Originally posted on Morning Story and Dilbert:


For most people, graduation is an exciting day – the culmination of years of hard work. My graduation day… was not.

I remember that weekend two years ago. Family and friends had flown in from across the country to watch our class walk across that stage. But like everyone else in my graduating class, I had watched the economy turn from bad to worse my senior year. We graduates had degrees, but very limited prospects. Numerous applications had not panned out and I knew that the next day, when my lease ended, I would no longer have a place to call home.

The weeks ahead weren’t easy. I gathered up everything I couldn’t carry and put it into storage. Then, because I knew my small university town couldn’t offer me any opportunities, I packed up my car and drove to Southern California to find work. But what I thought would…

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You may need a happy Kleenex…

Originally posted on Morning Story and Dilbert:


This was the last litter of puppies we were going to allow our Cocker Spaniel to have. It had been a very long night for me. Precious, our only black cocker, was having a very difficult time with the delivery of her puppies.

I laid on the floor beside her large four-foot square cage, watching her every movement. Watching and waiting just in case we had to rush her to the veterinarian.

After six hours the puppies started to appear. The first born was a black and white party dog. The second and third puppies were tan and brown in color. The fourth and fifth were also spotted black and white. “One, two, three, four, five,” I counted to myself as I walked down the hallway to wake up Judy and tell her that everything was fine. As we walked back down the hallway and into the spare bedroom, I…

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Originally posted on Morning Story and Dilbert:

Vintage DilbertVintage Dilbert

Three guys were tried for crimes against humanity.
Two guys committed crimes.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys were given government trials.
Two guys had fair trials.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys were whipped and beaten.
Two guys had it coming.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys were given crosses to carry.
Two guys earned their crosses.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys were mocked and spit at along the way.
Two guys cursed and spit back.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys were nailed to crosses.
Two guys deserved it.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys talked while they were hung on their crosses.
Two guys argued.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys agonized over their abandonment.
Two guys had reason to be abandoned.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys knew death was coming.
Two guys resisted.
One guy didn’t.

Three guys died on three crosses.

Three days later.
Two guys remained…

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Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
August 1, 2001

A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife stayed at home.

He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed, “Dear Lord, I go to work every day and put in eight hours while my wife merely stays at home.”

“I want her to know what I go through, so please create a trade in our bodies.”

God, in His infinite wisdom, granted the man’s wish.

The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman.

He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches, drove them to school, came home and picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners and stopped at the bank to draw out money to pay the power bill and telephone bill, drove to the power company and the phone company and paid the bills, went grocery shopping, came home and put away the groceries. He cleaned the cat’s litter box and bathed the dog.

Then it was already 1:00 p.m. and he hurried to make the beds, do the laundry, vacuum, dust, and sweep and mop the kitchen floor. He ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the way home. He set out cookies and milk and got the kids organized to do their homework, then set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing.

At 4:30 PM he began peeling potatoes and washed greens for salads, breaded the chops and snapped fresh beans for supper.

After supper, he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed. At 9:00 PM he was exhausted and though his chores weren’t finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love, which he managed to get through without complaint.

The next morning, he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said, “Lord, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my wife’s being able to stay home all day. Please, O Lord please, let us trade back.”

The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, replied, “My son, I feel you have learned your lesson, and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were.”

“You’ll have to wait 9 months, though. You got pregnant last night..”

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

Originally posted on Morning Story and Dilbert:


Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the day I first saw Tommy. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders.

It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long.

I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts; but on that day. I was unprepared and my emotions flipped.

I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… Very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the “atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith course.

He constantly objected to, smirked…

View original 1,380 more words

Morning Story and Dilbert

Vintage Dilbert
August 10, 2010

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in
spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby
and crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the
baby alive, as we had no incubator. (We had no electricity to run an
incubator.) We also had no special feeding facilities.

Although we lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with
treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we had for such
babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to
stoke up the fire and to fill a hot water bottle.

She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle,
it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates. "And it is our
last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.

As in the West it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central
Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles.
They do not grow on trees, and there are no drug stores down forest

"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can, and
sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts."Your job
is to keep the baby warm." The following noon, as I did most days, I went
to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather
with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about
and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping
the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so
easily die if it got chilled.

I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had
died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the
usual blunt conciseness of our African children. "Please, God," she
prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the
baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon." While I gasped
inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary,
"And while You are about it, would You please send a dolly for the little
girl so she'll know You really love her?"

As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly
say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do this. Oh, yes, I
know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits,
aren't there?

The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending
me a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years
at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway,
if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I
lived on the equator!

Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching
in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at
my front door. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on
the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking
my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage
children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot.
We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly.

Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused
on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out brightly colored,
knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the
knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a
little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas-that would
make a nice batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in
again, I felt the.....could it really be?

I grasped it and pulled it out-yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle!
I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He
could. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward,
crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly,

Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small,
beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted.
Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this
dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"

That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my
former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's
prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the
girls had put in a dolly for an African child-five months before-in answer
to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."

He lets us set the limit...

 Author - Helen Roseveare
Helen Roseveare is a medical missionary and author
from England who served for years in the former Belgian Congo.


…have a great weekend!!!!! Kenny T

Originally posted on Morning Story and Dilbert:


There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. This was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful cup. They said, “May we see that? We’ve never seen one quite so beautiful.”

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the cup spoke. “You don’t understand,” it said. “I haven’t always been a teacup. There was a time when I was red and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, ‘let me alone,’ but he only smiled, ‘Not yet.'”

“Then I was placed on a spinning wheel,” the cup said,”and suddenly I was spun around and around and around.Stop it! I’m getting dizzy! I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, ‘Not yet.'”

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