http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpersonalitytypequiz/
Do you really think so?
You Are An ESFJ
I found this cool link on Persainfan’s site from a while back and decided to see what songs were number 1 on the hit parade at various times of my life……
Let’s see, there was:
Dance With Me Henry – Georgia Gibbs; the day I was born (not too surprised that I haven’t heard of it before)
It’s Now Or Never – Elvis Presley; I started kindergarten 
Baby Love – The Supremes; the first time I can remember moving (we moved once before, but I was just a baby)
Windy – Association; the summer I caught that fish in Donkey’s favorite picture of me
In The Year 2525 – Zager & Evans; the summer I babysat for my cousin with 3 kids and also had first crush 
American Woman – Guess Who; my first date–which ended abruptly with a car crash 
It’s Too Late – Carole King; when I got my first driver’s license (freeeee-dom! YAY!)
The Night The Light Went Out In Georgia – Vicki Lawrence; when I left home to live with my dad
My Love – Paul McCartney & Wings; my high school graduation
Rock Your Baby – George McCrae; the summer Donkey came to visit me 
Get Down Tonight – KC & The Sunshine Band; my graduation from AIFL
Reunited – Peaches & Herb; my graduation from BC 
Another Brick In The Wall (part ll) – Pink Floyd; our wedding day
Flashdance…What a Feeling – Irene Cara; our daughter’s birthday (LOVE that song & also the movie!) 
All Night Long (All Night) – Lionel Richie; we purchased our first house 
Like a Virgin – Madonna; our son’s birthday (Madonna & Donkey are from the same hometown, you know)
On My Own – Patti Labelle and Michael McDonald; on day of my father’s death 
I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston; we lost our “surprise child” & also discovered we had termites
That’s The Way Love Goes – Janet Jackson; the day my car got totaled in a head-on 
Candle In The Wind 1997 – Elton John; on the day we moved into this house 
Doesn’t Really Matter – Janet Jackson; my first time to visit the great state of California 
Lady Marmalade – Christina Aguilera; when our daughter graduated from high school
How To Remind Me – Nickelback; the last day of my last engineering documentation contract job 
Foolish – Ashanti; the day of my brother’s death
21 Questions – 50 Cent; when our son graduated from high school
Hollaback Girl – Gwen Stefani; our daughter graduated from college (Woo-HOO! one done & one to go!)
We Belong Together – Mariah Carey; the day I started my MK biz
By the way, I am STILL looking for my cordless phone, which has been missing quite awhile now. Have you ever found yourself looking in the SAME place, over & over again for missing articles? The number of times you look in that same place seems to be directly proportional to how imperative it is that you find the missing item. Anyone out there in XangaLand have some fresh ideas about where to look for my phone?
Edit: Finally got the pic in this thing to work (thanks, Donkey! 
)
Everyone in our little corner of XangaLand is anxiously awaiting October 1st. We must however, try not to lose our perspective on other matters…..
To commemorate her 69th birthday on October 1, actress/vocalist Julie Andrews made a special appearance at Manhattan’s Radio City Music Hall for the benefit of the AARP a few years back. One of the musical numbers she performed was “My Favorite Things” from the legendary movie “Sound Of Music.”
However, the lyrics of the song were deliberately changed for the entertainment of her “blue hair” audience. Here are the lyrics she recited:
Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favorite things..
Cadillacs and cataracts, hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favorite things.
When the pipes leak,
When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad.
Hot tea and crumpets, and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heat pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favorite things.
Back pains, confused brains, and no fear of sinnin’,
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin’,
I won’t mention our short shrunken frames,
When we remember our favorite things.
Ms. Andrews received a standing ovation from the crowd that lasted over four minutes and repeated encores.
That’s not the only song around that has been revised with aging Baby Boomers in mind. I just love this newest version of “Jesus Loves Me”:
JESUS LOVES ME!
Jesus loves me, this I know,
Though my hair is white as snow.
Though my sight is growing dim,
Still He bids me trust in him.
(CHORUS)
YES, JESUS LOVES ME… YES, JESUS LOVES ME…
YES. JESUS LOVES ME FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.
Though my steps are oh, so slow,
With my hand in his I’ll go.
On through life, let come what may,
He’ll be there to lead the way.
(CHORUS)
Though I am no longer young,
I have much which He’s begun.
Let me serve Christ with a smile,
Go with others the extra mile.
(CHORUS)
When the nights are dark and long,
In my heart He puts a song.
Telling me in words so clear,
“Have no fear, for I am near.”
(CHORUS)
When my work on earth is done,
And life’s victories have been won.
He will take me home above,
Then I’ll understand his love
(CHORUS)
I love Jesus, does he know?
Have I ever told Him so?
Jesus loves to hear me say,
That I love him every day.
(CHORUS)
What about this list of some good things about being over 50?
1. Kidnappers are not very interested in you.
2. In a hostage situation you are likely to be released first.
3. No one expects you to run–anywhere.
4. People call at 9 PM and ask, ” Did I wake you?”
5. People no longer view you as a hypochondriac.
6. Thereis nothing left to learn the hard way.
7. Things you buy now won’t wear out.
8. You can eat dinner at 4 PM .
9. You enjoy hearing about other people’s operations.
10. You get into heated arguments about pension plans.
11. You no longer think of speed limits as a challenge.
12. You quit trying to hold your stomach in no matter who walks into the room.
13. You sing along with elevator music.
14. Your eyes won’t get much worse.
15. Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off.
16. Your joints are more accurate meteorologists than the national weather service.
17. Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can’t remember them either.
18. Your supply of brain cells are finally down to manageable size.
19. You can’t remember who sent you this list.
And you notice these are all in Big Print for your convenience……
Then for the ladies, there are the hot flashes……….
And, finally, something shared from a long-time friend……
Old age, I decided, is a gift.
I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body … the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don’t agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I’ve aged, I’ve become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I’ve become my own friend. I don’t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn’t need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 a.m., and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60′s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love… I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten … and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so glad to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say “no,” and mean it. I can say “yes,” and mean it.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day.
……can I have an AMEN for that last one?
Somewhere out there in XangaLand today, I saw
something about computer gender and also some other really funny stuff
about men & women, too, so I thought I would share these:
“Le ou La computer?”
A
French teacher was explaining to her class that in French, unlike
English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.
“House” is feminine — “la maison. “
“Pencil” is masculine — “le crayon.”
A student asked, “What gender is ‘computer’?”
Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into twogroups
– male and female — and asked them to decide for themselves whether
“computer” should be a masculine or a feminine noun. Each group was
asked to give four reasons for their recommendation.
The men’s group decided that “computer” should definitely be of the feminine gender (“la computer”), because:
1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic;
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else;
3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible later retrieval; and
4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.
The women’s group, however, concluded that computers should be masculine (“le computer”), because:
1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on;
2. They have a lot of data but still can’t think for themselves;
3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE the problem; and
4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer, you could have gotten a better model.
The women won.
Then there is this little cutie:
A
couple goes on vacation to a fishing resort in northern
Minnesota. The husband likes to fish at the crack of dawn. The
wife likes to read.
One morning the husband returns after several
hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar
with the lake, the wife decides to take the boat out. She motors
out a short distance, anchors, and continues
to read her book.
Along
comes a game warden in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman
and says, “Good morning Ma’am. What are you doing?”
“Reading a book,” she replies (thinking, “isn’t that obvious?”).
“You’re in a restricted fishing area,” he informs her.
“I’m sorry officer, but I’m not fishing, I’m reading.”
“Yes,
but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any
moment. I’ll have to take you in and write you up.”
“If you do that, I’ll have to charge you with sexual assault,” says the woman.
“But I haven’t even touched you,” says the game warden.
“That’s true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment.”
“Have a nice day ma’am”, and he left.
MORAL: Never argue with a woman who reads. It’s likely she can also think.
And finally, this one:
He said . . . I don’t now why you wear a bra – you’ve got nothing to put in it.
She said . . . You wear pants don’t you?
He said . . . Why don’t women blink during foreplay?
She said . . . They don’t have time
He said . . .. What do men and sperm have in common?
She said . . ….They both have a one-in-a-million chance of becoming a human being.
He said . . How does a man show that he is planning for the future?
She said . . . He buys two cases of beer.
He said . . . What is the difference between men and government bonds?
She said . . . The bonds mature.
He said . . . Why are blonde jokes so short?
She said . . So men can remember them.
He said . . . How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?
She said . . . We don’t know; it has not ever happened.
He said . . . Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive, caring and good-looking?
She said . . . They already have boyfriends.
He said . . . What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night?
She said . . . A widow.
He said .. . . What is the one thing that all men at singles bars have in common?
She said . . . They’re married.
Man says to God: “God, why did you make woman so beautiful?”
God says: “So you would love her.”
“But God,” the man says, “why did you make her so dumb?”
God says: “So she would love you.”
….Amen
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
—-Marianne Williamson
I have found that writing things down sometimes makes them “stick with me” better, so I thought I would post this little quote here. This knowledge about the manner in which I learn best came to me many, many years ago. I volunteered to copy over my chemistry class notes for a friend who had been ill and missed a great deal of the lecture so she could prepare for the upcoming test while she was still recovering and not get any further behind in the class. I made the highest score ever in that class on that test and I didn’t miss a thing in the sections of the test from the notes that I had copied over…….
Are there any on this list that “speak to you” in any way?
I’ve learned….
That life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes.
I’ve learned….
That we should be glad God doesn’t give us everything we ask for.
I’ve learned….
That money doesn’t buy class.
I’ve learned….
That it’s those small daily happenings that make life so spectacular.
I’ve learned…
That under everyone’s hard shell is someone who wants to be appreciated and loved.
I’ve learned….
That the Lord didn’t do it all in one day. What makes me think I can?
I’ve learned….
That to ignore the facts does not change the facts.
I’ve learned….
That when you plan to get even with someone, you are only letting that person continue to hurt you.
I’ve learned….
That love, not time, heals all wounds.
I’ve learned…
That the easiest way for me to grow as a person is to surround myself with people smarter than I am.
I’ve learned….
That everyone you meet deserves to be greeted with a smile.
I’ve learned….
That no one is perfect until you fall in love with them.
I’ve learned….
That life is tough, but I’m tougher.
I’ve learned…
That opportunities are never lost; someone will take the ones you miss.
I’ve learned….
That when you harbor bitterness, happiness will dock elsewhere.
I’ve learned…
That I wish I could have told those I cared about that I love them one more time before they passed away.
I’ve learned….
That one should keep his words both soft and tender, because tomorrow he may have to eat them.
I’ve learned….
That a smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks.
I’ve learned….
That I can’t choose how I feel, but I can choose what I do about it.
I’ve learned….
That everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.
I’ve learned …
That it is best to give advice in only two circumstances; when it is requested and when it is a life threatening situation.
I’ve learned….
That the less time I have to work with, the more things I get done.
For me, it’s that last one. Nearly every huge chunk of time I have ever had to try and get stuff checked off that “to do” list has gotten eaten up before I could make really good use of it. Apparently that statement regarding nature abhoring a vacuum has nothing whatsoever to with cleaning house–which just happens to be one of those items on my current “to do” list…..
Is this one silly enough?
Zebediah was in the fertilized egg business. He had several hundred young layers, called pullets, and eight or ten roosters, whose job was to fertilize the eggs.
Zeb kept records, and any rooster that didn’t perform well went into the soup pot and was replaced.
That took an awful lot of Zeb’s time; so, Zeb got a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so that Zeb could tell, from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells.
Zeb’s favorite rooster was old Brewster. A very fine specimen he was, too but on this particular morning, Zeb noticed that Brewster’s bell had not rung at all!! Zeb went to investigate.
The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells a-ringing! The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
BUT, to Zeb’s amazement, Brewster had his bell in his beak, so it couldn’t ring. He’d sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one.
Zeb was so proud of Brewster that he entered him in the county fair. Brewster was an overnight sensation.
The judges not only awarded him the No Bell Piece Prize but also the Pulletsurprise……
YAY! My computer is functional again after a brief bout with “wind-blows-itis” and possibly some after effects of our storm. It is so wonderful having my personal on-site trouble technician (aka Donkey) when things get wonky…..
Yesterday was a really busy day, starting with a workshop (thankfully, in town this week) and then a Star Luncheon where I was one of a number of honorees. My facial appointment for afterwards got cancelled, so that simplified things a bit. I was really dreading having to go over to Mom-in-law’s house (she is one really kewl lady and I love her dearly, but the air quality in her home after a two-pack-a-day habit for several decades is pretty much toxic for me) that evening after dinner as we had promised. I found myself praying that I could get out of it somehow and the Good Lord must have decided that would be a good thing, because the plan did change! Instead we got to go to daughter’s house and bring the folks with us. I also got a break from our usual 500 Rummy card game since there were too many people to play that, too. 500 is not a bad game and I have enjoyed it for many years, but when ever we played, my family always played Hearts or Pinochle and I kinda miss those games…..
Pretty much a usual day today with the usual sort of stuff going on. The thunderstorm was pretty cool, but that might be a bit tough to share with you, so you will have to settle for another gem from another one of my favorite people. This one is very special to me since I used to sing “You are my sunshine” to my children when they were very young. Oh, the hours I rocked and sang this song, I could not even begin to count………
Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.
They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in mommy’s tummy. He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.
The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee.
In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? Finally, after a long struggle, Michael’s little sister was born. But she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee.
The days inched by.
The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.
Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot.
They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. I want to sing to her, he kept saying.
Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over.
Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or not.
If he didn’t see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket.
The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, “Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed.” The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse’s face, her lips a firm line.
“He is not leaving until he sings to his sister” she stated. Then Karen towed Michael to his sister’s bedside.
He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing. In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang:
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.” Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond.
The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady. “Keep on singing, Michael,” encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.
“You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”
As Michael sang to his sister, the baby’s ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten’s purr.
“Keep on singing, sweetheart.”
“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms”.
Michael’s little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her.
“Keep on singing, Michael.” Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t take my sunshine away…”
The next day…the very next day…the little girl was well enough to go home. Woman’s Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother’s Song. The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God’s love.
NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE. LOVE IS SO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL.
Life is good. Have a Wonderful Day!
Wow–time has been just whizzing by lately. I am just now catching up on stuff like bills, housework & emails. One of my favorite email buddies passed this along to me today and I thought I would share it:
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. “I wowed ‘em,” he later told his father, Bruce. “It’s a killer. It’s the bomb. It’s the best thing I ever wrote..” It also was the last.
Brian’s parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager’s locker at Teary Valley High School . Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen’s life.. But it was only after Brian’s death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. “It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there.” Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend’s house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian’s essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. “I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,” Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son’s vision of life after death. “I’m happy for Brian. I know he’s in heaven. I know I’ll see him.”
Brian’s Essay: The Room…
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Girls I have liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I have betrayed.” The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed at.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve yelled at my brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger”, “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked “TV Shows I have watched”, I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked “Lustful Thoughts,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it.. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. “No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.” I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”-Phil. 4:13
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
….You don’t have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.
There is so much we can learn from our young ones with their different perspectives on life, isn’t there? I was talking to a young mom in the grocery store earlier today who was telling me about several of these kids in class who told their teacher that they were going to have a baby. When the teacher went to congratulate the parents, each of the parents said the child was mistaken and they were NOT expecting. Apparently, within a matter of weeks, several of those same parents discovered that they actually WERE expecting……
OK! So does this look like a butt?
Well, I didn’t think so, butt what do I know?
So what about this? Go check out this link —> DancingHippo from DuckStudios
Perhaps
I am a getting a bit silly here? I guess I needed a bit of levity after
returning from a one-day-wonder trip at a workshop in Houston this evening and then
planning to attend services for a long-time friend and fellow brother
in Christ tomorrow……
Recent Comments