Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 21, 2014

By Christie Craig

We all know what it’s like to get that phone call in the middle of the night. This night was no different. Jerking up to the ringing summons, I focused on the red, illuminated numbers of my clock. Midnight. Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?” My heart pounded, I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed.

“Mama?” The voice answered. I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter.

When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clear on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist.

“Mama, I know it’s late. But don’t… don’t say anything until I finish. And before you ask, yes I’ve been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back and… I drew in a sharp, shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasn’t right.

“…And I got so scared. All I could think of was how if would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said I’d been killed. I want… to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know you’ve been worried sick. I should have called you days ago but I was afraid… afraid…”

Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I pictured my daughter’s face in my mind, and my fogged senses seemed to clear, “I think —

“No! Please let me finish! Please!” She pleaded, not so much in anger, but in desperation. I paused and tried to think what to say. Before I could go on, she continued. “I’m pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn’t be drinking now…especially now, but I’m scared, Mama. So scared!”

The voice broke again, and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked up at my husband, who sat silently mouthing, “Who is it?”

I shook my head and when I didn’t answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with a portable phone held to his ear. She must have heard the click in the line because she asked, “Are you still there? Please don’t hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone.”

I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. “I’m here, I wouldn’t hang up, ” I said.

“I should have told you, Mama. I know I should have told you. But, when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don’t listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren’t important. Because you’re my mother you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I don’t need answers. I just want someone to listen.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my nightstand. “I’m listening,” I whispered.

“You know, back there on the road after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I could hear you preaching to me about how people shouldn’t drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home.”

“That’s good honey,” I said, relief filling my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine.

“But you know, I think I can drive now.”

“No!” I snapped. My muscles stiffened and I tightened the clasp on my husband’s hand. “Please, wait for the taxi. Don’t hang up on me until the taxi gets there.”

“I just want to come home, Mama.”

“I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please.”

I listened to the silence fearing. When I didn’t hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving. “There’s the taxi, now.” Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing.

“I’m coming home, Mama.” There was a click, and the phone went silent. Moving from the bed, tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my 16 year old daughter’s room. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “We have to learn to listen,” I said to him. He studied me for a second, and then asked, “Do you think she’ll ever know she dialed the wrong number?”

I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him.”Maybe it wasn’t such a wrong number.”

“Mom, Dad, what are you doing?” The muffled voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the darkness. “We’re practicing,” I answered.

“Practicing what?” she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, but her eyes already closed in slumber.

“Listening,” I whispered and brushed a hand over her cheek.

By Christie Craig
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
April 17, 2004

Why did Jesus fold the linen burial cloth after His resurrection?

The Gospel of John (20:7) tells us that the napkin, which was placed over
The face of Jesus, was not just thrown aside like the grave clothes.
The Bible takes an entire verse to tell us that the napkin was neatly
Folded, and was placed separate from the grave clothes.

Early Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the
Tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance.
She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom
Jesus loved.  She said, ‘They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and I
Don’t know where they have put him!’

Peter and the  other disciple ran to the tomb to see..
The other disciple outran Peter and got there first. He stooped and
looked in and saw the linen cloth lying there, but he didn’t go in.

Then Simon Peter arrived and went inside..
He also noticed the linen wrappings lying there, while the cloth that
had covered Jesus’ head was folded up and lying to the side.

Was that important? Absolutely!
Is it really significant?
Yes!

In order to understand the significance of the folded napkin, you have to
Understand a little bit about Hebrew tradition of that day. The folded
Napkin had to do with the Master and Servant; every Jewish boy knew
this tradition.

When the servant set the dinner table for the master, he made sure that it
Was exactly the way the master wanted it..

The table was furnished perfectly, and then the servant would wait,
just out of sight, until the master had finished eating. The  servant
would not dare touch that table, until the master was finished.

Now if the master were done eating, he would rise from the table, wipe his
Fingers, his mouth, and clean his beard, and would wad up that napkin and
Toss it onto the table.

The servant would then know to clear the table.
For in those days, the wadded napkin meant, ‘I’m done’.

But if the master got up from the table,
And folded his napkin, and laid it beside his plate,
The servant would not dare touch the table,

Because……….

The folded napkin meant, ‘I’m coming back!’

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

Vintage Dilbert
April 16, 2005

A minister passing through his church in the middle of the day, decided to pause by the altar and see who had come to pray.

Just then the back door opened, a man came down the aisle.

The minister frowned as he saw the man hadn’t shaved in a while.

His shirt was kinda shabby and his coat was worn and frayed.

The man knelt, he bowed his head, then rose and walked away.

In the days that followed, each noon time came this chap,

Each time he knelt just for a moment, a lunch pail in his lap.

Well, the minister’s suspicions grew, with robbery a main fear,

He decided to stop the man and ask him, “What are you doing here?”

The old man said, he worked down the road. Lunch was half an hour.

Lunchtime was his prayer time, for finding strength and power.

“I stay only moments, see, because the factory is so far away;

As I kneel here talking to the Lord, this is kinda what I say:

“I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY. SO, JESUS, THIS IS JIM CHECKING IN TODAY.”

The minister feeling foolish, told Jim, that was fine.

He told the man he was welcome to come and pray just anytime.

Time to go, Jim smiled, said “Thanks.” He hurried to the door.

The minister knelt at the altar, he’d never done it before.

His cold heart melted, warmed with love, and met with Jesus there.

As the tears flowed, in his heart, he repeated old Jim’s prayer:

“I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD, HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

I DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY. SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME CHECKING IN TODAY.”

Past noon one day, the minister noticed that old Jim hadn’t come.

As more days passed without Jim, he began to worry some.

At the factory, he asked about him, learning he was ill.

The hospital staff was worried, but he’d given them a thrill.

The week that Jim was with them, brought changes in the ward.

His smiles, a joy contagious. Changed people, were his reward.

The head nurse couldn’t understand why Jim was so glad, when no flowers, calls or cards came, not a visitor he had.

The minister stayed by his bed, he voiced the nurse’s concern:

No friends came to show they cared. He had nowhere to turn.

Looking surprised, old Jim spoke up and with a winsome smile; “the nurse is wrong, she couldn’t know, that in here all the while everyday at noon He’s here, a dear friend of mine, you see, He sits right down, takes my hand, leans over and says to me:

“I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, JIM, HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP, AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN.

ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY, I THINK ABOUT YOU EACHDAY,

AND SO JIM, THIS IS JESUS CHECKING IN TODAY.”

 

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

Vintage Dilbert
April 15, 2011

How often we wish for another chance
to make a fresh beginning.
A chance to blot out our mistakes
And change failure into winning.
It does not take a new day
To make a brand new start,
It only takes a deep desire
To try with all our heart.
To live a little better
And to always be forgiving
And to add a little sunshine
To the world in which we’re living.
So never give up in despair
And think that you are through,
For there’s always a tomorrow
And the hope of starting new.

Author – Helen Steiner Rice

Originally posted on "Working for Christ":

Jesus said, “My Father is always at His work to this very day” (John 5:17, NIV) and “we must do the works of Him who sent me…while I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” (John 9:4-5, NIV)

Lonely

Have you ever felt alone? Maybe you’re self-employed, or perhaps you travel every week, or you work the late night shift. Maybe you’re the only Christian in your office and opportunities for sharing common beliefs are scarce. You may feel alone wondering if your work really makes a difference. Will the work you do today really count tomorrow, next week, or next month?

Jesus recognizes these concerns. At one point in His ministry He said, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head”. (Matthew 8:20, NIV) Another time, nearly…

View original 165 more words

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
March 25, 2014

A passenger in a taxi leaned over to ask the driver a question and tapped him on the shoulder. The driver screamed, lost control of the cab, nearly hit a bus, drove up over the curb, and stopped just inches from a large glass window.

For a few moments everything was silent in the cab, and then the still shaking driver said, “I’m sorry but you scared the daylights out of me.”

The frightened passenger, apologized to the driver, and said he didn’t realize a mere tap on the shoulder could frighten him so much.

The driver replied, “No, no, I’m sorry, it’s entirely my fault. Today is my first day driving a cab…. I’ve been driving a hearse for the last 25 years.”

 

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

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 6,783 other followers

%d bloggers like this: