Dear Lord, it's such a hectic day
With little time to stop and pray
For life's been anything but calm
Since You called on me to be a mom
Running errands, matching socks
Building dreams with building blocks
Cooking, cleaning, and finding shoes
And other stuff that children lose
Fitting lids on bottled bugs
Wiping tears and giving hugs
A stack of last weeks mail to read
So where's the quiet time I need?
Yet when I steal a minute, Lord
Just at the sink or ironing board
To ask the blessings of Your grace
I see then, in my small one's face
That you have blessed me
All the while
And I stop to kiss
That precious smile

A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away.

As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing.

He asked her what was wrong and she replied, "I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother.

But I only have seventy-five cents, and a rose costs two dollars."

The man smiled and said, "Come on in with me. I'll buy you a rose."

He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother's flowers.

As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home.

She said, "Yes, please! You can take me to my mother."

She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.

The man returned to the flower shop, canceled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother's house.

"My name is Nancy, and I'm a people pleaser." While this confession is not as dramatic as admitting an addition to drugs or alcohol, it has the potential of being debilitating if allowed to distract your work and ministry. I would probably need to see a therapist to get to the bottom of why I'm such a people pleaser because I don't know when or why I jumped on that roller coaster of trying to make everyone happy all the time!

ecently, on a day much unlike any other day, I was driving home from the store with my little family. I was in a hurry to get home as a rather ominous looking storm was rapidly approaching us. I whipped our little car out of the Meijer parking lot and started down State Route 309 toward Delphos, hoping to circumnavigate the storm. As we approached the stop light ahead, my wife asked if we could take the "country" way home. I argued briefly but reluctantly surrendered to her request and turned north toward Gomer and directly into the blackness that soon engulfed our little car. Our car, being the magnificent piece of technology that it is, doesn't have a working fan, so when the windows get fogged up, like happens in a thunderstorm, we have to do the "roll and wipe" (roll down the windows and wipe off the inside of the windshield). I became very angry to have had to deviate from my plan just to get caught in the middle of a thunderstorm with my window down, getting drenched, and wiping the fog off the inside of the windshield, but then I noticed something.

sat alone in the recliner reading his note through my tears. It was filled with sadness, despair, and all the reasons why my 23 year old son had decided to end his life. I wasn't able to go with my husband as he rushed our son to the hospital. I was recuperating from the damage mold had done to my lungs and needed a breathing treatment. There was no time to waste, so I had to stay home and wait for news from the hospital.

Since we live on a farm with family close by, I left most of the lights off in the house. I didn't want to alarm anyone, at least not until I knew something. I just couldn't bring myself to call anyone. Who could I call? What would I say? I couldn't even wrap my mind around what had happened yet, let alone try to explain it to anyone else. The only one I could talk to at that moment was Jesus.

roszi Lombardino and Paul Perrello grew up like brothers. Leaving Italy, their Sicilian immigrant parents had met at Ellis Island, became steadfast friends, and settled almost next door to each other. Shortly thereafter, their sons were born, only two days apart, growing up like twins, with almost no life apart from each other.

Provided with an opportunity to study music, both developed into superb musicians. Broszi, a master drummer, referred to himself as ‘“The Percussionist,” as though on the entire planet Earth, he alone played the drums. Moreover, Paul, a virtuoso of the violin, often bragged that no one could "percuss like Brosz." On the other hand, often referring to Paul as “The Violinist,” The Percussionist frequently claimed that Paul "invented the strings."

helly looked out upon a snow-blanketed world. The weatherman had been right. There was at least a foot of snow, and it was still coming down.

She shook her husband gently. "Tom, wake up."

He mumbled.

"It's snowing. I heard on the radio that most churches had cancelled their services."

Tom rose up in the bed. "No church?"

h, I love dogs. I have two furry companions who are loyal, loving and faithful, and I strive to be like them! You know the old saying "Lord, make me the person my dog thinks I am." As we watch dogs, we can really learn from them.

Enthusiasm: There is no pet more enthusiastic than my dog Scooby. Whether I just take the garbage out, or am gone all day at work, he jumps and wags his tail and barks his greetings. When he goes to the treat jar, or I should say runs, his long legs flail as he slides his entry into the kitchen. Do we greet our families with loving enthusiasm when they come home? Do we share our faith with others in an enthusiastic way? Lord, make me loving and enthusiastic like my dog. -Acts 11:22

Scottish tradesman, a painter called Jack, was very interested in making extra money where he could. So he often would thin down his paint to make it go a wee bit further. As it happened, he got away with this for some time. Eventually the Presbyterian Church decided to do a big restoration job on one of their biggest churches.

wish I'd been there, outside Dawg Haus that late summer morning. I'd have seen the laughter in his eyes, heard the joy seasoning his every word. How I would have chuckled. His sister, had she been present, would have heard them too. Instead, Laurel would overhear the words a few days later, in a different setting.

However, as summer wound to a close and school lurked a few weeks away, a group of young people hung together as only teenagers can. Around the tables bordering Dawg Haus, the local hotdog stand, life vibrated with shared remembrances, soared on the wings of cherished dreams.