Originally posted by C130, with the comments...

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This is for the soldiers fighting in Iraq and Afhanistan. GOD BLESS AMERICA! WELCOME HOME & THANKS FOR A JOB WELL DONE!

Pass this story on and pray [for our troops...edit is mine.]

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I sat in my seat of the Boeing 767 waiting for everyone to hurry and stow their carry-ons and grab a seat so we could start what I was sure to be a long, uneventful flight home.

With the huge capacity and slow moving people taking their time to stuff luggage far too big for the overhead and never paying much attention to holding up the growing line behind them, I simply shook my head knowing that this flight was not starting out very well. I was anxious to get home to see my loved ones so I was focused on my issues and just felt like standing up and yelling for some of these clowns to get their act together.

I knew I couldn't say a word so I just thumbed thru the "Sky Mall" magazine from the seat pocket in front of me. You know it's really getting rough when you resort to the over priced, useless sky mall crap to break the monotony.

With everyone finally seated, we just sat there with the cabin door open and no one in any hurry to get us going although we were well past the scheduled take off time.

No wonder the airline industry is in trouble I told myself.

Just then, the attendant came on the intercom to inform us all that we were being delayed. The entire plane let out a collective groan.

She resumed speaking to say "We are holding the aircraft for some very special people who are on their way to the plane and the delay shouldn't be more than 5 minutes.

The word came after waiting six times as long as we were promised that I was finally going to be on my way home.

Why the hoopla over "these" folks?

I was expecting some celebrity or sport figure to be the reason for the hold up .. Just get their butts in a seat and let's hit the gas I thought.

The attendant came back on the speaker to announce in a loud and excited voice that we were being joined by several U.S. Marines returning home from Iraq !!!

Just as they walked on board, the entire plane erupted into applause. The men were a bit taken by surprise by the 340 people cheering for them as they searched for their seats.

They were having their hands shook and touched by almost everyone who was within an arm's distance of them as they passed down the aisle. One elderly woman kissed the hand of one of the Marines as he passed by her.

The applause, whistles and cheering didn't stop for a long time.

When we were finally airborne, I was not the only civilian checking his conscience as to the delays in "me" getting home, finding my easy chair, a cold beverage and the remote in my hand.

These men had done for all of us and I had been complaining silently about "me" and "my" issues I took for granted the everyday freedoms I enjoy and the conveniences of the American way of life.

I took for granted that others had paid the price for my ability to moan and complain about a few minutes delay to "me" while those Heroes were going home to their loved ones.

I attempted to get my selfish outlook back in order and minutes before we landed, I suggested to the attendant that she announce over the speaker a request for everyone to remain in their seats until our heroes were allowed
to gather their things and be first off the plane.

The cheers and applause continued until the last Marine stepped off and we all rose to go about our too often taken for granted everyday freedoms.

I felt proud of them.

I felt it an honor and a privilege to be among the first to welcome them home and say "Thank You for a job well done."

I vowed that I will never forget that flight nor the lesson learned.

I can't say it enough, THANK YOU to those Veterans and active servicemen and women who may read this and a prayer for those who cannot because they are no longer with us.

Originally posted by AlphaDog:

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Touching life story.....

A young man was getting ready to graduate college. For many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted.

As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had purchased the car. Finally, on the morning of his graduation his father called him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautiful wrapped gift box.

Curious, but somewhat disappointed the young man opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible. Angrily, he raised his voice at his father and said...

"With all your money you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the holy book.

Many years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a beautiful home and wonderful family, but realized his father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go to him. He had not seen him since that graduation day.

Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He needed to come home immediately and take care things. When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and regret filled his heart.

He began to search his father's important papers and saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago. With tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages.

As he read those words, a car key dropped from an envelope taped behind the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words...PAID IN FULL.

How many times do we miss God's blessings because they are not packaged as we expected?

Link and comments originally posted by PreacherMedic:

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My battle buddy sent the following link in an email. The link opens into a page full of other links: some are humerous, some are musical, some patriotic, and some for veterans. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did! Just keep clicking the links and you will find the ones I am referring to.

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Click Here for Site

Posted by PreacherMedic in March, 2006

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It was pouring down rain the day we arrived home from Iraq on February 20, 2005. We had been dreaming about this day ever since we left. At the time it seemed so distant in the future. Transit buses carried us from the tarmac where we exited the plane to the reception area. We could both hear and see the crowd that was waiting in the rain to see and greet us!

We exited the buses and walked to the area marked for us to formate one last time before we were dismissed to our families. There was a plastic ribbon to hold the families back until the appropriate time. The band was playing "Stars and Stripes Forever." The families were all shouting "USA, USA, USA". A Major made some announcements and then the Mayor spoke a few words before we were dismissed to our families.

We were at attention and filled with so much anticipation that we were about to burst. A little boy about two years old saw his daddy in formation and yelled out as he ran to him. His daddy had to break formation to grab and hug him. They knelt together for a few minutes until his dad convinced him to go back for just a few more minutes. The rest of us tried to hide our tears as he came back to formation.

An hour and a half later I was at home. All of my family had come to eat dinner with us. My daughter was nine months pregnant and was there. After we all ate, she started crying. She was in labor. She told me that she had started hurting early that morning, but she didn't want to mess up my day! I told her "Honey, you are my day!" We all went to the hospital and early the next morning she had a beautiful blond haired baby girl. What a great coming home present!!!!

A couple of weeks ago we celebrated Sydnee's first birthday. My daughter and I were talking about how fast this past year has passed by. It certainly seemed to crawl when I was in Iraq. God has definitely been good to my family and me.

preacher

Originally Posted by PreacherMedic:

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The following was emailed to me. There is so much wisdom in it that I thought it appropriate to share:

Farmer's Advice:

* Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.

* Life ain't about how fast you run, or how high you climb, but how well you bounce.

* Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.

* A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

* Words that soak into your ears are whispered!...not yelled.

* Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.

* Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.

* Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.

* It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.

* You cannot unsay a cruel word.

* Every path has a few puddles.

* When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

* The best sermons are lived, not preached.

* Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway!!

* Don't judge folks by their relatives.

* Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

* Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.

* Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.

* The easiest way to eat crow is while it's still warm, 'cause the colder it gets, the harder it is to swaller.

* If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.

* It don't take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep.

* Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

* The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin'.

* Always drink upstream from the herd.

* Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

* Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.

* If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.

* Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.

From the Heart of Mike Daley, March, 2006:

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My Inspiration:

My Inspiration comes from:

The unconditional love of my children.

The unconditional love of my wife.

The Friends that i have that have stuck by me through all of my lifes trials and tribulations.

The brothers and sisters that i have come to know annd love within this forum, and beyond this forum.

The love, friendship, brotherhood, sistership that we find withing our lifes journeys gives meaning to our lifes.

Treasure it, value it.

One Life, Live It.

Dang, Mikey, that's fantastic !!!!!

Originally posted by PreacherMedic:

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The following story was sent to me by a friend. It is a little long, but I felt that it was worth sharing. Get your tissues ready.

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THE SANDPIPER
by Robert Peterson


She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

"That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"

"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed. My life seemed completely out of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.

"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."

"Hi, Wendy."

She giggled. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.

"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't know. You say."

"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."

"Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.

Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.

"Why?" she asked.

I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."

"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt?" she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off. A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.

"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues – a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand who taught me the gift of love.


NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less. Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.

This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses. This comes from someone's heart, and is read with many and now I share it with you... May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences! Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us? I wish for you, a sandpiper.

preacher

Yet Again, Preacher posted:

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ALL THE GOOD THINGS
By Sister Helen P. Mrosla


He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving: "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth.

I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me.

That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves--and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"

No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip--the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and I simply said, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began.

"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.

The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded, and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."

Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album."

"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet, and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

Preacher rules !!!

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This is a favorite children's song adapted to seniors! (It was sent to me via email--I'm not sure who the author is).


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)

YES, JESUS LOVES ME... YES, JESUS LOVES ME..
YES, JESUS LOVES ME FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.

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)

YES, JESUS LOVES ME... YES, JESUS LOVES ME..
YES, JESUS LOVES ME FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.

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)

YES, JESUS LOVES ME... YES, JESUS LOVES ME..
YES, JESUS LOVES ME FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.

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)

YES, JESUS LOVES ME... YES, JESUS LOVES ME..
YES, JESUS LOVES ME FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.

I love Jesus, does he know?
Have I ever told Him so?
Jesus loves to hear me say,
That I love Him every day.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: VietVetArmyReservMOM,

Bless You, Preacher for encouraging others:

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THE BLOOD

One night in a church service a young woman felt the tug of God at her heart. She responded to God's call and accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior. The young woman had a very rough past, involving alcohol, drugs, and prostitution. But, the change in her was evident. As time went on she became a faithful member of the church.

She eventually became involved in the ministry, teaching young children.
It was not very long until this faithful young woman had caught the eye and heart of the pastor's son...The relationship grew and they began to make wedding plans.

This is when the problems began.

You see, about one half of the church did not think that a woman with a past such as hers was suitable for a pastor's son. The church began to argue and fight about the matter. So they decided to have a meeting.

As the people made their arguments and tensions increased, the meeting was getting completely out of hand. The young woman became very upset about all the things being brought up about her past.

As she began to cry the pastor's son stood to speak. He could not bear the pain it was causing his wife to be. He began to speak and his statement was this:


"My fiancee's past is not what is on trial here. What you are questioning is the ability of the blood of Jesus to wash away sin. Today you have put the blood of Jesus on trial. So, does it wash away sin or not?"

The whole church began to weep as they realized that they had been slandering the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Too often, even as Christians, we bring up the past and use it as a weapon against our brothers and sisters.

Forgiveness is a very foundational part of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. If the blood of Jesus does not cleanse the other person completely then it cannot cleanse us completely. If that is the case, then we are all in a lot of trouble.

What can wash away my sins?

Nothing but the blood of Jesus! End of case!!!!

"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved."

Psalm 55:23

God bless!

Originally Posted by Preacher on April 14, 2006:

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(I'm not sure who the author is of this story, but it brings tears to my eyes everytime I hear it. Since this is Good Friday, this story might have more meaning for some of you. God bless. preacher)

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PUSHUPS FOR DONUTS


There was a certain professor of religion named Dr. Christianson, a studious man who taught at a small college in the western United States. Dr. Christianson taught a required course in Christianity at this particular institution. Every student was required to take this course regardless of his or her major.

Although Dr. Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the
Gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the
course as nothing more than required drudgery. Despite his best efforts,
most students refused to take Christianity seriously.

This year Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve. Steve was only a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going on to Seminary. Steve was popular, well liked and an imposing physical specimen. He was the starting center on the school football team and the best student in the class.

One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk
with him. "How many push-ups can you do?"

Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."

"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Dr. Christianson said. "Do you think you
could do 300?"

"I don't know," Steve replied, "I've never done 300 at a time."

"Do you think you could?" again asked the professor.

"Well, I could try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I have a class project and I need you to do
about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need
you to tell me you can do it," said Dr. Christianson.

Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it."

Dr. Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday. Let me
explain what I have in mind."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room.
When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kind of donuts, these were the big fancy kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited that it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr. Christianson's class.

Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia would you like one of these donuts?"

Cynthia said, "Yes please."

Dr. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you please do ten push-ups so that Cynthia may have a donut?"

"Sure." Steve jumped down from the desk, did ten quick push-ups, and then
returned to his desk. Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you
want a donut?"

Joe said, "Yes."

The professor asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a
donut?"

Steve did ten push-ups and Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first
aisle. Steve did ten push-ups for each person before they received a donut. Dr. Christianson continued down the second aisle until he came to Scott. Scott was on the basketball team, and in as good of physical condition as Steve. Scott was popular and never lacking female companionship. When the professor asked, "Scott would you like a donut?"

Scott's reply was, "Yes, if I can do my own push-ups."

Dr. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."

Scott said, "Then I don't want one"

The professor shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Scott can have the donut he doesn't want?"

With perfect obedience Steve started to do the push-ups.

Scott yelled, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"

Dr. Christianson said sternly, "Look, this is my class, these are my desks, and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it" And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to perspire and was starting to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to get up and down. As Dr. Christianson started down the third row, many students were beginning to get a little angry.

Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"

Jenny's answer was a firm, "No!"

Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten more push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?" Steve did ten...Jenny got a donut.

By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room. The students were
beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve also had to put forth a lot of extra effort to get these push-ups done for each donut. There was a pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face and his arms were beginning to turn red because of the physical effort being put forth.

Because Dr. Christianson could no longer bear to watch Steve's hard work go for all these uneaten donuts, he asked Robert, the most vocal unbeliever in the class, to watch Steve do each push-up to make sure he did all ten in each set.

As the professor started down the fourth row, he noticed some students from other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators that ran down the sides of the room. He did a quick count and saw that there were now thirty-four students in the room. He started to worry that Steve would not be able to make it. He went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of the row, Steve was really having a hard time. It was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Just then, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room. He was about to enter when at once all of the students yelled, "NO!! Don't come in!!" Jason didn't know what was going on.

Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Professor Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will
have to do ten push-ups for him?"

"Yes, let him come in. Give him a donut."

Dr. Christianson said, "Okay Steve, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?"

Not even knowing what was going on, Jason said, "Yes, I'll have a donut."

"Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?"

Steve did ten very slow and labored push-ups. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Dr. Christianson finished the fourth row and started on the visitors seated by the radiators. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was profusely dripping off of his face and there was no sound except his heavy breathing. By this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two students in the room were two young women, both
cheerleaders, and very well-liked. Dr. Christianson went to Linda and asked if she wanted a donut.

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

The professor quietly asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?" Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow push-ups for Linda.

The Dr. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan "Susan, do you want a
donut?"

Susan, with tears streaming down her face pleaded, "Dr.Christianson, why
can't I help him?"

Dr. Christianson, with tears of his own, explained, "No, Steve has to do it alone. I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that
everyone here has an opportunity for a donut whether they want it or not.
When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade book. Steve is the only student with a perfect grade. Everyone else has failed a test, skipped class, or offered up inferior work. Steve told me that in football practice when a player messes up, he has to do push-ups. I told Steve that none of you could come to the party unless he paid the price by doing your push-ups. He and I made a deal for your sakes.
Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?"

As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said, "And so it was, that our
Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, 'into Thy hands I commend my
spirit.' With the understanding that He had accomplished all that was
required of Him, He yielded up His life for us. And like some of those in
this room, many leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."

Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically
exhausted, but wearing a thin smile.

"Well done good and faithful servant," said the professor, adding, "Not all sermons are preached in words."

Turning to the class the professor said, "My wish is that you might
understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. God spared not His only begotten son, but gave him up for us and for the whole world, now and forever. Whether we choose to accept His gift to us, the price for our sins has been paid. Wouldn't it be foolish and wouldn't it be ungrateful just to leave it laying on the desk?"

Preacher sharing a true story:

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It took us a few weeks to get settled in when we arrived at our new home for a year. Mosul, Iraq was definitely different from anyplace any of us were ever exposed to.

As we settled in and began exploring the FOB (forward operating base) we found several Haji shops that sold trinkets, dvds, appliances (all had to be 220!)as well as postcards etc. Within a few weeks, just about everyone of us had seen the movie "The Passion of Christ". It was a bootleg dvd, as evidenced by occasional "shadows" of people on the front row in the theater getting up to put on a jacket, or hearing extraneous conversation that did not originate in the movie. We saw the movie several months before its actual release in theaters at home.

A couple of weeks later we had a special church service arranged by our 1st Sgt. We had all gathered that Sunday morning in between two rows of our living containers for our daily 1st Sgt's briefing. People were sitting in lawn chairs, on door steps and on cots. Some were standing. After the briefing the folks were given the option of dismissal if they didn't want to stay for church. No one left!

We began by singing "Amazing Grace" and then a prayer. I started speaking about the meaning of Communion and how that Jesus had instituted His supper immediately after celebrating Passover with His disciples. I told them the history of Passover and its central importance to the Jews. It represented God's (Yahweh's) salvation and deliverance of Israel from Egyptian bondage. Every year at the same time, families would gather and celebrate this great event by relating how God had delivered His people. Jesus and His disciples were keeping this feast (even though it was required by Jewish Law, Jews kept it out of love and obedience to God).

-----------
quote:

As they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, gave it
to the disciples, and said, "Take, eat; this is My body." Then He
took a cup, and after giving thanks, He gave it to them and said,
"Drink from it, all of you. For this is My blood of the covenant,
which is shed for many for the forgiveness of sins. But I tell you,
from this moment I will not drink of this fruit of the vine until
that day when I drink it new in My Father's kingdom with you."

Matthew 26:26 - 29 Holman Christian Standard Bible

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I related the events as told by John concerning Jesus' arrest, trial and crucifixion. It was at this point I began to relate to the people about the dvd "The Passion of Christ". I knew that they had all seen the movie and had been affected by it. I told them that sometimes movies do not hold true to Scripture, but in this case, it was very close. I had their rapt attention in spite of a mortar round hitting about a klick away. I told them to keep their focus on Jesus and they would be alright.

We closed with a very emotional prayer of thanksgiving, for our safety, for our families that were worried about us, for our mission to be accomplished and for our safe return home.

I had only been in the company for about 7 months and many of the people didn't know me very well, but that day their hearts had been touched by God's Word. God had opened a special door that I was able to minister to people that had been away from God for years. A special bond had formed amongst us.

For the ones that still didn't attend church, I was able to minister to them as I cut their hair! When I sensed that they were down or having problems, I could talk with them. A ten minute haircut could turn into a 45 minute cut depending on what needed discussed! I'm not sure if they really realized what was transpiring! lol.

As time wore on, we found a place to hold church services and I started a preaching series on Jonah. It was very affective since we were in Ninevah Province and the city of Ninevah wasn't very far away. When I first began studying for the series, sometime in the distant past I had written in pencil in my Bible in the book of Jonah the meaning of the name "Jonah". It means "Dove". Talking about epiphenies! Here we were in the place where Jonah had preached some 700 years BC, his name meaning "Dove", and the place was literally covered by doves! The Bible I was preaching from had been given to me as a gift when I was in Turkey 30 years before. (That is another story! I left for Turkey on 3 March 74 and I left for Iraq on 3 March 2004!) I felt this incredible sense of purpose!!

God's protective hand was upon us and He brought everyone of us home.

preacher

Originally posted by Preacher:

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Christians
By Maya Angelou


When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven."

When I say.. "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say. "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow

Originally Posted by AlphaDog my hubby, just recently, following the death of our beloved dog and companion, Snuffy.

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DOGS IN HEAVEN?

An old man and his dog were walking down this dirt road with fences on both sides, they came to a gate in the fence and looked in, it was nice grassy, woody areas, just what a 'huntin' dog and man would like, but, it had a sign saying 'no trespassing' so they walked on. They came to a beautiful gate with a person in white robes standing there. "Welcome to Heaven" he said. The old man was happy and started in with his dog following him. The gatekeeper stopped him. "Dogs aren't allowed, I'm sorry but he can't come with you."

"What kind of Heaven won't allow dogs? If he can't come in, then I will stay out with him. He's been my faithful companion all his life, I can't desert him now."

"Suit yourself, but I have to warn you, the Devil's on this road and he'll try to sweet talk you into his area, he'll promise you anything, but the dog can't go there either. If you won't leave the dog, you'll spend Eternity on this road."

So the old man and dog went on. They came to a rundown fence with a gap in it, no gate, just a hole. Another old man was inside. "S'cuse me Sir, my dog and I are getting mighty tired, mind if we come in and sit in the shade for awhile?"

"Of course, there's some cold water under that tree over there. Make yourselves comfortable"

"You're sure my dog can come in? The man down the road said dogs weren't allowed anywhere."

"Would you come in if you had to leave the dog?"

"No sir, that's why I didn't go to Heaven, he said the dog couldn't come in.
We'll be spending Eternity on this road, and a glass of cold water and some shade would be mighty fine right about now. But, I won't come in if my buddy here can't come too, and that's final."

The man smiled a big smile and said "Welcome to Heaven."

"You mean this is Heaven? Dogs ARE allowed? How come that fellow down the road said they weren't?"

"That was the Devil and he gets all the people who are willing to give up a life long companion for a comfortable place to stay. They soon find out their mistake, but then it's too late. The dogs come here, the fickle people stay there. GOD wouldn't allow dogs to be banned from Heaven. After all, HE created them to be man's companions in life, why would he separate them in death?"

Author Unknown