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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
February 20, 1998

A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin, 5, and Ryan, 3. The boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake. Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson. If Jesus were sitting here, He would say, “Let my brother have the first pancake. I can wait.” Kevin turned to his younger brother and said, “Ryan, you be Jesus.”

A father was at the beach with his children when his four-year-old son ran up to him, grabbed his hand, and led him to the shore, where a seagull lay dead in the sand. “Daddy, what happened to him?” the son asked. “He died and went to Heaven,” the dad replied.  The boy thought a moment and then said, “Did God throw him back down?”

A wife invited some people to dinner. At the table, she turned to their six-year-old daughter and said, Would you like to say the blessing?” “I wouldn’t know what to say,” the girl replied. “Just say what you hear Mommy say,” the wife answered.
The daughter bowed her head and said, “Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?”

A mother was teaching her three-year-old The Lord’s Prayer. For several evenings at bedtime, the child repeated it after the mother. Then one night the child was ready to solo. The mother listened with pride to the carefully enunciated words, right up to the end.  “And lead us not into temptation,but deliver us some e-mail…”

A little boy opened the big and old family Bible with fascination, and looked at the old pages as he turned them. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible, and he picked it up and looked at it closely. It was an old leaf from a tree that had been pressed in between the pages. “Momma, look what I found,” the boy called out. “What have you got there, dear?” his mother asked. With astonishment in the young boy’s voice, he answered:  “I think it’s Adam’s suit!”

Six-year-old Angie and her four-year-old brother Joel were sitting together in church. Joel giggled, sang, and talked out loud. Finally, his big sister had enough. “You’re not supposed to talk out loud in church.” “Why? Who’s going to stop me?” Joel asked.  Angie pointed to the back of the church and said, “See those two men standing by the door? They’re hushers.”

A father was reading Bible stories to his young son. He read, “The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city, but his wife looked back and was turned to salt.”   His son asked, “What happened to the flea?”

A three-year-old boy went with his dad to see a litter of kittens. On returning home, he breathlessly informed his mother,”There were 2 boy kittens and 2 girl kittens.” How did you know?” his mother asked. “Daddy picked them up and looked underneath,” he replied.   “I think it’s printed on the bottom.”

Another three-year-old put his shoes on by himself. His mother noticed that the left shoe was on the right foot. She said, “Son, your shoes are on the wrong feet.”   He looked up at her with a raised brow and said, “Don’t kid me, Mom. They’re the only feet I got!”

On the first day of school, about mid-morning, the kindergarten teacher said, “If anyone has to go to the bathroom, hold up two fingers.”   A little voice from the back of the room asked, “How will that help?”

A mother and her young son returned from the grocery store and began putting away the groceries. The boy opened the box of animal crackers and spread them all over the table. “What are you doing?” his mother asked. “The box says not to eat them if the seal is broken” the boy explained.   “I’m looking for the seal.”

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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
February 19, 2013

The hospital was unusually quiet that bleak January evening, quiet and still like the air before a storm.

I stood in the nurses’ station on the seventh floor and glanced at the clock. It was 9 P.M. I threw a stethoscope around my neck and headed for room 712, last room on the hall. Room 712 had a new patient. Mr. Williams. A man all alone. A man strangely silent about his family.

As I entered the room, Mr. Williams looked up eagerly, but drooped his eyes when he saw it was only me, his nurse. I pressed the stethoscope over his chest and listened. Strong, slow, even beating. Just what I wanted to hear. There seemed little indication he had suffered a slight heart attack a few hours earlier.

He looked up from his starched white bed. “Nurse, would you –” He hesitated, tears filling his eyes. Once before he had started to ask me a question, but changed his mind. I touched his hand, waiting. He brushed away a tear. “Would you call my daughter? Tell her I’ve had a heart attack. A slight one. You see, I live alone and she is the only family I have.”

His respiration suddenly speeded up. I turned his nasal oxygen up to eight liters a minute. “Of course I’ll call her, I said, studying his face. He gripped the sheets and pulled himself forward, his face tense with urgency. “Will you call her right away — as soon as you can?” He was breathing fast — too fast. “I’ll call her the very first thing,” I said, patting his shoulder. I flipped off the light. He closed his eyes, such young blue eyes in his 50 – year — old face.

Room 712 was dark except for a faint night light under the sink. Oxygen gurgled in the green tubes above his bed. Reluctant to leave, I moved through the shadowysilence to the window. The panes were cold. Below a foggy mist curled through the hospital parking lot. “Nurse,” he called, “could you get me a pencil from my pocket and set it on the bedside table.

I walked back to the nurses’ station and sat in a squeaky swivel chair by the phone. Mr. Williams’s daughter was listed on his chart as the next of kin. I got her number from information and dialed.

Her soft voice answered. “Janie, this is Sue Kidd, a registered nurse at the hospital. I’m calling about your father. He was admitted tonight with a slight heart attack and — “No!” she screamed into the phone, startling me. “He’s not dying is he ?” “His condition is stable at the moment,” I said, trying hard to sound convincing. Silence. I bit my lip. “You must not let him die!” she said. Her voice was so utterly compelling that my hand trembled on the phone. “He is getting the very best care.” “But you don’t understand,” she pleaded. “My daddy and I haven’t spoken since my 21st birthday, we had a fight over my boyfriend. I ran out of the house. I…I haven’t been back. All these months I’ve wanted to go to him for forgiveness. The last thing I said to him was, ‘I hate you.”

Her voice cracked and I heard her heave great agonizing sobs. I sat, listening, tears burning my eyes. A father and a daughter, so lost to each other. Then I was thinking of my own father, many miles away. It has been so long since I had said, “I love you.”

As Janie struggled to control her tears, I breathed a prayer. “Please God, let this daughter find forgiveness.” “I’m coming. Now! I’ll be there in 30 minutes,” she said. Click. She had hung up.

I tried to busy myself with a stack of charts on the desk. I couldn’t concentrate. Room 712; I knew I had to get back to 712. I hurried down the hall nearly in a run. I opened the door. Mr. Williams lay unmoving. I reached for his pulse. There was none.

“Code 99, Room 712. Code 99. Stat.”

The alert was shooting through the hospital within seconds after I called the switchboard through the intercom by the bed. Mr. Williams had had a cardiac arrest. With lightning speed I leveled the bed and bent over his mouth, breathing air into his lungs. I positioned my hands over his chest and compressed. One, two, three. I tried to count. At fifteen I moved back to his mouth and breathed as deeply as I could. Where was help? Again I compressed and breathed, Compressed and breathed. He could not die! “O God,” I prayed. “His daughter is coming. Don’t let it end this way.”

The door burst open. Doctors and nurses poured into the room pushing emergency equipment. A doctor took over the manual compression of the heart. A tube was inserted through his mouth as an airway. Nurses plunged syringes of medicine into the intravenous tubing. I connected the heart monitor. Nothing. Not a beat. My own heart pounded. “God, don’t let it end like this. Not in bitterness and hatred. His daughter is coming. Let her find peace.” “Stand back,” cried a doctor. I handed him the paddles for the electrical shock to the heart. He placed them on, Mr. Williams’s chest. Over and over we tried. But nothing. No response. Mr. Williams was dead.

A nurse unplugged the oxygen. The gurgling stopped. One by one they left, grim and silent. How could this happen? How? I stood by his bed, stunned. A cold wind rattled the window, pelting the panes with snow. Outside-everywhere–seemed a bed of blackness, cold and dark. How could I face his daughter?

When I left the room, I saw her against a wall by a water fountain. A doctor who had been inside 712 only moments before stood at her side, talking to her, gripping her elbow. Then he moved on, leaving her slumped against the wall. Such pathetic hurt reflected from her face. Such wounded eyes. She knew. The doctor had told her that her father was gone.

I took her hand and led her into the nurses’ lounge. We sat on little green stools, neither saying a word. She stared straight ahead at a pharmaceutical calendar, glass-faced, almost breakable-looking. “Janie, I’m so, so sorry,” I said. It was pitifully inadequate. “I never hated him, you know. I loved him,” she said. God, please help her, I thought.

Suddenly she whirled toward me. “I want to see him.” My first thought was, Why put yourself through more pain? Seeing him will only make it worse. But I got up and wrapped my arm around her. We walked slowly down the corridor to 712. Outside the door I squeeze her hand, wishing she would change her mind about going inside.

She pushed open the door. We moved to the bed, huddled together, taking small steps in unison. Janie leaned over the bed and buried her face in the sheets. I tried not to look at her at this sad, sad good-bye. I backed against the bedside table. My hand fell upon a scrap of yellow paper. I picked it up.

It read:

_______________________________________________

My dearest Janie, I forgive you. I pray you will also forgive me. I know that you love me. I love you too, Daddy _______________________________________________

The note was shaking in my hands as I thrust it toward Janie. She read it once. Then twice. Her tormented face grew radiant. Peace began to glistenin her eyes. She hugged the scrap of paper to her breast. “Thank You, God,” I whispered, looking up at the window. A few crystal stars blinked through the blackness. A snowflake hit the window and melted away, gone forever. Life seemed as fragile as a snowflake on the window. But thank You, God, that relationships, sometimes fragile as snowflakes, can be mended together again — but there is not a moment to spare.

I crept from the room and hurried to the phone. I would call my father. I would say, “I love you”.

From me to you, do not wait until it is to late to tell those that you love that you do care. You might be missing the greatest joy of your life.

Author - Sue Monk Kidd (best-known for her novel "The Secret Life of Bees")
Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
February 18, 1999

A few years ago, when my mother was visiting, she asked me to go shopping with her because she needed a new dress. I don’t normally like to go shopping with other people, and I’m not a patient person, but we set off for the mall together nonetheless.

We visited nearly every store that carried ladies’ dresses, and my mother tried on dress after dress, rejecting them all. As the day wore on, I grew weary and my mother grew frustrated.

Finally, at our last stop, my mother tried on a lovely blue three-piece dress. The blouse had a bow at the neckline, and as I stood in the dressing room with her, I watched as she tried, with much difficulty, to tie the bow. Her hands were so badly crippled from arthritis that she couldn’t do it. Immediately, my impatience gave way to an overwhelming wave of compassion for her. I turned away to try and hide the tears that welled up involuntarily. Regaining my composure, I turned back to tie the bow for her. The dress was beautiful, and she bought it. Our shopping trip was over, but the event was etched indelibly in my memory.

For the rest of the day, my mind kept returning to that moment in the dressing room and to the vision of my mother’s hands trying to tie that bow. Those loving hands that had fed me, bathed me, dressed me, caressed and comforted me, and, most of all, prayed for me, were now touching me in the most remarkable manner.

Later in the evening, I went to my mother’s room, took her hands in mine, kissed them and, much to her surprise, told her that to me they were the most beautiful hands in the world.

I’m so grateful that God let me see with new eyes what a precious, priceless gift a loving, self-sacrificing mother is. I can only pray that some day my hands, and my heart, will have earned such a beauty of their own.

By Bev Hulsizer from Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Aubery and Nancy Mitchell

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
February 17, 1997

A young man was getting ready to graduate from 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 beautifully 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 of 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.

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

The Spirit and the Bride say COME! Come Lord Jesus

I was thinking this last sunday concerning the betrayals we sometimes suffer in this life. We sometimes see relationships and connections change when betrayals occur. I got to thinking of the betrayal that Jesus suffered, He was betrayed with a kiss. He was betrayed with denial, He was betrayed with those who fled and hid. He died with one disciple sticking it out to the very end.

I go back in my thinking to the Upper Room, when the last preparation of the disciples was laid out. When we consider Jesus breaking leadership concepts with the washing of feet! Jesus, at all costs and with great urgency set to prepare the disciples for the greatest challenge that the Upper Room set to prepare them for. When we consider scripture we see that this Upper Room was rented until Pentecost. It was a place of servanthood, of consternation, of betrayal, of…

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ChrisStevensLive

ImageThank you. I admire you. I appreciate you. These are such simple words to say, but few of us take time to say them. You and I have each been in that place where we needed a word of encouragement. Do you remember how it felt? Hopeless, fearful, and lonely. But someone was brave enough, someone loved you enough to speak life and courage into you when you most needed it.

I have several examples of times I needed to hear some encouragement.

Anytime I’ve had to make a huge decision, my wife has been there to believe in me more than I believed in myself. 

Once, during a very stressful time of work, I left the office early in the morning to go handle bus duty. When I returned, my 8-year-old son had used my label maker to print a note that said, “I love you have a nice…

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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
February 14, 2013

Once upon a time, a very strong woodcutter asked for a job in a timber merchant and he got it. The pay was really good and so was the work condition. For those reasons, the woodcutter was determined to do his best.

His boss gave him an axe and showed him the area where he supposed to work.

The first day, the woodcutter brought 18 trees.

“Congratulations,” the boss said. “Go on that way!”

Very motivated by the boss words, the woodcutter tried harder the next day, but he could only bring 15 trees. The third day he tried even harder, but he could only bring 10 trees. Day after day he was bringing less and less trees.

“I must be losing my strength”, the woodcutter thought. He went to the boss and apologized, saying that he could not understand what was going on.

“When was the last time you sharpened your axe?” the boss asked.

“Sharpen? I had no time to sharpen my axe. I have been very busy trying to cut trees…”

Author: Stephen Covey
  From: 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

 

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