When I'm Old And I Live With My Kids!

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with each kid,
and bring so much happiness, just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they've provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)
I'll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,
and I'll bounce on the furniture wearing my shoes.
I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)
When they're on the phone and just out of reach,
I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,
and when that is done, I'll hide under the bed!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)
I'll sit close to the TV, I'll click through the channels,
I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I'll take off my socks and throw one away,
and play in the mud till the end of the day!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)
When they cook dinner and call me to eat,
I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,
I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
and when they get angry, I'll run...if I'm able!

(When I'm an old lady and live with my kids.)
And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,
I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
and say with a groan, "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!

~ author unknown ~

Source: Internet

Seeds Of Kindness

Scatter seeds of kindness
everywhere you go;

Scatter bits of courtesy and
watch them grow and grow.

Gather buds of friendship;
Keep them till full-blown;

You will find more happiness
than you have ever known.

Source: Internet

Life Is A Journey

 Life is a journey through many terrain
From gardens of pleasure to deserts of pain
From an ocean of love to a jungle of hate
From mountains of glory to canyons of fate

There's a highway for joy and a highway for sorrow
A road for today and a road for tomorrow
So choose your path wisely and walk with care
If you follow your heart, you'll find your way there

I've been to the garden and planted seeds there
I've been to the desert and felt the despair
I've swam in the ocean and drank of it's wine

I climbed up the mountain to touch the sky
I went to the canyon and started to cry
I've traveled both highways,
 Both today and tomorrow
I've basked in the joy and wallowed in sorrow

My path has been chosen and
I've walked it with care
 I followed my heart and I'm on my way there
So I'll just keep walking till I find what I'm after
To mountains and oceans and
Gardens of laughter.

~ Author Unknown ~

Source: Internet

The Blind Men and The Elephant

A long time ago in the valley of the Brahmaputra River in India there lived six men who were much inclined to boast of their wit and lore. Though they were no longer young and had all been blind since birth, they would compete with each other to see who could tell the tallest story.

One day, however, they fell to arguing. The object of their dispute was the elephant. Now, since each was blind, none had ever seen that mighty beast of whom so many tales are told. So, to satisfy their minds and settle the dispute, they decided to go and seek out an elephant.

Having hired a young guide, Dookiram by name, they set out early one morning in single file along the forest track, each placing his hands on the back of the man in front. It was not long before they came to a forest clearing where a huge bull elephant, quite tame, was standing contemplating his menu for the day.

The six blind men became quite excited; at last they would satisfy their minds. Thus it was that the men took turns to investigate the elephant’s shape and form.

As all six men were blind, neither of them could see the whole elephant and approached the elephant from different directions. After encountering the elephant, each man proclaimed in turn:

“O my brothers,” the first man at once cried out, “it is as sure as I am wise that this elephant is like a great mud wall baked hard in the sun.”

“Now, my brothers,” the second man exclaimed with a cry of dawning recognition, “I can tell you what shape this elephant is – he is exactly like a spear.”

The others smiled in disbelief.

“Why, dear brothers, do you not see,” said the third man, “this elephant is very much like a rope,” he shouted.

“Ha, I thought as much,” the fourth man declared excitedly, “this elephant much resembles a serpent.”
The others snorted their contempt.

“Good gracious, brothers,” the fifth man called out, “even a blind man can see what shape the elephant resembles most. Why he’s mightily like a fan.”

At last, it was the turn of the sixth old fellow and he proclaimed, “This sturdy pillar, brothers, mine, feels exactly like the trunk of a great areca palm tree.”

Of course, no one believed him.

Their curiosity satisfied, they all linked hands and followed the guide, Dookiram, back to the village. Once there, seated beneath a waving palm, the six blind men began disputing loud and long. Each now had his own opinion, firmly based on his own experience, of what an elephant is really like. For after all, each had felt the elephant for himself and knew that he was right!

And so indeed he was. For depending on how the elephant is seen, each blind man was partly right, though all were in the wrong.

Submitted by Camilia
Riordan, 1986, pp. 30-33

An ancient and well known fable from India.
What do the blind men have to teach us?

Source: Internet

Grandma's Is Surfing The Internet

 Grandma used to make us cherry pies
And call us on the phone
She would talk to us for hours;
Now she leaves us all alone.
We miss her homemade biscuits
And I'll make this little bet -
If you want to contact Grandma,
You'll have to surf the net.

Grandma's surfin' the net,
We've been calling her all morning
And we haven't got her yet
She's on her e-mail network
With her electronic friends
If you want to talk to Grandma,
 You'll have to surf the net.

Grandma's never surfed at Malibu
Or caught a wave at Waikiki
She's never seen a surf board;
Hang ten doesn't mean a thing.
She's never met a beach bum;
To her Moon Doggie is just a pup
But when she heads to her computer,
You know the surf is up.

Grandma's getting older
And her eyes are getting dim
Her random access memory
 Is half of what it's been
When St. Peter comes to call,
She'll say I can't go yet
He'll just have to wait on Grandma,
'Cause Grandma's surfin' the net.

Source: Internet

A Fragile Thing

Life is a very fragile thing
It passes by so fast
We need to live each day with faith
And make each moment last.

Life is a very fragile thing
A blessing and a care
So let us treasure it with love
And cherish it with prayer.

Life is a very fragile thing
God holds it in His hand
And when the time for us has come
He'll help us understand.

~ Hope C. Oberhelman 

Source: Internet

The Difference Between Women & Men

RELATIONSHIPS:

When a relationship ends, a woman will cry and pour her heart out to her girlfriends, and she will write a poem titled 'All Men Are Idiots' Then she will get on with her life.

A man has a little more trouble letting go. Six months after the breakup, at 3:00 a.m. on a Saturday night, he will call and say, 'I just called to let you know you ruined my life, and I'll never forgive you, and I hate you, and you're a total floozy. But, I want you to know that there's always a chance for us.' 

MATURITY:

Women mature much faster than men. Most 17-year old females can function as adults.

Most 17-year old males are still trading baseball cards and giving each other wedgies after gym class. This is why high school romances rarely work out. 

BATHROOMS:

A man has five items in his bathroom - a toothbrush, shaving cream, razor, a bar of Dial soap, and a towel from the Holiday Inn. 

The average number of items in the typical woman's bathroom is 437. A man would not be able to identify most of the items. 

GROCERIES:

A woman makes a list of things she needs and then goes out to the store and buys these things. 

A man waits till the only items left in his fridge are half a lime and a beer. Then he goes grocery shopping. He buys everything that looks good. By the time a man reaches the checkout counter, his cart is packed tighter than the Clampett's car on Beverly Hillbillies. Of course, this will not stop him from going to the 10-items-or- less lane. 

OFFSPRING:

Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children. She knows about dentist appointments and soccer games and romances and best friends and favorite foods and secret fears and hopes and dreams. 

A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.

DRESSING UP:

A woman will dress up to: go shopping, water the plants, empty the garbage, answer the phone, read a book, get the mail. 

A man will dress up for weddings and funerals. 

LAUNDRY:

Women do laundry every couple of days.

A man will wear every article of clothing he owns, including his surgical pants that were hip about eight years ago, before he will do his laundry. When he is finally out of clothes,
he will wear a dirty sweatshirt inside out, rent a U-Haul and take his mountain of clothes to the Laundromat. 

TOYS:

Little girls love to play with toys. Then when they reach the age of 11 or 12, they lose interest.

Men never grow out of their obsession with toys. As they get older, their toys simply become more expensive and silly and impractical. Examples of men's toys: little miniature TV's. Complicated juicers and blenders. Graphic equalizers. Small robots that serve cocktails on command. Video games. Anything that blinks, beeps, and requires at least six 'D' batteries to operate.

TIME:

When a woman says she'll be ready to go out in five more minutes, she's using the same meaning of time as when  a man says the football game just has five minutes left.
Neither of them is counting time outs, commercials, or replays. 

FRIENDS:

Women on a girl's night out talk the whole time. 

Men on a boy's night out say about twenty words all night, most of which are 'Pass the Doritos' or Got anymore drink?' 

RESTROOMS:

Men use restrooms for purely biological reasons. Women use restrooms as social lounges.
Men in a restroom will never speak a word to each other. Women who've never met will leave a restroom giggling  together like old friends. And never in the history of the world has a  man excused himself from a restaurant table by saying, 'Hey, Tom, I was just about to go to the bathroom.  Do you want to join me?'

Source: Internet

Legend Of The Butterfly

The Legend of the Butterfly

Once as a child many years ago...
On a balmy summer's eve.
I sat in the yard at my Mother's side...
and a butterfly lit at my sleeve.

"It's a sign of good luck, my Mother said.
As the butterfly stayed at my arm...
"It's a symbol of all the beauty in life.
Make sure you do it no harm."

First butterflies are eggs and after they hatch...
they see that their life's just beginning,
They're content  with  their lot in life,
so they go out on a limb and start spinning.

They stay out awhile in a magic cocoon...
then emerge like flowers in spring,
Then they share the story of their victory and success...
through each of the colors of their wings.

The gold in their wings is the " Golden Rule"....
To follow that is a must.
The blue....That means  true blue.
Always  be someone people can  trust.

The green of the tip of their wing
is saying Stay  green, and you'll always grow.
The silver is the lining in the clouds of doubt...
that you must look for as for as through your life you go.

Butterflies bend with the wind, it's true,
Still they get where they want to go.
They arrive by persistence through their own insistence
A lesson more people should know.

~ author unknown ~

May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun
And find your shoulder to light on,
To bring you luck, happiness and riches
Today, tomorrow and beyond

Source: Internet

The Alphabet Of Happiness

The Alphabet:
A – ACCEPT	Accept others for who they are and for the choices they’ve made even if you have difficulty understanding their beliefs, motives, or actions.
B – BREAK AWAY	Break away from everything that stands in the way of what you hope to accomplish with your life.
C – CREATE	Create a family of friends whom you can share your hopes, dreams, sorrows, and happiness with.
D – DECIDE	Decide that you’ll be successful and happy come what may, and good things will find you. The roadblocks are only minor obstacles along the way.
E – EXPLORE	Explore and experiment. The world has much to offer, and you have much to give. And every time you try something new, you’ll learn more about yourself.
F – FORGIVE	Forgive and forget. Grudges only weigh you down and inspire unhappiness and grief. Soar above it, and remember that everyone makes mistakes.
G – GROW	Leave the childhood monsters behind. They can no longer hurt you or stand in your way.
H – HOPE	Hope for the best and never forget that anything is possible as long as you remain dedicated to the task.
I – IGNORE	Ignore the negative voice inside your head. Focus instead on your goals and remember your accomplishments. Your past success is only a small inkling of what the future holds.
J – JOURNEY	Journey to new worlds, new possibilities, by remaining open-minded. Try to learn something new every day, an you’ll grow.
K – KNOW	Know that no matter how bad things seem, they’ll always get better. The warmth of spring always follows the harshest winter.
L – LOVE	Let love fill your heart instead of hate. When hate is in your heart, there’s room for nothing else, but when love is in your heart, there’s room for endless happiness.
M – MANAGE	Manage your time and your expenses wisely, and you’ll suffer less stress and worry. Then you’ll be able to focus on the important things in life.
N – NOTICE	Never ignore the poor, infirm, helpless, weak, or suffering. Offer your assistance when possible, and always your kindness and understanding.
O – OPEN	Open your eyes and take in all the beauty around you. Even during the worst of times, there’s still much to be thankful for.
P – PLAY	Never forget to have fun along the way. Success means nothing without happiness.
Q – QUESTION	Ask many questions, because you’re here to learn.
R – RELAX	Refuse to let worry and stress rule your life, and remember that things always have a way of working out in the end.
S – SHARE	Share your talent, skills, knowledge, and time with others. Everything that you invest in others will return to you many times over.
T – TRY	Even when your dreams seem impossible to reach, try anyway. You’ll be amazed by what you can accomplish.
U – USE	Use your gifts to your best ability. Talent that’s wasted has no value. Talent that’s used bill bring unexpected rewards.
V – VALUE	Value the friends and family members who’ve supported and encouraged you, and be there for them as well.
W – WORK	Work hard every day to be the best person you can be, but never feel guilty if you fall short of your goals. Every sunrise offers a second chance.
X – X-RAY	Look deep inside the hearts of those around you and you’ll see the goodness and beauty within.
Y – YIELD	Yield to commitment. If you stay on track and remain dedicated, you’ll find success at the end of the road.
Z – ZOOM	Zoom to a happy place when bad memories or sorrow rears its ugly head. Let nothing interfere with your goals. Instead, focus on your abilities, your dreams, and a brighter tomorrow.

Catching Pigs

There was a chemistry professor in a large college that had some exchange students in the class.

One day while the class was in the lab, the Prof noticed one young man, an exchange student, who kept rubbing his back and stretching as if his back hurt.

The professor asked the young man what was the matter.

The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting communists in his native country who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new communist regime.

In the midst of his story, he looked at the professor and asked a strange question. He asked: "Do you know how to catch wild pigs?"

The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said that it was no joke.

"You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground.

The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn.  When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming.

When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence.

They get used to that and start to eat again.

You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side.

The pigs, which are used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat that free corn again.

You then slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd.

Suddenly the wild pigs have lost their freedom.

They run around and around inside the fence, but they are caught.

Soon they go back to eating the free corn.  They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity."

The young man then told the professor that is exactly what he sees happening in America.  The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/Socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tax exemptions, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops (CRP), welfare, medicine, drugs, etc. while we continually lose our freedoms, just a little at a time.

One should always remember two truths:

1) There is no such thing as a free lunch, someone is paying for it

2) and when you begin to think that having your government

provide for you and make your decisions is ok, realize that you've also given up the freedom that goes with making your own choices.

If you see that all of this wonderful government 'help' is a problem confronting the future of democracy in America, you might want to send this on to your friends. 

If you think the free ride is essential to your way of life, then you will probably delete this email.

But God help you when the gate slams shut!

Source: Email

The Grass Cutting Days

 The pastor called me to come forward. I walked to the pulpit confident and proud. I looked out at my family. Some wore somber expressions. Others had faces still damp with tears. Then I gazed down at the shiny black coffin crowned with yellow flowers.

My father, Charlie Lyons, was gone. It was my turn at his funeral earlier this year to pay tribute to the man who taught me so much growing up on the Northside. How do you sum up a lifetime in 10 minutes?

I flashed to Dad holding the handlebar and jogging alongside my bike until I felt ready to ride on my own. I saw him pulling up to my broken-down car at night, doing a quick fix and trailing me home. I thought of the hug we shared at my wedding.

Then, I started talking about a special moment I draw from now. Dad was always full of advice, but one of the biggest lessons he taught me one summer was about having a strong work ethic. When my brother and I were growing up, we mowed yards during the summer to earn pocket change. Dad was our salesman. He pitched our service to neighbors and offered a price they could not refuse. My brother and I got $10 per yard. Some yards were a half-acre. I later found out our friends were charging $20 or more for the same amount of work.

Every time we headed out to mow lawns, Dad was there to watch. I used to wonder why he came with us. He stood supervising our work in the sticky Florida heat when he could have been inside relaxing with air conditioning and an icy drink.

One day we were cutting our next-door neighbor’s yard. She always waited until the grass was knee-high to call us over. To make matters worse, we had an old lawn mower that kept cutting off as we plowed through her backyard jungle. This particular afternoon, I was finishing up and was tired and sweaty. I pictured the tall glass of Kool-Aid I would gulp in a minute to cool down.

I was just about to cut off the lawn mower when I saw Dad pointing to one lone blade. I thought about the chump change I was getting paid for cutting grass so high it almost broke the mower. I ignored him and kept walking. Dad called me out and yelled, “You missed a piece.”

I frowned, hoping he would let me slide and go home. He kept pointing. So beat and deflated, I went back to cut that piece of grass. I mumbled to myself: “That one piece isn’t hurting anyone. Why won’t he just let it go?”

But when I reached adulthood, I understood his message: When you’re running a business, the work you do says a great deal about you. If you want to be seen as an entrepreneur with integrity, you must deliver a quality product. That single blade of grass meant the job was not done.

Other neighbors took notice of the good work we did and we soon garnered more business. We started out with one client, but by the end of the summer we had five, which was all we cared to handle because we wanted time to enjoy our summer break from school.

The lesson my dad taught me stayed with me: Be professional. If you say you are going to perform a job at a certain time, keep your word. Give your customers the kind of service you would like to receive. It shows how sincere you are and how much pride you take in your work.

Before I knew it, my tribute was over. I saw my wife jump to her feet in an ovation. The pastor embraced me. People rushed to shake my hand. Though Dad’s body lay inside the coffin, I felt his spirit there. I pictured him standing in the sanctuary, wearing the white T-shirt and blue shorts he did on grass-cutting days. Always there for me and always proud.

By Patrick A. Lyons

Daddy Hands

I awoke in the night to find my husband, Marty, gently rocking our baby son, Noah.

I stood for a moment in the doorway, watching this amazing man with whom I was so blessed to share my life, lovingly stroke Noah’s fat pink cheeks in an effort to comfort him.

I felt in my heart that something was seriously wrong with Noah. This was one of several nights Noah had been up, burning with a high fever.

Tears filled my eyes as I watched my beautiful husband move Noah’s little cheek up against his own chest, so that Noah could feel the vibrations of his voice. Noah is deaf. Learning to comfort him has brought on a whole new way of thinking for us. We relied on our voices, a soothing lullaby, audio toys, and music to comfort our other children. But with Noah, we need to use touch, his soft blankie, sight, the feel of our voices, and most importantly, the use of sign language to communicate emotions and a sense of comfort to him. My husband made the sign for “I love you” with his hand and I saw a tear roll down his cheek as he placed Noah’s tiny, weak hand on top of his.

We had taken Noah to the doctor more times than I can remember. It had been a week and a half and Noah’s fever remained very high and very dangerous, despite everything the doctor or we had tried. I knew in my soul the way only a mother can know, that Noah was in trouble.

I gently touched my husband’s shoulder and we looked into each other’s eyes with the same fear and knowledge that Noah’s wasn’t getting any better. I offered to take over for him, but he shook his head, and once again, I was amazed at this wonderful man who is the father of my children. When many fathers would have gladly handed over the parenting duties for some much needed sleep, my husband stayed stubbornly and resolutely with our child.

When morning finally came, we called the doctor and were told to bring him in again. We already knew that he would probably put Noah in the hospital. So, we made arrangements for the other children, packed bags for all three of us, and tearfully drove to the doctor’s office once again. Our hearts filled with dread, we waited in a small room, different from the usual examining room we had become used to. Our doctor finally came in, looked Noah over, and told us the news we expected. Noah had to be admitted to the hospital. Now.

The drive to the hospital in a neighboring town seemed surreal. I couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t think, couldn’t stop crying. My husband reassured me that he felt in his heart that Noah would be okay. We admitted Noah and were taken to his room right away. It was a tortuous night, filled with horrible tests that made my son’s tiny little voice echo through the halls as he screamed over and over.
I felt as if I were shattering from the inside out. My husband never wavered in his faith. He comforted me and Noah, and everyone who called to check on Noah. He was a rock.

When the first batch of tests were done, the nurse informed us that a spinal tap would be performed soon. Meningitis was suspected. Marty and I had prayer together with Noah. Our hands intertwined, we held our son and the love of my life lifted his voice to the Lord, telling him how grateful we were for this awesome little spirit with whom he had entrusted us. With tears streaming down his face, he humbly asked the Lord to heal our son. My heart filled with comfort and gratitude.

A short time later, the resident doctor came in. He told us that Noah’s first results were back, and that he had Influenza A. No spinal tap was needed! Noah would recover and soon be back to his zesty, tornado little self. And Noah was already standing up in the hospital crib, bouncing like he was on a trampoline. My husband’s talk with the Lord was already being answered.

Marty and I grinned at each other through our tears, and waited for Noah to be released from the hospital. Finally, in the middle of the night, our own doctor came in and told us that it was fine to take Noah home. We couldn’t pack fast enough!

A few days later, I was cooking dinner. Noah was healing, slowly but surely. I felt at peace and knew my husband was the greatest father I could ever want for my children. I peeked around the corner into the living room, and chuckled at the picture I saw. There was my husband, sitting in his “daddy chair”, Noah in his lap. They were reading a book, dad taking Noah’s teeny hands to help him form the signs for the words in the book. They both looked up and caught me watching them, and my husband and I simultaneously signed “I love you” to each other, then to Noah. And then Noah put his little arm up, trying to shape his tiny hand in his own effort to sign “I love you” to his daddy. I watched with tears as my husband carefully helped him form his tiny fingers into the sign with his own gentle hands. Daddy hands.

By Susan Fahncke

“Four Special Chaplains”

By George E Williams

Four men brought together by World War Two,
Their religious beliefs they continued to pursue.
As Army Chaplains they continued their careers,
They served with many G. I. volunteers.

The USAT Dorchester sailed for foreign shores in 1943,
And sailed across the North Atlantic Sea.
It was a bleak and freezing winter scene,
And the many dangers were yet unseen.

The Four Courageous Army Chaplains were aboard,
Four very dedicated servants of the Lord.
One Catholic, Two Protestants and a Jew,
The Army GIs and the transport ship’s crew.

February 3rd 1943 is etched in history for all to see,
A day many American Servicemen died unfortunately.
A torpedo from a German sub would sink that ship,
Soon beneath the icy waves it would slip.

GIs searched the ship for life jackets everywhere,
Searching for life preservers they could wear.
There was few to be found they soon learned,
Just one life jacket was what they yearned.

The Four Chaplains seeing the GI’s plight,
Began to do what they felt was right.
One by one the Chaplains’ life jackets came off,
Which four U.S. soldiers soon would doff.

Arm in arm they were last seen singing out loud,
Four Chaplains were standing tall and so very proud.
The last of them the world would ever see,
Then the Dorchester slipped beneath the sea.

Their self sacrifices and courage lives on in us today,
It is alive with every Four Chaplains honor we display.
Cooperation and selfless service is what we tout,
The reason every award in their names is handed out.

Finding a worthy recipient for such a honorable award,
Should be every Chapel members just reward.
The Four Chaplains’ great courage all the world to see,
Heroic deeds never to be forgotten is now left up to you and me.

February 7, 1954 ~ President Dwight D. Eisenhower

“And we remember that, only a decade ago, aboard the transport
Dorchester, four chaplains of four faiths together willingly
sacrificed their lives so that four others might live. In the three
centuries that separate the Pilgrims of the Mayflower from the
Chaplains of the Dorchester, America’s freedom, her courage, her
strength, and her progress have had their foundation in faith.
Today as then, there is need for positive acts of renewed
recognition that faith is our surest strength, our greatest resource."

Source: Internet

The "Candy Bomber"

One of the many American pilots to fly the USAF C-54 Skymaster during the Berlin Airlift of 1948-49 ("Operation Vittles") was Colonel Gail S. Halvorsen of Provo, Utah. During the operation he became known as the "Candy Bomber" because he repeatedly dropped candy to German children from his aircraft on approach to the runways.

The idea grew out of a chance meeting between Halvorsen and several German school children at the perimeter fence of Tempelhof Airport. While waiting for his aircraft to be unloaded one day he decided to walk to the end of the runway and photograph other C-54s making their landing approach to the runway, a tricky descent over several buildings outside the Tempelhof grounds.

While standing at the barbed wire fence he struck up a conversation with the German children gathered outside to watch the giant airplanes land. The hungry children asked if Halvorsen had any gum or candy, and he eagerly gave them two pieces of gum that he happened to be carrying in his pocket. He promised to bring them more gum and candy on his next flight into the airport, saying that he would drop it to them as he passed over them while landing. When asked how they would known which of the huge airplanes was his, he said he would "wiggle his wings" as he approached their position.

True to his word, on his next mission to Tempelhof Airport, on final approach to the runway Halvorsen "wiggled his wings" and had the Flight Engineer push three bundles of sweets through the flare chute on the C-54 flightdeck. (Halvorsen had gathered the candy by talking other pilots into donating their Candy Ration Cards to the effort.) The three small parcels floated down on tiny, homemade handkerchief parachutes, but Halvorsen could not see whether the children caught the packages due to the business of landing. Later, as he taxied the empty C-54 to the end of the runway to depart the airfield, he looked to the crowd of children at the fence. Three white handkerchiefs waved back at him enthusiastically!

Over the next few weeks Halvorsen repeated the airdrops to an ever-growing audience of German children at the fence. Soon he even began to receive letters at the airport, addressed simply to "Uncle Wiggly Wings -- Tempelhof," requesting special airdrops at other locations within the city! Local newspapers picked up the story and his fame began to spread. Back at his home base Halvorsen began to receive mail from other pilots who wanted to help. Candy was donated, handkerchief parachutes were made by volunteers, and the tiny parcels began to fall all over Berlin.

On a brief trip back to the United States Halvorsen was asked by an interviewer what he needed to continue his popular "Candy Bomber" operation. He jokingly remarked "boxcars full of candy!" Sure enough, shortly after his return to Germany a traincar loaded with 3,000 pounds of chocolate bars arrived for "Uncle Wiggly Wings."

Thousands of pounds of candy continued to arrive from the United States to support the airdrops. Other pilots volunteered to drop the packages of sweets across the city. After several letters were received from East Berlin "Uncle Wiggly Wings" even made a few drops to school yards there, angering Soviet officials for the "attempted subversion of young minds." When asked about it Halvorsen commented "kids are kids everywhere." He even mailed packages of candy to disappointed children who wrote to say they had never been able to reach the "sweet gifts from the sky" before others got all the loot. No one was to be missed by Utah's "Candy Bomber."

"There's No Charge For Love."

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups, and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard.

As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt tug on his overalls.

He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.

“Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”

“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat of the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”
“Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. “Here Dolly!” he called.

Out from the doghouse and down ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed
something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up….

“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would.”

With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe.

Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”

With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully he handed it to the little boy.

“How much?” asked the little boy.

“No charge,” answered the farmer, “There’s no charge for love.”

Source: Internet

A Sister's Helping Hand

A Sister's Helping Hand

Who can measure the special bond of twins?

by Nancy Sheehan

Reader's Digest - May 1996
Pages 155-156

Condensed from Worcester Telegram & Gazette
November 18, 1995

Heidi and Paul Jackson's twin girls, Brielle and Kyrie, were born October 17, 1995, 12 weeks ahead of their due date. Standard hospital practice is to place preemie twins in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. That was done for the Jackson girls in the neonatal intensive care unit at The Medical Center of Central Massachusetts in Worcester.

Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds, three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly sleeping her newborn days away. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, couldn't keep up with her. She had breathing and heart-rate problems. The oxygen level in her blood was low, and her weight gain was slow.

Suddenly, on November 12, Brielle went into critical condition. She began gasping for breath, and her face and stick-thin arms and legs turned bluish-gray. Her heart rate was way up, and she got hiccups, a dangerous sign that her body was under stress. Her parents watched, terrified that she might die.

Nurse Gayle Kasparian tried everything she could think of to stabilize Brielle. She suctioned her breathing passages and turned up the oxygen flow to the incubator. Still Brielle squirmed and fussed as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared.

Then Kasparian remembered something she had heard from a colleague. It was a procedure, common in parts of Europe but almost unheard of in this country, that called for double-bedding multiple-birth babies, especially preemies.

Kasparian's nurse manager, Susan Fitzback, was away at a conference, and the arrangement was unorthodox. But Kasparian decided to take the risk.

"Let me just try putting Brielle in with her sister to see if that helps," she said to the alarmed parents. "I don't know what else to do."

The Jacksons quickly gave the go-ahead, and Kasparian slipped the squirming baby into the incubator holding the sister she hadn't seen since birth. Then Kasparian and the Jacksons watched.

No sooner had the door of the incubator closed then Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie - and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle's blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling.

By coincidence, the conference Fitzback was attending included a presentation on double-bedding. This is something I want to see happen at The Medical Center, she thought. But it might be hard making the change. On her return she was doing rounds when the nurse caring for the twins that morning said, "Sue, take a look in that isolette over there."

"I can't believe this," Fitzback said. "This is so beautiful."

"You mean, we can do it?" asked the nurse.

"Of course we can," Fitzback replied.

Today a handful of institutions around the country are adopting double-bedding, which seems to reduce the number of hospital days. The practice is growing quickly, even though the first scientific studies on it didn't begin until this past January.

But Heidi and Paul Jackson don't need any studies to know that double-bedding helped Brielle. She is thriving. In fact, now that the two girls are home, they still steep together - and still snuggle.

Source: Internet

The Wall

A little history most people will never know.

Interesting Veterans Statistics off the Vietnam Memorial Wall

There are 58,267 names now listed on that polished black wall, including those added in 2010.

The names are arranged in the order in which they were taken from us by date and within each date the names are alphabetized. It is hard to believe it is 36 years since the last casualties.

The first known casualty was Richard B. Fitzgibbon, of North Weymouth , Mass. Listed by the U.S. Department of Defense as having been killed on June 8, 1956. His name is listed on the Wall with that of his son, Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Richard B. Fitzgibbon III, who was killed on Sept. 7, 1965.

There are three sets of fathers and sons on the Wall.

39,996 on the Wall were just 22 or younger.

8,283 were just 19 years old.

The largest age group, 33,103 were 18 years old.
12 soldiers on the Wall were 17 years old.

5 soldiers on the Wall were 16 years old.

One soldier, PFC Dan Bullock was 15 years old.

997 soldiers were killed on their first day in Vietnam ..

1,448 soldiers were killed on their last day in Vietnam ..

31 sets of brothers are on the Wall.

31 sets of parents lost two of their sons.

54 soldiers attended Thomas Edison High School in Philadelphia . I wonder why so many from one school.

8 Women are on the Wall. Nursing the wounded.

244 soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War; 153 of them are on the Wall.

Beallsville, Ohio with a population of 475 lost 6 of her sons. West Virginia had the highest casualty rate per capita in the nation. There are 711 West Virginians on the Wall.

The Marines of Morenci - They led some of the scrappiest high school football and basketball teams that the little Arizona copper town of Morenci (pop. 5,058) had ever known and cheered. They enjoyed roaring beer busts. In quieter moments, they rode horses along the Coronado Trail, stalked deer in the Apache National Forest. And in the patriotic camaraderie typical of Morenci's mining families, the nine graduates of Morenci High enlisted as a group in the Marine Corps. Their service began on Independence Day, 1966. Only 3 returned home.

The Buddies of Midvale - LeRoy Tafoya, Jimmy Martinez, Tom Gonzales were all boyhood friends and lived on three consecutive streets in Midvale, Utah on Fifth, Sixth and Seventh avenues. They lived only a few yards apart. They played ball at the adjacent sandlot ball field. And they all went to Vietnam. In a span of 16 dark days in late 1967, all three would be killed. LeRoy was killed on Wednesday, Nov. 22, the fourth anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination. Jimmy died less than 24 hours later on Thanksgiving Day. Tom was shot dead assaulting the enemy on Dec. 7, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day.

The most casualty deaths for a single day was on January 31, 1968 ~ 245 deaths.

The most casualty deaths for a single month was May 1968 - 2,415 casualties were incurred.

For most Americans who read this they will only see the numbers that the Vietnam War created. To those of us who survived the war, and to the families of those who did not, we see the faces, we feel the pain that these numbers created. We are, until we too pass away, haunted with these numbers, because they were our friends, fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters. There are no noble wars, just noble warriors.

Please share this with those who served during this time, and others who also Care.

Source: Email

The Story Of The Battle Hymn Of The Republic

The Story of the Battle Hymn of the Republic
Click here to watch video

As a result of their volunteer work with the Sanitary Commission, in November of 1861 Samuel and Julia Howe were invited to Washington by President Lincoln. The Howes visited a Union Army camp in Virginia across the Potomac. There, they heard the men singing the song which had been sung by both North and South, one in admiration of John Brown, one in celebration of his death: "John Brown's body lies a'mouldering in his grave."

A clergyman in the party, James Freeman Clarke, who knew of Julia's published poems, urged her to write a new song for the war effort to replace "John Brown's Body." She described the events later:

"I replied that I had often wished to do so.... In spite of the excitement of the day I went to bed and slept as usual, but awoke the next morning in the gray of the early dawn, and to my astonishment found that the wished-for lines were arranging themselves in my brain. I lay quite still until the last verse had completed itself in my thoughts, then hastily arose, saying to myself, I shall lose this if I don't write it down immediately. I searched for an old sheet of paper and an old stub of a pen which I had had the night before, and began to scrawl the lines almost without looking, as I learned to do by often scratching down verses in the darkened room when my little children were sleeping. Having completed this, I lay down again and fell asleep, but not before feeling that something of importance had happened to me."

The result was a poem, published first in February 1862 in the Atlantic Monthly, and called "Battle Hymn of the Republic." The poem was quickly put to the tune that had been used for "John Brown's Body" -- the original tune was written by a Southerner for religious revivals -- and became the best known Civil War song of the North.

Julia Ward Howe's religious conviction shows in the way that Old and New Testament Biblical images are used to urge that people implement, in this life and this world, the principles that they adhere to. "As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free." Turning from the idea that the war was revenge for the death of a martyr, Howe hoped that the song would keep the war focused on the principle of the ending of slavery.

Today, that's what Howe is most remembered for: as the author of the song, still loved by many Americans. Her early poems are forgotten -- her other social commitments forgotten. She became a much-loved American institution after that song was published -- but even in her own lifetime, all her other pursuits paled besides her accomplishment of one piece of poetry for which she was paid $5 by the editor of Atlantic Monthly.

Battle Hymn of the Republic
Click Here to watch the video

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an alter in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
“As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat:
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet;
Our God Is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free;
While God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! While God is marching on.

He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor to the brave;
So the world shall be his footstool, and the soul of wrong His
slave,
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

Source: One Man's View

Mom I'm Sorry

Shelby Carlson,

This is a poem my dad wrote awhile back. He did a great job and I couldn't be more proud to be his daughter.

Mom, I’m Sorry

Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to be this way,
We should have worked it out, You had the final say.
I hope I get to see you Mom, you’d really like my place,
Surely you would enjoy my company, share a warm embrace.
Mom I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have arrived so unexpected.
Perhaps if I’d shown up later we’d have better connected.
Under different circumstances Mom, if you’d allowed,
We could have succeeded, I’d have made you proud.
Mom, I’m sorry, I tormented your future, the dreams you had.
I thought I’d make you happy, instead I made you sad.
I was your first Mom, no older sister or brother;
Yet you rejected me, thankfully I was desired by another.

Mom, I’m sorry, I know you longed to be free.
What could I have done to change things? Adrift helplessly in an amniotic sea
I could feel my heart beat Mom, my fingers could make a fist, but
I couldn’t make you want me, our lives never to coexist.
Mom, I’m sorry, you never saw me crawl, walk or run.
Set off for school, play in the summer sun.
I know you’ve created memories Mom, memories of me.
Illusions in your mind, chosen by you, never to be.

Mom, I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.
Would you have accepted me had I been planned?
I had no control Mom, concerning my conception.
How can you say I’m not me? It’s a damning perception!
Mom, I’m sorry you asked me to leave that cold December day.
Don’t forget my birthday, it would have been the fifth of May.
You should see me now Mom, with so many sons and daughters just like me,
Cradled in my Lord’s arms, for all eternity.
I hope I get to see you Mom, you’d really like my place.
Surely you’d enjoy my company, share a warm embrace.

By: Dave Carlson

Source: One Man's View

Little Texas

Little Texas by David Baillie

A hoe and a plow, behind the south end of a Texas mule,
share-croppers son, one of nine bare foot children left behind,
all day long in the hot sun helping feed the younger ones,
just a lad of twelve not more , sitting hours on milk'n stool.

Socked with the depression, and not just the dollar bill, this son,
saw his bothers and sisters off each day to Church and school,
knew the golden rule, hard taught and honor bound , this son,
mother of them all passed to greater rewards, their only jewel.

Sharpshooter before he was a teen, darn few rabbits, missed,
feed a family of many on scraps, the times they were lean,
no other path to follow now t's his choice and God's blest,
strong winds of war blowing from the west, he's getting mean.

Too young for Marines, and Navy too, so off to the Army he went,
a share-croppers son of just sixteen, to take on a struggle this hard,
he was no better or worse than anyone, just did duty where he was sent,
sick at sea and never looked the part of soldier in a fight with his heart.

Distant shores became common rather than new, saw more than a few,
from Morocco to Sicily and Italy, Anzio Beach, to southern France,
no longer a lad of sixteen, older now because of what he's been through,
made a leader of men, most older than he, was the one who took chance.

Baby Face, Murph, Murphy he was called and Little Texas too,
when things got rough and hot, they called for him; Hey Sarge, !
some say he had a death wish, could be true, lucky for me an you,
over hills and mountain tops, rivers and oceans, trees an hedges.

Fear may have been within him, none near him could ever tell,
sights his eyes saw too much for most, he gave all hell to his host,
200 and more slain by his hand alone, and never a word of boast,
rain and snow, heat and cold all ground pounders know this is hell.

Blood spilled again, again and again, return he must too at the end,
now a golden bar upon his collar, more to entrust honor's birth to,
near 300 dough-boys a company to start now less than a dozen, to end,
paths of fear, death traveled and return, from hell and back too.

Years of strife and gore from shore to far off shore the like never seen,
hell a vacation place it would seem, death a grateful rest at last,
more un-seemly than beauty to be viewed no pastoral scene,
memories of deeds done, honors won, always, always in the past.

Now at last the test has been past and honors kept bright an right,
a silver bar now on his collar and ribbons on his chest, he's the best,
others not far behind in all his rewards his name is on top of the list,
blue ribbon with white stars hung around his neck , he's met the test.

Share-croppers son still not twenty one, Little Texas has won,
home again to start anew pride of all, now bravest son of Texas,
soon golden leaf to rest on his collar, and a new star to be won,
fast as lighting to draw a gun, and ride trails this son of Texas.

Lost to the clouds and mist of the mountains, shouldn't have flown,
a spirit of youth and pride he gave to all will last deep inside,
a youthful grin and face to match carry's the red badge we've known,
wait for me Audie "Lee" would like to travel a path or two by your side.

Source: www.audiemurphy.com/

Senior Citizens

Senior citizens are constantly being criticized for every conceivable deficiency of the modern world, real or imaginary. We know we take responsibility for all we have done and do not try to blame others.

HOWEVER, upon reflection, we would like to point out that it was NOT senior citizens who took:

The melody out of music,

The pride out of appearance,

The courtesy out of driving,

The romance out of love,

The commitment out of marriage,

The responsibility out of parenthood,
The togetherness out of the family,

The learning out of education

The service out of patriotism,

The Golden Rule from rulers,

The nativity scene out of cities,

The civility out of behavior,

The refinement out of language,

The dedication out of employment,

The prudence out of spending,

The ambition out of achievement or
God out of government and school.

And we certainly are NOT the ones who eliminated patience and tolerance from personal relationships and interactions with others!!

And, we DO understand the meaning of patriotism, and remember those who have fought and died for our country.

Just look at the Seniors with tears in their eyes and pride in their hearts, as they stand at attention with their hand over their hearts, as the American Flag passes by in a parade!

YES, I'M A SENIOR CITIZEN!

I'm the life of the party.....
Even if it lasts until 8 p.m.

I'm very good at opening childproof caps.....
With a hammer.

I'm awake many hours before my body allows me to get up.

I'm smiling all the time, because I can't hear a thing you're saying.

I'm sure everything I can't find is in a safe secure place, somewhere.

I'm wrinkled, saggy, lumpy, and that's just my left leg.

I'm beginning to realize that aging is not for wimps.

Yes, I'm a SENIOR CITIZEN and I think I am having the time of my life! Now if I could only remember who sent this to me, I wouldn't send it back to them. Or, maybe I should send it to all my friends anyway. They won't remember, even if they did send it. Spread the laughter
Share the cheer, Let's be happy, While we're here.

MAY GOD BLESS AMERICA AND MAY AMERICA
CONTINUE TO THANK GOD!!

Go Green - Recycle Congress and the Senate!!!!

Source: Email

Power Of Prayer

Click here to read the story from the Bride in this picture. It is a heart warming story and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did.

Source: Internet

The REAL Charlie Brown - A True War Story

Ministry often reminds me of an incident from World War II. A B-17 bomber was struggling over the skies of Germany, shot to pieces by the German fighters. Half of the crew was wounded and the tail gunner killed.

German ace, Franz Stigler, was standing near his fighter as the B-17 was flying low overhead and took off in pursuit. He was more than a fighter pilot. Stigler was just one shot away from winning “The Knight's Cross,” the German highest award for valor. Stigler’s pilot brother was killed, comrades dead, his cities bombed, and he had a score to settle with the Americans. Falling in behind the sputtering bomber, he squinted into his gun sight and had his hand on the trigger and about to fire.

Pilot Charlie Brown glanced from the cockpit and froze at the sight of the German fighter that had closed in to hover near the tip of the wing of the crippled bomber. He steeled himself for the final shots of death.

The German ace waited to pull the trigger while he stared back at the horror stricken faces. He saw the tail gunner soaked in blood, the skin of the bomber peeled away, the guns knocked out, one propeller was not turning, and smoke was trailing from another engine. Inside the shattered plane, he saw the huddled men as they tended the injuries of the wounded.

Stigler nudged his plane alongside the bomber. His eyes locked with the pilot’s that were wide open with shock and fear. Easing his index finger from the trigger, he felt that it was too much like murder. And then history experienced one the greatest acts of chivalry of the second world war. Stigler nodded and saluted to Charlie Brown. Then turning from his anger and vengeance, that German pilot resolved to risk his own execution to save the enemy. He recalled the words of a commander who said, follow the rules of war but to “fight by rules to keep your humanity."

Alone in the skies with the crippled bomber, Stigler changed his mission right there, nodded at the American pilot, and then escorted the battered bomber over the North Sea. Finally, taking a last look at the American pilot, he saluted and peeled his fighter away to return to Germany. Franz Stigler breathed to himself, "Good luck. You're in God's hands now..." That B-17 probably would not make it to England, and he wondered for years what had happened to the American plane.

As the Second Lt. Charles Brown watched the German fighter pulling away on that December day, he flew the crippled plane and wounded men on back to England and landed. One engine had been knocked out, another was failing, and there was barely any fuel. Stopping the bomber, he leaned back and put a hand over the pocket Bible in his flight jacket and sat there in silence.

After the war and remembering the German pilot, Brown fought against his nightmares. There was no mercy extended as he would waken just before the crash. And then Charlie Brown began one of the greatest missions of his life, to find that German pilot and find the reason why he had spared his life? He scoured the military archives, attended a reunion of pilots, and even put an ad in a German newsletter of pilots to retell the story. Then on January 18, 1990, Brown received a letter which he opened to read:

"Dear Charles, All these years I wondered what happened to that B-17, did she make it home? Did her crew survive their wounds? To hear of your survival has filled me with indescribable joy..."

And it was signed, Franz Stigler. Franz had moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, and became prosperous businessman. The retired German pilot told Brown that he would be in Florida that summer, and "it sure would be nice to talk about our encounter."

But that was not enough for Brown who was so excited that he couldn't wait for summer. Charlie Brown called directory assistance and then dialed the number. Hearing Franz Stigler’s voice as he picked up the phone, Charlie shouted through the tears streaming down his cheeks, "My God, it's you!"

In a letter to Stigler, he wrote "To say THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU on behalf of my surviving crew members and their families appears totally inadequate." And then one day, meeting in the lobby of a Florida hotel, the two men fell into each other' arms as they wept and laughed. Someone asked Stigler what he thought about Charlie Brown. The aging German man paused and sighed as his jaw tightened. Fighting back the tears, he said, "I love you, Charlie."

The German ace had lost his brother, lost his friends and country to a war that had cost him everything. He was only one of 1,200 pilots from the German Air Force who survived out of 28,000 men. But these who had met as enemies became the greatest of fishing buddies and friends. They would cross the country back and forth on flights to visit each others homes, and they took road trips to share their story.

Charlie Brown organized a reunion and included the survivors from his aircraft, including their extended families. Then he invited Stigler to be the guest of honor. As Franz Stigler watched from his seat of honor, everyone cried together as a video played of the children and grandchildren who were living through his great act of chivalry.

Charlie's daughter shared more about her father as the friendship of the two men deepened. She said, "The nightmares went away." And they talked about twice a week as her father worried over Stigler's health, constantly checking on him.

In the year of 2008, the two friends died within months of each other; Stigler was 92, and Brown was 87. After Charlie died, his daughter found a book about German fighter jets in his library. It was a gift from Stigler, and inside she read this inscription:

“In 1940, I lost my only brother as a night fighter. On the 20th of December, 4 days before Christmas, I had the chance to save a B-17 from her destruction, a plane so badly damaged it was a wonder that she was still flying. The pilot, Charlie Brown, is for me, as precious as my brother was. Thanks Charlie.
Your Brother,

Franz”

Reading this story, I think of the many fearful who struggle through skies of their false religions. They will look in horror while God’s sky pilots move into position and look into their eyes. We come to help them, not to destroy. Our gaze into the souls of the lost exposes such fears and wounded souls. Limping through the skies of life, their heavy crafts of religion are missing the power of God’s Word - and they will never make it home!

We love these people so much! And as we fall in close by, we wish to help by sharing the way to safety. We are given through Jesus Christ the ministry of reconciliation. “Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God” (2 Corinthians 5:20). We regret their fears, but what can we do now except to pray they will respond. Who will heed God’s message, cooperate and follow the truth as we point them the way for safety and home.

And then one day, imagine the reunion to follow! Many will be there, but how many? Who will be there? Only the saved, many of the loved ones, and family members who follow the faith of their fathers by trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ!

I wonder! Perhaps just before the Savior dries our eyes in heaven, will there be many tears? Just think of our gratitude while remembering the greatest Champion of all. He was sent on His rescue mission. Then hovering near our ruptured crafts, He pointed the way to safety and led us safely home. Thank you, Lord Jesus!

And to you who are father’s, why not make this the greatest Father’s Day ever! Look now to Jesus Christ. Trust Him to lead you to safety. Follow Him through faith of God’s Word. And then as much as possible, make your life count while leading your families to eternal life in glory!

The REAL Charlie Brown - A True War Story
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNtAQkc_MEo