the father put an ad in a Madrid newspaper. The ad read: Dear Paco, meet me in front of this newspaper office at noon on Saturday. All is forgiven. I love you. Your Father. On Saturday 10 Pacos showed up, looking for forgiveness and love from their fathers.
Bits & Pieces, October 15, 1992, pp. 1
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For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
Humor:
9/29–Two regulars are sitting at a bar when one of them casually points to a couple of drunks across from them. “That’s us in ten years,” he says. His friend takes a sip from his beer, sets it down on the bar, turns to his friend, and slurs, “That’s a mirror
A brick slammed into a businessman’s car door. He slammed on the brakes to check what happened.
The angry man jumped out of his car and grabbed the closest boy and yelled, “What was that? What have you done to my car? Why did you do that?”
The boy was very scared but extremely polite. and apologized. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t know what else to do,” he said. “I had to throw bricks because no one else would stop to ask for my help.” With tears rolling down his cheeks. He pointed to the parked cars and said “this is my brother, he rolled forward and fell from the wheelchair, and he is seriously injured. I cannot lift him.”
The crying boy asked the man, “Could you help me get him back in his wheelchair? He is injured and too heavy for me.” He quickly lifted the other boy from the place and put him back in the wheelchair. He also helped the boy with his bruises and cuts.
When he thought everything would be fine, he went back to his car.
Thank you, sir, and God bless you,” said the grateful boy. The young man was too shocked for any word. When he got out of the car, he looked at the bulging door of his car. The damage was very noticeable, but he didn’t bother to repair it.
He held the money to remind him of the message; “Don’t go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention.”
Moral
Life whispers in our souls and talks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don’t listen to it, he throws a brick at us. It is our choice to hear the whisper or wait for the brick.
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The amount of sleep required hy the average person is about five minutes more.
WILSON M1SNER
Story:
9/28–Somewhere along the line, most of you have probably seen one of those ingenious stone tumbling machines at work. I hope you have — they’re incredible.
Pebbles of all sizes and shapes are placed inside a simple container; next you turn on a switch and the container begins rocking back and forth in a slow circular motion, forcing the stones to be shuffled one against another over and over and over again.
There is a soft monotonous chatter going on as this happens; the stones appear to abrade and jostle each other with easy abandon.
This intimate dance of stones continues all day, all night, all week, all month, all year. That’s how long it takes for the abrading, the rubbing, the tumbling to do its magic.
If you were to stand urgently by the machine for a weekend and wait for a quick result you would be deeply disappointed: one weekend is a mere blink in the polishing process. This is a long, long trip the stones are taking; it requires your most profound patience and respect. And if you are able to endure the passage of time without wincing, if you are able to listen to the low, ceaseless murmur of dancing pebbles, if you are able to relax and let the gleaming unfold in its own slow inexorable way, in the end you find yourself the recipient of an amazing gift.
And I mean amazing. After endless months of non-stop, shoulder-to-shoulder roughhousing and cavorting, you approach the machine, turn off the motor, place a few stones in your hand.
And what have you got? Open the fingers. There they are.
Gems. With rough edges, barbs, and dullness gone forever, here is what remains: essence of Stone. Deeply burnished, glistening like fire, impossibly flawless stones are now warming the skin of your palm. You can’t bear to put them down: they are too sleek and beautiful.
And you stand there stunned, because no matter how much beauty you’ve seen before, you simply can’t get over this one single miracle. Before they were simply ordinary stones; now they are priceless.
So the next time you tumble against a cloudy day, an edgy friend, a staggering debt, a hot dry patch of insult, or a wild burst of illness, remember the stones.
Tell yourself: I will surrender to this tumbling and polishing and remember who controls the switch.
Because I am being polished. I am being shaved of self. I am being reduced to essence. I am being made a pure stone in the hand of God.
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And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.
If you can’t find two minutes, can you spare just one?
9/28–Can You Spare A Minute?
–9/28
One afternoon, a fox was walking through the forest and spotted a bunch of grapes hanging from a lofty branch. “Just the thing to quench my thirst,” he thought. Taking a couple of steps back, the fox jumped and just missed the hanging grapes. The fox tried again but still failed to reach them. Finally, giving up, the fox turned his nose up and said, “They’re probably sour anyway,” and walked away.
Moral of the story: It’s easy to despise what you can’t have.
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Somewhere along the line, most of you have probably seen one of those ingenious stone tumbling machines at work. I hope you have — they’re incredible.
Pebbles of all sizes and shapes are placed inside a simple container; next you turn on a switch and the container begins rocking back and forth in a slow circular motion, forcing the stones to be shuffled one against another over and over and over again.
There is a soft monotonous chatter going on as this happens; the stones appear to abrade and jostle each other with easy abandon.
This intimate dance of stones continues all day, all night, all week, all month, all year. That’s how long it takes for the abrading, the rubbing, the tumbling to do its magic.
If you were to stand urgently by the machine for a weekend and wait for a quick result you would be deeply disappointed: one weekend is a mere blink in the polishing process. This is a long, long trip the stones are taking; it requires your most profound patience and respect. And if you are able to endure the passage of time without wincing, if you are able to listen to the low, ceaseless murmur of dancing pebbles, if you are able to relax and let the gleaming unfold in its own slow inexorable way, in the end you find yourself the recipient of an amazing gift.
And I mean amazing. After endless months of non-stop, shoulder-to-shoulder roughhousing and cavorting, you approach the machine, turn off the motor, place a few stones in your hand.
And what have you got? Open the fingers. There they are.
Gems. With rough edges, barbs, and dullness gone forever, here is what remains: essence of Stone. Deeply burnished, glistening like fire, impossibly flawless stones are now warming the skin of your palm. You can’t bear to put them down: they are too sleek and beautiful.
And you stand there stunned, because no matter how much beauty you’ve seen before, you simply can’t get over this one single miracle. Before they were simply ordinary stones; now they are priceless.
So the next time you tumble against a cloudy day, an edgy friend, a staggering debt, a hot dry patch of insult, or a wild burst of illness, remember the stones.
Tell yourself: I will surrender to this tumbling and polishing and remember who controls the switch.
Because I am being polished. I am being shaved of self. I am being reduced to essence. I am being made a pure stone in the hand of God.
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J D Canter E Books 