Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
September 24, 2005

I woke up shivering the morning of Thanksgiving Day 1969. I’d pulled a canvas tarp over me while laying on a hay bail in a barn just off the road I was hitchhiking on, north of Sacramento going north to Oregon. Freeway 5 was closed for repairs so I found myself on some country road in the middle of no where. I couldn’t sleep with all those roosters crowing in my ear so I quietly sneeked back to the road with my friend Tom. We saw the sun come up to another clear crisp chilly California sunny day. The road was completely deserted of cars for a long time until a black man in a white pick up finally came by and graciously pulled over to pick us up. He headed north to the freeway and let us off at the first off ramp, again in the middle of no where.

We stood there on the side of the freeway for a long time watching the sun slowly rise in the sky and feeling our tongues slowly swell with thirst and hunger. Why was I doing this?

It must’ve been noon with the sun high and the air hot and dry. I thought, “I must be out of God’s will. Nobody has come down this road to pick us up.” I said, “Why don’t we test God to see what His will is. You stand on one side of the road and I’ll stand on the other. The one who gets the first ride, that’s the way we’re suppose to go.”

But then my heart smote me. I hadn’t come this far to go back. I knew it was for God that I’d come this far. How could I be so unresolute? I wasn’t anywhere near dead yet. I sure was in pain though, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual pain.

Then I said, “Why don’t we go over to that almond grove and see if we can get something to eat?” Tom agreed. So we jumped the fences and started going from tree to tree. Not one almond! I saw another grove on the other side of the drainage ditch and said, “Let’s try over there.” I found one hanging on a tree and another on the ground, but nothing else. So we gave up.

We jumped the fences back to the road and stood there quiet, thinking, praying. No traffic. I thought about all the early settlers, our forefathers who had walked into this land a hundred years ago. I thought about the early saints and Israelites who’d persevered though their wildernesses. Finally it came to me I shouldn’t just be dependent on some driver who might pass by. If God wants me to go to Oregon I could walk just like all those who’ve paved this road before me. So I said to Tom, “Let’s walk to a better place to hitchhike.” I could see a long way. I didn’t see a better place to hitchhike. But any place was better than here.

So we started walking through what felt like the Sahara desert. The sun baking down on our skin, the dry wind, the thirst, and the breeze of the cars going by. I didn’t even turn to the traffic any more, I just put out my left arm, thumb up.

I was looking down at the gravel and sand I was walking on just putting one foot in front of the other. Then I saw a pebble that looked strangely different than the others and stopped to look at it. Tom caught up and said, “What are you looking at?” I bent down and picked up an almond just laying there along the side of the road.

We joked and rejoiced and said grace and very carefully divided it up savoring every morsel. Then we started stepping down the road again. Again and again we stopped and stooped to pick up more almonds until we started putting them in our pockets.

Then a white station wagon pulled over in front of us and we ran up to it. The couple inside offered us a ride and said to get in the back seat. When we got in we saw the floor covered with almonds! They were almond growers who had just harvested. They said, “Help yourself.”

They gave us a ride to a perfect place to hitchhike. We’d hardly got out of the car before someone else stopped and gave us a ride all the way to the front door of the commune we were going to in central Oregon, 10 miles off the freeway. We ate Thanksgiving dinner with them and slept under warm blankets that night.

Just before I woke up the next morning I heard a voice asking me, “Where were the almonds?” I said, “Lord, not on the trees, but on the road.” Then was opened to me even further the scripture in Matthew 6:31 – 33, “… Do not be anxious then, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘With what shall we clothe ourselves?’. For all these things the Gentiles eagerly seek; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. …”
— Written by Alan Bane –

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
September 24, 2014

An atheist was walking through the woods one day in Alaska, admiring all that evolution had created. “What majestic trees! What a powerful river! What beautiful animals!” he said to himself. As he was walking alongside the river, he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him.

Turning to look, he saw a 13-foot Kodiak brown bear beginning to charge towards him. He ran as fast as he could down the path.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that the bear was rapidly closing on him. Somehow, he ran even faster, so scared that tears came to his eyes. He looked again & the bear was even closer. His heart pounding in his chest, he tried to run faster yet. But alas, he tripped and fell to the ground.

As he rolled over to pick himself up, the bear was right over him, reaching for him with it’s left paw and raising its right paw to strike him….he yelled out, “OH MY GOD!”

Time stopped…….

The bear froze…….

The forest was silent…………

Even the river stopped moving.

As a brilliant light shone upon the man, a thunderous voice came from all around,

GOD SPOKE:

“YOU DENY MY EXISTENCE FOR ALL THESE YEARS, TEACH OTHERS THAT I DON’T EXIST AND EVEN CREDIT CREATION TO SOME COSMIC ACCIDENT. DO YOU EXPECT ME TO HELP YOU OUT OF THIS PREDICAMENT? “AM I TO COUNT YOU NOW AS A BELIEVER?”

Difficult as it was, the atheist looked directly into the light & said, “It would be hypocritical to ask to be a Christian after all these years, but perhaps you could make the bear a Christian?”

“VERY WELL,” said GOD.

The light went out…

The river ran…

The sounds of the forest resumed..

And the bear dropped down on his knees, brought both paws together, bowed his head and spoke:

“Lord, thank you for this food which I am about to receive, Amen.”

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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
September 23, 2003

A man had a little daughter–an only and much beloved child. He lived only for her, she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts of the best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health.

His best efforts proved fruitless, however, and the child died. The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from his many friends, refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self.

Then one night he had a dream. He was in heaven and witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed, angelic tot carried a candle. He noticed, however, that one child’s candle was not lit. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl. Rushing towards her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and asked, “How is that your candle is the only one not lit?” “Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it out again,” she said.

Just then he awoke from from his dream. The lesson was crystal clear, and it’s effects were immediate. From that hour on he was no longer a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates. No longer would his little darling’s candle be extingushed by his useless tears.

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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
September 21, 2002

There was once a man who didn’t believe in God and didn’t hesitate to let others know how he felt about religion and religious holidays, like Christmas. His wife did believe and raised their children to have faith in God and Jesus.

One snowy Christmas Eve, his wife was taking their children to a Christmas Eve service in the farm community in which they lived. She asked her husband to come, but he refused as usual, .. “The Christmas story is nonsense!” he exclaimed. “Why would God lower Himself to come to Earth as a man? That’s ridiculous!” She and the children went, and he stayed home.

That night the wind began to blow and the snow turned into a blizzard. As the man looked out the window, all he could see was a blinding snowstorm. He sat down before the fire-place to relax . Suddenly there was a loud thump. Something had hit the window. Then a second thump. He looked out, but couldn’t see more than a few feet because of the blinding snow.

When the storm let up a little, he ventured out to see what could have been beating on his window. In the field near the house was a flock of wild geese. Apparently they were flying south when they were caught in the blizzard and couldn’t go on.

They were lost and stranded on his farm, without food or shelter. Flapping their wings, they aimlessly flew around the field in low circles. Some had apparently flown into his window.

The man felt concern for the geese and wanted to help them.

The barn would be a great place for them to stay, he thought. It was warm and safe. They would be saved if they spent the night there waiting out the storm.

He opened the barn doors wide. Then he watched and waited, hoping they would notice the open barn and enter. But the geese just fluttered around aimlessly and didn’t seem to notice the barn or realize what it could mean for them.

The man tried to get their attention, but that just seemed to scare them and they moved further away. He went into the house and brought out some bread, broke it up, and made a breadcrumb trail leading to the barn. They still didn’t catch on.

Now he was getting frustrated. He got behind them and tried to shoo them toward the barn, but they only became frightened and scattered in every direction except toward the barn.

Nothing he did could get them to go into the barn where they would be safe. “Why don’t they follow me?” he puzzled. “Can’t they see this is the only place where they can survive?”

He thought for a moment and realized that they just wouldn’t follow a human. “If only I were a goose, then I could save them,” he said out loud.

Suddenly he had an idea. He went into the barn, got one of his own geese, and carried it in his arms as he circled around behind the flock of wild geese. When he released his goose, it flew through the flock and straight into the safety of the barn. One by one the other geese followed it to safety.

He stood silently for a moment as the words he had spoken a few minutes earlier replayed in his mind: “If only I were a goose, then I could save them!” Then he thought about what he had said to his wife.

Suddenly it all made sense. That is what God had done. We were like the geese–blind, lost, perishing. God had His Son become like us so He could show us the way and save us. That was the meaning of Christmas, he realized. As the winds and blinding snow died down, his soul became quiet. Suddenly he understood what Christmas was all about, why Christ had come.

Years of doubt and disbelief vanished like the passing storm. He fell to his knees in the snow, and prayed his first real prayer: “Thank You, Lord, for coming in human form to get me out of this world and leading me to a better one. Lead me to the safety of Your Father’s arms.”

Author Unknown - Please comment if you know the author
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Originally posted on this girl is free:

Your eyes open quickly. You glance around, confused for only a moment before you are able to adjust to the black of your room. Did you sleep past your alarm? No – you check your phone and your alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. You still have plenty of time. You think that if you get out of bed now, you might actually be able to look presentable. But try as you might, you can’t seem to move. The blankets weigh you down, your head feels heavy, and you have no desire to face the world.

If you don’t leave this warm bed, you won’t have to think about all the ways in which you failed yesterday and face the many ways you will fail today. You won’t have to speak to the people who consistently dig their claws into your soul and offer them a placating smile while pretending…

View original 978 more words

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
September 20, 2000

Occasionally I share a Blog Post that touches my heart…..    You can tell by the title of the Blog why it got my attention: “Morning Coffee and Daily Devotional.”  Get a fresh cup of coffee or tea and enjoy….  The Link is below       Take Care and God Bless  :-)  Kenny  T

http://morningcoffeedevotions.wordpress.com/2014/09/07/morning-coffee-9714-just-be-thankful/

 

 

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
September 18, 1999

Kleenex Alert!!!!

Dr. Frederic Loomis faced a very difficult decision, should he allow the deformed baby about to be delivered to live or die. He had only seconds to decide. Dr. Loomis had delivered hundreds of babies, but this one was different.

The infant lay in a breech position, promising at best a difficult and dangerous birth. One of its feet stretched only to the knee of the other leg. Furthermore, the child was missing a thigh. The mother, a frail person visiting the sterile delivery room for her first time, wasn’t aware of the grossly deformed child struggling to survive.

Dr. Loomis closed his eyes; at his fingertips squirmed a pitiful creature yet unborn. Would not the most loving thing be to detain the birth long enough to cause the child to be stillborn? He agonized within himself. Will this kid not be considered a freak, a twisted burden to its delicate mother?

How can I justify playing a part in such a cruel drama? Surely no one will ever know if I spare this family from inevitable pain. The doctor, through the baby’s cord, felt its heartbeat- dancing in rhythm to his own wildly racing heart.

As Dr. Loomis continued to prevent the birth, he felt the normal foot pressing for passage into the world. Suddenly, he could no longer justify “playing God.” Instead, he would trust God to care for this child against what seemed to be impossible odds. Dr. Loomis delivered the infant into the world, which, he sensed, would be very unkind.

In the years that followed, Dr. Loomis often second-guessed his decision. He watched the anguish of the family as desperate parents sought in vain to find some correction for their child’s deformity. Even after they moved away, Dr. Loomis continued to lament the burden that he’d saddled on the family. The heartache, if often said to himself, was his fault. In time, however, Dr. Loomis would find peace. It came at an unexpected time and place, the hospital Christmas party.

Typically, it was during the holiday season when his pain seemed most severe. He couldn’t shake the image of that unfortunate child from his mind. While the world celebrated the greatest birth ever known, Dr. Loomis obsessed over the saddest birth he’d ever known.

At this particular party, the most heavenly music filled the room. The sadness seemed to dissipate as the rich tones of “Silent Night” washed Dr. Loomis’ anguished spirit.

Following the concert, a woman approached him. “Doctor,”  she said excitedly. “You saw her!”

Dr. Loomis studied the woman’s face, wanting to recognize her but unable to recall the memory. “I’m sorry. I should know you, but you may need to help me.”

“Don’t you remember the little girl with only one good leg, seventeen years ago?”

Remember….it was the one thing in his life that he couldn’t forget!

In disbelief, he listened to her story. “That baby was my daughter, Doctor. And I saw you watching her play the harp tonight! She has an artificial leg. She’s doing well.”

At her Mom’s bidding, the lovely harpist walked toward them.  With tears in his eyes, Dr. Loomis enveloped the girl in his arms. “Please,” he said in a tightening voice, “please play Silent Night for me one more time.”

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