ENJOY LIFE NOW - IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE!

This is a story of an aging couple told by their son who was President of NBC  NEWS.  This is a wonderful piece by Michael Gartner, editor of newspapers large and small and president of NBC News. In 1997, he won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing. It is well worth reading, and a few good chuckles are guaranteed. Here goes...     My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car.  He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.  "In those days," he told me when he was in his 90s, "to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it."     At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in:  "Oh, ######!" she said. "He hit a horse."       "Well," my father said, "there was that, too."       So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941Dodge, the Van Laninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.       My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines , would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together.       My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. "No one in the family drives," my mother would explain, and that was that.      But, sometimes, my father would say, "But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one." It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.       But, sure enough , my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at a Chevy dealership downtown.      It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.       Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make sense to my mother.   So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive. She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. "Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?" I remember him saying more than once.   For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.       Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.  (Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)       He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustan Church.  She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home.  If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests "Father Fast" and "Father Slow."       After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: "The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored."       If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, "Do you want to know the secret of a long life?"       "I guess so," I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.       "No left turns," he said.       "What?" I asked       "No left turns," he repeated. "Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic.   As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn."       "What?" I said again.       "No left turns," he said. "Think about it.. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer.  So we always make three rights."       "You're kidding!" I said, and I turned to my mother for support.     "No," she said, "your father is right. We make three rights. It works."  But then she added: "Except when your father loses count."     I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.  "Loses count?" I asked.     "Yes," my father admitted, "that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again."     I couldn't resist. "Do you ever go for 11?" I asked.     "No," he said " If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day.  Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week." My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.  She lived four more years, until 2003.. My father died the next year, at 102.     They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000. (Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.)     He continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.     One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news.     A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, "You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred." At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, "You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer."     "You're probably right," I said.     "Why would you say that?" He countered, somewhat irritated.     "Because you're 102 years old," I said..     "Yes," he said, "you're right." He stayed in bed all the next day.  That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.     He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said: "I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet"  An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:  "I want you to know," he said, clearly and lucidly, "that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have."   A short time later, he died.     I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long.  I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life, Or because he quit taking left turns. "     Life is too short to wake up with regrets.         So love the people who treat you right.         Forget about the ones who don't.         Believe everything happens for a reason.         If you get a chance, take it & if it changes your life, let it.  Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it." ENJOY LIFE NOW - IT HAS AN EXPIRATION DATE!

 

Twas the Month before Christmas

 Twas the month before Christmas

When all through our land,
...
Not a Christian was praying

Nor taking a stand.

See the PC Police had taken away

The reason for Christmas - no one could say.

The children were told by their schools not to sing

About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.

It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say

December 25th is just a ' Holiday '.

Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit

Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it!

CDs from Madonna, an X BOX, an I-Pod

Something was changing, something quite odd!

Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa

In hopes to sell books by Franken & Fonda.

As Targets were hanging their trees upside down

At Lowe's the word Christmas - was no where to be found.

At K-Mart and Staples and Penny's and Sears

You won't hear the word Christmas; it won't touch your ears.

Inclusive, sensitive, Di-ver-si-ty

Are words that were used to intimidate me.

Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen

On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton !

At the top of the Senate, there arose such a clatter

To eliminate Jesus, in all public matter.

And we spoke not a word, as they took away our faith

Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace

The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded

The reason for the season, stopped before it started.

So as you celebrate 'Winter Break' under your 'Dream Tree'

Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.

Choose your words carefully, choose what you say

Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS ,

not Happy Holiday !

Please, all Christians join together and

wish everyone you meet

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Christ is The Reason' for the Christ-mas Season!

If you agree please forward, if not, simply delete.

Do We Have a Guardian Angel?

Do We Have a Guardian Angel?

Greg Laurie

Do we have guardian angels—personal angels who hang out with us and go where we go? I don’t know for certain, but I do know that as believers, we have angels in our lives. Every Christian does.
The Bible clearly teaches, “The angel of the Lord encamps all around those who fear Him, and delivers them” (Psalm 34:7). Psalm 91:11 tells us, “For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. And Hebrews 1:14 says of angels, “Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister for those who will inherit salvation?” Also in Hebrews, we read that “some have unwittingly entertained angels” (13:2). That is an interesting thought, isn’t it? Maybe you have met an angel. If you have, you probably wouldn’t know it. I doubt that an angel would tell you he is an angel. (By the way, when we read about angelic appearances in the Bible, angels always appear as males.)
No one can say for certain whether we have guardian angels, but something Jesus said would imply that perhaps children have guardian angels. He said, “Take heed that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that in heaven their angels always see the face of My Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 18:10). This is reassuring, knowing how easily children can get themselves into trouble. But even if they don’t have a personalized angel, we can know that angels are involved in their lives.
And angels are involved in the lives of Christians. We have angelic activity around us every day. Angels are at work in our lives, protecting us, guiding us, and sometimes even speaking to us. But they work undercover. We could describe them as God’s secret agents.

Taken from “Waiting for Answers to Prayer” by In Touch Ministries (used by permission).

Cab Ride

The following is an email I received from a friend...


Cab Ride

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I walked to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice.. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

 After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned
on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

 By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

 There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

 'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

 She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

 She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

 'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

 'It's not the shortest way,' I answered  quickly..

 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.

 I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice.. 'The doctor says I don't have very
long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

 For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

 We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived
when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

 Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

 As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.  Let's go now'.

 We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were Solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

 I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

 'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

 'Nothing,' I said

 'You have to make a living,' she answered.

 'There are other passengers,'  I responded.

 Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

 I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..

 I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had
gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

 On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

 We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments..

 But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a  small one.


PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.


You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to ten people. But,
you might help make the world a little kinder and more compassionate by sending. it on and reminding us that often it is the random acts of kindness that most benefit all of us.

 Thank you, my friend...


Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

Depression And It's Pain

Depression And It's Pain

Depression has become our nation's number one emotional illness, and it is increasing steadily. Rising suicide rates, especially among the young, show the final end to which depression takes people. Broken, unhappy homes and wasted lives are often the result of unfettered depression. Some depression is good because it tells us we need to stop and take stock, have a rest, or perhaps have a physical examination to see if there is a medical problem that needs to be cared for.

God’s saints accomplish great things while staggering around in dazed bewilderment. ‘By faith,’ says Scripture, ‘Abraham, ... went out, not knowing whither he went.’ (Hebrews 11:8 – emphasis mine) ‘I go bound in the Spirit to Jerusalem,’ said Paul, ‘not knowing the things that shall befall me there.’ (Acts 20:22 – emphasis mine) The disciples were frequently stunned or mystified by Christ’s words and behavior. The psalmists were forever asking, ‘Why?’(Eg. Psalm 10:1; 22:1; 42:9; 43:2; 44:23; 74:1; 88:14) And in the midst of his suffering, Job didn’t have a clue what was going on.

The reason you are so depressed is because of the thoughts you are thinking.   The thoughts came faster than a parading machine gun and they were destructive, debilitating, and down right mean. Every day, I was beating myself down. I was saying words to myself that Id never let another person get away with. Yet they were able to sneak into my sub-conscious mind day after day.

I did not write this..

I just wanted to share it

There are a lot of Christians that are depressed

The saints in the Bible went through the sames things

Read the scripture and think on them..

http://proverbs31wifes.spruz.com/pt/Depression-And-Its-Pain/blog.htm

♥ My Mom made me laugh... wiped my tears... hugged me tight... watched me succeed... saw me fall... cheered me on... kept me going strong... and drove me a little crazy at times! ♥ My Mom lost her battle with Multiple Myeloma Cancer in 2009. I have many cherished memories of time spent with my Mom. If you still have the joy of your Mother’s company, HUG her… tell her how much you love her and spend as much time as you can with her. 

A Dream or a Visit?

Several days ago, Kaylan was telling me about one of the dreams that she had the previous night. In the dream, she saw her Grandma (my mom). With Grandma was a little girl who had blonde hair. This little girl looked to be 12-13 years of age. Kaylan said that she asked Grandma who the little girl was, and was told that this was her baby sister.

I've tried to verify the information with Kaylan as I typed this up.. she has no memory of telling me this. When she initially told me the dream, she had only JUST awoken.

Was this a dream?  Did she really see my Mom? Is the little girl the baby that was lost in the Ectopic pregnancy?

My mother wanted more grandchildren. It helps soothe my heart (a tiny bit) thinking that perhaps she is finally able to spend time with the grandchild that was lost such a long time ago.