A friend sent this to me today. Makes you think...rc
GOD: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honeybees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles.
ST. FRANCIS: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
GOD: Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.
GOD: They cut it? Do they then bail it like hay?
ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.
GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?
ST. FRANCIS: No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away
GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
ST. FRANCIS: Yes, Sir.
GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.
ST, FRANCIS: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.
GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?
ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
GOD: And where do they get this mulch?
ST FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?
ST. CATHERINE: "Dumb and Dumber", Lord. It's a story about....
GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St Francis.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
Victory - in honor of JoAn
Victory comes in all shapes and sizes and sometimes they just hit us up side of the head. That’s the way it is, isn’t it? I discovered this when my son finished high school (victory), chose a college & received a great scholarship (victory), drove him thirteen hours from home to the college (uh, victory, ouch). Yes, this is the way it is. For all the hard work of a parents’ lifetime, you hit victory and well, victory can hurt like the dickens. Victory took an unexpected turn toward an anguishing pain of loss. Yet, my son has his victory. I have my victory. We have much to celebrate, be proud and thankful for the payoff of dedicated hard work. But, with victory came pain. Paradoxical, wouldn’t you say?
We had another victory this past week. JoAn Dillinger closed her eyes to victory and left us for her home in heaven. The waiting arms of Jesus. Her work here in the physical completed. Victory. And yet, with this wonderful victory of her completed task, we find that we deal with the pain and anguish of loss. It surely hurts and we knew it would. We will remember her well for all her preparations for this victory; for she was surely ready to go. She paid her dues. She did her time here on earth. We will remember.
Faith is the Victory. Faith is the Victory. Oh glorious Victory that overcomes the world. This old song comes to mind this morning. Perhaps it will be the tune on my heart today. JoAn would want it that way. Cause, He said it’s al-right, it’s al-right, it’s al-right, it’s al-right. Don’t ya know that just a little talk with Jesus makes it right? Yeah, JoAn would want it this way.
We had another victory this past week. JoAn Dillinger closed her eyes to victory and left us for her home in heaven. The waiting arms of Jesus. Her work here in the physical completed. Victory. And yet, with this wonderful victory of her completed task, we find that we deal with the pain and anguish of loss. It surely hurts and we knew it would. We will remember her well for all her preparations for this victory; for she was surely ready to go. She paid her dues. She did her time here on earth. We will remember.
Faith is the Victory. Faith is the Victory. Oh glorious Victory that overcomes the world. This old song comes to mind this morning. Perhaps it will be the tune on my heart today. JoAn would want it that way. Cause, He said it’s al-right, it’s al-right, it’s al-right, it’s al-right. Don’t ya know that just a little talk with Jesus makes it right? Yeah, JoAn would want it this way.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
For The Oldtimers
(a friend sent this to me)
My Mom used to cut chicken, chop eggs and spread mayo on the same cutting board with the same knife and no bleach, but we didn't seem to get food poisoning.
My Mom used to defrost hamburger on the counter AND I used to eat it raw sometimes (I didn't do this), too.
Our school sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper in a brown paper bag, not in ice pack coolers, but I can't remember getting ecoli.
Almost all of us would have rather gone swimming in the lake instead of a pristine pool (talk about boring), no beach closures then.
The term cell phone would have conjured up a phone in a jail cell, and a pager was the school PA syste m.
We all took gym, not PE... and risked permanent injury with a pair of high top Ked's (only worn in gym) instead of having cross-training athletic shoes with air cushion soles and built in light reflectors. I can't recall any injuries but they must have happened because they tell us how much safer we are now..
Flunking gym was not an option...even for stupid kids! I guess PE must be much harder than gym.
Speaking of school , we all sang the national anthem, and staying in detention after school caught all sorts of negative attention.
We must have had horribly damaged psyches. What an archaic health system we had then. Remember school nurses? Ours wore a hat and everything.
I thought that I was supposed to accomplish something before I was allowed to be proud of myself.
I just can't recall how bored we were without computers, Play Station, Nintendo, X-box or 270 digital TV cable stations.
Oh yeah... and where was the Benadryl and sterilization kit when I got that bee sting? I could have been killed!
We played 'king of the hill' on piles of gravel left on vacant construction sites, and when we got hurt, Mom pulled out the 48-cent bottle of Mercurochrome (kids liked it better because it didn't sting like iodine did) and then we got our butt spanked.
Now it's a trip to the emergency room, followed by a 10-day dose of a $49 bottle of antibiotics, and then Mom calls the attorney to sue the contractor for leaving a horribly vicious pile of gravel where it was such a threat.
We didn't act up at the neighbor's house either because if we did, we got our butt spanked there and then we got butt spanked again when we got home.
I recall Donny Reynolds from next door coming over and doing his tricks on the front stoop, just before he fell off. Little did his Mom know that she could have owned our house. Instead, she picked him up and swatted him for being such a goof. It was a neighborhood run amuck.
To top it off, not a single person I knew had ever been told that they were from a dysfunctional family How could we possibly have known that?
We needed to get into group therapy and anger management classes? We were obviously so duped by so many societal ills, that we didn't even notice that the entire country wasn't taking Prozac! How did we ever survive?
LOVE TO ALL OF US WHO SHARED THIS ERA, AND TO ALL WHO DIDN'T- SORRY FOR WHAT YOU MISSED. I WOULDN'T TRADE IT FOR ANYTHING
My Mom used to cut chicken, chop eggs and spread mayo on the same cutting board with the same knife and no bleach, but we didn't seem to get food poisoning.
My Mom used to defrost hamburger on the counter AND I used to eat it raw sometimes (I didn't do this), too.
Our school sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper in a brown paper bag, not in ice pack coolers, but I can't remember getting ecoli.
Almost all of us would have rather gone swimming in the lake instead of a pristine pool (talk about boring), no beach closures then.
The term cell phone would have conjured up a phone in a jail cell, and a pager was the school PA syste m.
We all took gym, not PE... and risked permanent injury with a pair of high top Ked's (only worn in gym) instead of having cross-training athletic shoes with air cushion soles and built in light reflectors. I can't recall any injuries but they must have happened because they tell us how much safer we are now..
Flunking gym was not an option...even for stupid kids! I guess PE must be much harder than gym.
Speaking of school , we all sang the national anthem, and staying in detention after school caught all sorts of negative attention.
We must have had horribly damaged psyches. What an archaic health system we had then. Remember school nurses? Ours wore a hat and everything.
I thought that I was supposed to accomplish something before I was allowed to be proud of myself.
I just can't recall how bored we were without computers, Play Station, Nintendo, X-box or 270 digital TV cable stations.
Oh yeah... and where was the Benadryl and sterilization kit when I got that bee sting? I could have been killed!
We played 'king of the hill' on piles of gravel left on vacant construction sites, and when we got hurt, Mom pulled out the 48-cent bottle of Mercurochrome (kids liked it better because it didn't sting like iodine did) and then we got our butt spanked.
Now it's a trip to the emergency room, followed by a 10-day dose of a $49 bottle of antibiotics, and then Mom calls the attorney to sue the contractor for leaving a horribly vicious pile of gravel where it was such a threat.
We didn't act up at the neighbor's house either because if we did, we got our butt spanked there and then we got butt spanked again when we got home.
I recall Donny Reynolds from next door coming over and doing his tricks on the front stoop, just before he fell off. Little did his Mom know that she could have owned our house. Instead, she picked him up and swatted him for being such a goof. It was a neighborhood run amuck.
To top it off, not a single person I knew had ever been told that they were from a dysfunctional family How could we possibly have known that?
We needed to get into group therapy and anger management classes? We were obviously so duped by so many societal ills, that we didn't even notice that the entire country wasn't taking Prozac! How did we ever survive?
LOVE TO ALL OF US WHO SHARED THIS ERA, AND TO ALL WHO DIDN'T- SORRY FOR WHAT YOU MISSED. I WOULDN'T TRADE IT FOR ANYTHING
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
This Explains Why we Forward Jokes.
A man and his dog were walking along a road.
The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up."
The man gestured, and the gate began to open."Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets. "The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water? "Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog."There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.
The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is Heaven," he answered.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said.
"The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?
" No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."
Soooo... Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word.
Maybe this will explain.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.
Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get?A forwarded joke.
So, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you've been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile. : -)
You are all welcome @ my water bowl, anytime !
The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up."
The man gestured, and the gate began to open."Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets. "The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water? "Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog."There should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.
The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is Heaven," he answered.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said.
"The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?
" No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."
Soooo... Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word.
Maybe this will explain.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.
Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get?A forwarded joke.
So, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you've been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile. : -)
You are all welcome @ my water bowl, anytime !
Monday, April 30, 2007
Strawberry Picking
Friday was an absolutely beautiful day. My main mission was to go strawberry picking over near Ashville somewhere. I had my directions and a full tank of gas and other than avoiding the area near Talladega speedway, a wide open road. So I followed the instructions and began my excursion to Lowery Farms. I went by way of Ohatchee and took Mudd Street to Hwy 77, then turned onto 144, crossed the Coosa River and headed into St. Clair County. The longer I drove, the more I began to sense that there was probably a shorter and quicker way to arrive at my destination. However, without a county map, I wasn’t going to start making turns into this unknown territory. So, I followed the directions and low and behold, arrived at the Farm.
It was a beautiful drive but I was tired and even considered the option of just buying the strawberries already picked for a couple dollars more. But, a nice pleasant breeze was blowing and I thought; I’ve driven all this way to pick strawberries, how hard can it be? So I took my hat and my bucket and met a friendly fella and gal who told me where to pick and gave me a few pointers, and I picked my berries.
The plants were in neat rows, grown with only some natural liquid fertilizer and they were full of berries. I should have counted because it didn’t take me ten or twelve plants to get my two gallons of strawberries, with a few sampled along the way to make sure they were sweet. I can’t remember the last time I’d eaten fresh strawberries like that. But, it was a quick picking, I was glad I’d picked them, and I was soon on my way back home, taking another route since I’d discovered I was only two or three miles from the river, and yes, I had taken the ‘long way’ to get there.
The drive home took me by way of Rainbow City and Southside on 77 and then back to Mudd Street and one home. A total of 100 miles I think it was and several hours, but hey, it was a grand day and I spent the next couple hours cleaning, capping and freezing the berries. Of course, I stopped at the store for some whipped topping and an angel food cake, so guess what we had for dessert that nightJ Yum.
It was a beautiful drive but I was tired and even considered the option of just buying the strawberries already picked for a couple dollars more. But, a nice pleasant breeze was blowing and I thought; I’ve driven all this way to pick strawberries, how hard can it be? So I took my hat and my bucket and met a friendly fella and gal who told me where to pick and gave me a few pointers, and I picked my berries.
The plants were in neat rows, grown with only some natural liquid fertilizer and they were full of berries. I should have counted because it didn’t take me ten or twelve plants to get my two gallons of strawberries, with a few sampled along the way to make sure they were sweet. I can’t remember the last time I’d eaten fresh strawberries like that. But, it was a quick picking, I was glad I’d picked them, and I was soon on my way back home, taking another route since I’d discovered I was only two or three miles from the river, and yes, I had taken the ‘long way’ to get there.
The drive home took me by way of Rainbow City and Southside on 77 and then back to Mudd Street and one home. A total of 100 miles I think it was and several hours, but hey, it was a grand day and I spent the next couple hours cleaning, capping and freezing the berries. Of course, I stopped at the store for some whipped topping and an angel food cake, so guess what we had for dessert that nightJ Yum.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
I Read More & Dust Less....
My 80 year old friend sent this to me. I've included the website link at the end so you can go see the graphics and hear the music. Enjoy and have a Blessed Day!'
I Hope You Dance... 'This was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend. *The last line says it all. *
Dear Bertha,
I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working.
Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.
I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.
"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.
I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.
I'm guessing; I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special.
Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.
If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. If you're too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn't do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won't be the last.
Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about, just to let them know that you're thinking of them.
"People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there."Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.
Friday, April 06, 2007
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