Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
October 22, 2002

Suppose that tomorrow morning your phone rings and the operator informs you that you have a call from Buckingham Palace, London, England. The person in England comes on the line, identifies himself as an administrator in charge of the education of the children of the king of England.

He proceeds to tell you that he has had observers around the United States looking for the perfect tutor for the king’s children. After many months of evaluation, he has determined that you are the one best qualified to tutor the royal offspring. Would you please fly to England at your earliest convenience to discuss assuming these responsibilities? Now, as a matter of fact, you just happen to have some ideas about raising children and you are excited and eager to take the job.

You fly to England and sign a contract. But before you begin your job, the administrator says you are going to have to take two weeks of intensive study to learn the finer points of raising the king’s children.

During this time, you learn that children of royalty adhere to a different curriculum than most other children. They must not only learn to read and write, gain maturity and be proficient in many fields of academic endeavor. They must also be familiar with the history of their country and of western civilization. They must learn how to function in the royal court. They must know how to treat their subjects with consideration and tact. They must learn to relate to the heads-of-state of other countries. They must learn about political amenities and that their time is not always their own. They may not get to play in the street with other children. They will not be exposed to crudity or vulgarity. They will learn to be moral, true, honest, gracious, kind, gentle, and yet strong in their convictions.

When the two weeks are completed, you begin a successful career of raising the children of the king. In later years, you are honored for having attained your goals. The king commends you and his children commend you for your devotion and hard work.

A fanciful story, you may say. But let me suggest this: if you have children in your home, you have already received a call to raise royal offspring. The call did not come from Buckingham Palace, it has come from the throne of Almighty God. You do not have to go to London to do your tutoring, you can do it in your own home with the children God gave you to raise.

Your children may not serve in English courts, but they have the potential to serve in the kingdom of God as sons of God. When your children accept Jesus Christ as Savior, they become members of the Kingdom of God. There is no higher ranking in all the world. You may not live in a palace on earth, but you children can live in palaces in heaven if you do your job right.

Give your children the very special training God’s children ought to have. Teach them to obey, to be gentle and kind, but powerful for righteousness and morality. Teach them the Bible, teach them how to pray, teach them to put others before themselves as Jesus did. Teach them to obey God’s commands and to have a perfect heart before God.

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
October 20, 2001

I am God. Today I will be handling all of your problems.

Please remember that I do not need your help.

If the devil happens to deliver a situation to you that you cannot handle, DO NOT attempt to resolve it. Kindly put it in the SFJTD (something for Jesus to do) Box. It will be addressed in MY time, not yours.

Once the matter is placed into the box, do not hold on to it or attempt to remove it. Holding on or removal will delay the resolution of your problem.

If it is a situation that you think you are capable of handling, please consult me in prayer to be sure that it is the proper resolution.

Because I do not sleep nor do I slumber, there is no need for you to lose any sleep.

Rest my child. If you need to contact me, I am only a prayer away.

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
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Morning Story and Dibert

Vintage Dilbert
October 19, 1992

He placed one scoop of clay upon another until a form lay lifeless on the ground.

All of the Garden’s inhabitants paused to witness the event. Hawks hovered. Giraffes stretched. Trees bowed. Butterflies paused on petals and watched.

“You will love me, nature,” God said. “I made you that way. You will obey me, universe. For you were designed to do so. You will reflect my glory, skies, for that is how you were created. But this one will be like me. This one will be able to choose.”

All were silent as the Creator reached into himself and removed something yet unseen. A seed. “it’s called ‘choice.’ The seed of choice.”

Creation stood in silence and gazed upon the lifeless form.

An angel spoke, “But what if he …”

“What if he chooses not to love?” the Creator finished. “Come, I will show you.”

Unbound by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow.

“There, see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and the bitter.”

The angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion. Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters. He saw the food and the burdens shared. He absorbed the kindness and marveled at the warmth.

“Heaven has never seen such beauty, my Lord. Truly, this is your greatest creation.”

“Ah, but you’ve only seen the sweet. Now witness the bitter.”

A stench enveloped the pair. The angel turned in horror and proclaimed, “What is it?”

The Creator spoke only one word: “Selfishness.”

The angel stood speechless as they passed through centuries of repugnance. Never had he seen such filth. Rotten hearts. Ruptured promises. Forgotten loyalties. Children of the creation wandering blindly in lonely labyrinths.

“This is the result of choice? the angel asked.

“Yes.”

“They will forget you?”

“Yes.”

“They will reject you?”

“Yes.”

They will never come back?

“Some will. Most won’t.”

“What will it take to make them listen?”

The Creator walked on in time, further and further into the future, until he stood by a tree. A tree that would be fashioned into a cradle. Even then he could smell the hay that would surround him.

With another step into the future, he paused before another tree. It stood alone, a stubborn ruler on a bald hill. The trunk was thick, and the wood was strong. Soon it would be cut. Soon it would be trimmed. Soon it would be mounted on the stony brow of another hill. And soon he would be hung on it.

He felt the wood rub against a back he did not yet wear.

“Will you go down there?” the angel asked.

“I will.”

“Is there no other way?”

“There is not.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to not plant the seed? Wouldn’t it be easier to not give the choice?”

“It would,” the Creator spoke slowly. “But to remove the choice is to remove the love.”

He look around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind.

Men clad in soldier’s garb sat on the ground near the trio. They played games in the dirt and laughed.

Men clad in religion stood off to one side. They smiled. Arrogant, cocky. They had protected God, they thought by killing this false one.

Women clad in sorrow huddled at the foot of the hill. Speechless. Faces tear streaked. Eyes downward. One put her arm around another and tried to lead her away. She wouldn’t leave. “I will stay,” she said softly, “I will stay.”

All heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poised to protect. But the Creator gave no command.

“It must be done…,” he said, and withdrew.

But as he stepped in time, he heard the cry that he would someday scream: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He wrenched at tomorrow’s agony.

The angel spoke again. “I would be less painful…”

The Creator interrupted softly. “But it wouldn’t be love.”

They stepped into the Garden again. The Maker looked earnestly at the clay creation. A monsoon of love swelled up within him. He had died for the creation before he had made him. God’s form bent over the sculptured face and breathed. Dust stirred on the lips of the new one. The chest rose, cracking the red mud. The cheeks fleshened. A finger moved. And an eye opened.

But more incredible than the moving of the flesh was the stirring of the spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped.

Perhaps it was the wind who said it first. Perhaps what the star saw that moment is what has made it blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper it:

“It looks like … it appears to so much like … it is him!”

The angel wasn’t speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was looking inside – at the soul.

“It’s eternal!” gasped another.

Within the man, God has placed a divine seed. A seed of his self. The God of might had created earth’s mightiest. The Creator had created, not a creature, but another creator. And the One who had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.

Now it’s our choice.

by Max Lucado – from In the Eye of the Storm

Originally posted on In The Corner:

Good grief.  I know I was told I would have energy – but this is ridiculous!

I had a difficult time falling to sleep – restless legs. You know what that’s like. I felt like running a marathon while laying down in my bed.  My eyes were tired, but I couldn’t keep my legs still.  I got up.  I got down.  And because I knew I had to drink water to flush the toxins out of my system, naturally, I had to go use the facilities…often.  This was a relief of sorts as I had a good excuse to get up!  So- that was how the night marched on.  All in all, though, I woke up feeling rested and refreshed.  (What?)

I woke up at 4:00 and forced myself to stay in bed until 5:30am when I knew Kevin would be up to prepare me a coffee!  (grin)  I stood…

View original 614 more words

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
October 17, 2007

Years ago, in a small fishing village in Holland, a young boy taught the world about the rewards of unselfish service. Because the entire village revolved around the fishing industry, a volunteer rescue team was needed in cases of emergency.
One night the winds raged, the clouds burst and a gale force storm capsized a fishing boat at sea. Stranded and in trouble, the crew sent out the S.O.S. The captain of the rescue rowboat team sounded the alarm and the villagers assembled in the town square overlooking the bay. While the team launched their rowboat and fought their way through the wild waves, the villagers waited restlessly on the beach, holding lanterns to light the way back.

An hour later, the rescue boat reappeared through the fog and the cheering villagers ran to greet them. Falling exhausted on the sand, the volunteers reported that the rescue boat could not hold any more passengers and they had to leave one man behind. Even one more passenger would have surely capsized the rescue boat and all would have been lost.

Frantically, the captain called for another volunteer team to go after the lone survivor. Sixteen-year-old Hans stepped forward. His mother grabbed his arm, pleading, “Please don’t go. Your father died in a shipwreck 10 years ago and your older brother, Paul, has been lost at sea for three weeks. Hans, you are all I have left.”

Hans replied, “Mother, I have to go. What if everyone said, ‘I can’t go, let someone else do it?’ Mother, this time I have to do my duty. When the call for service comes, we all need to take our turn and do our part.” Hans kissed his mother, joined the team and disappeared into the night.

Another hour passed, which seemed to Hans’ mother like an eternity. Finally, the rescue boat darted through the fog with Hans standing up in the bow. Cupping his hands, the captain called, “Did you find the lost man?” Barely able to contain himself, Hans excitedly yelled back, “Yes, we found him. Tell my mother it’s my older brother, Paul!”

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
October 16, 2006

***  Kleenex Alert  ***

A teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the son was always on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game.

This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to encourage him but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he didn’t want to. But the young man loved football and decided to hang in there.

He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps he’d get to play when he became a senior. All through high school he never missed a practice nor a game, but remained a bench. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.

When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team as a “walk-on.” Everyone was sure he could never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he kept him on the roster because he always puts his heart and soul to every practice, and at the same time, provided the other members with the spirit and hustle they badly needed.

The news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and was sent season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in the game. It was the end of his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field shortly before the big play off game, the coach met him with a telegram.

The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent. Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, “My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?” The coach put his arm gently around his shoulder and said, “Take the rest of the week off, son. And don’t even plan to come back to the game on Saturday.

In the third quarter, when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran onto the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful teammate back so soon. “Coach, please let me play. I’ve just go to play today,” said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close.

Feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. “All right,” he said. “You can go in.” Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fans broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you’ve never heard! Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone.

The coach came to him and said, “Kid, I can’t believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?” He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said, “Well, you knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?” The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, “Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!”

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author so credit can be given
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
October 14, 1995

Alison was a very determined four year old girl. She was interested in everything, but drawing especially was her expertise. Her mother Ann bought her papers and colors and brushes and pencils and it seemed Alison used them all in a day or two.

This time she had decided she wanted to learn to draw houses. Where ever you looked, you could see papers with drawings of square houses with square windows and little chimney’s on the roof – smoke curling up to the sky under a bright yellow sun, in an amazingly blue sky that invariably had one white cloud too. And there was always bright green grass around the house, speckled with red flowers. Alison loved red flowers.

Alison showed her drawings to everyone. She especially wanted to impress her father. There is a time when daughters and dads bond strongly, and Alison sure loved her dad and wanted to bond. She wanted to bond very much – but dad always seemed to be to busy. Ann watched with a heavy heart how daughter and dad very seldom played together and how the father reacted to Alison’s attempts to show her drawings to him.

- Yes, honey, that is lovely, he would barely glimpse at Alison´s drawings, and then answer his cell phone or go to his study.

One day Alison used many hours to draw a really detailed house. It was magnificent. She had drawn individual tiles and colored them one by one, carefully leaving white space between the tiles. She had drawn curtains in the windows, and herself, mom and dad looking out of the them. On the lawn was the puppy she so much wanted to have.

- Look, mom! she ran to show her drawing to her mother.

- Oh, Alison, this is so beautiful!! Your best ever!

Alison beamed.

- I´ll show this to dad now!

She ran down the hall to the closed door of her father´s study.

- Dad! Dad! She tried to open the door.

It was locked. Alison´s mom saw the expression of disappointment on her daughter´s face. She reached for the door knob once again.

- Dad?

They could hear him talking on the phone with someone. Then the talking stopped.

- DAD! Alison knocked on the door, – I want you to see the house I made!

- I´m sorry, Alison, I am busy, came the voice behind the door, – Can´t you show it to someone else?

Alison´s hand fell down to her side. She looked down on her magnificent drawing and her lower lip started to tremble.

- I don´t want to show it to anyone else. I want to show it to my dad. You’re the only dad I have!

The last words were no more than a whisper and yet they were left hanging in the air like someone had shouted them.

Alison´s mom felt such heaviness in her heart and she took a step towards her daughter, ready for a hug. But before she took another step, she heard a click. The door was unlocked and Alison´s dad appeared. He looked embarrassed.

- I´m sorry Alison. I was stupid, he kissed his daughter´s cheek, – Come here and we´ll look at your drawing!

 

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
 so credit can be given
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