****Updated to add that I just found that this is not quite correct. This is actually
by Dr. Kent M. Keith (often falsely attributed to Mother Teresa)
The last line is not one from Dr. Keith's original Paradoxical Commandments
it seems to have been added by.... anonymous. HOWEVER... I still like it. A lot. Enough to swipe it from a favorite blog of mine Quiet Life... and when she fixed who she attributed it to, then I had to do the same.
"People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Monday, August 3, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
such a bright light shining
There are some people in this world that my spirit rushes when I see them. It is as if my spirit yearns for what they have. Their stories and their light shine so bright that I want to bask in it one moment and then another moment I am convicted to go and preach at every street corner.
I am trying to make sense here but I have a feeling that I need to start with something more concrete.
This is Cott and Shus. Those aren't their real names really but that is what everyone knows them by. This is a couple that have poured out their lives for God.
I first met Cott and Shus around 8 years ago when my son was just a baby. I can't believe it has been that long.
The first time I met them I did my best to pay them great respect because my parents taught me well and I was trained to honor and respect and love those older then me. The aged in my world are some of the most amazing people ever. Their experiences and what makes people who they are today fascinate me. I would love to sit at the feet of the older generation and soak up all the stories and tales and remembrances that they could find to tell me.
Cott did most of the talking on that first day and I remember exactly what he talked about. He talked about sharing the Gospel. He talked about how he shared the Gospel and how he talked to people. He showed me the tracts that he would sometimes use. He showed me the scriptures and he asked me about my salvation. He asked me who I had shared the Gospel with recently.
His light was so very bright.
He was a country preacher. I can identify with that in a powerful way cause I grew up tagging along after my country preacher Daddy. I grew up listening to country preachers preach the Gospel over old oak pulpits with lightening bugs flittering in and out of the open country church windows.
Cott didn't stop at the old oak pulpits. I had the sense that he never stopped. He told me about the people he would see at diners and the people he would talk to at gas stations and those that he would share with everywhere he went everyday. He was so earnest in his zeal for God.
He didn't grow up in the church. He was not a Christian until he was married and busy working his farm but once God came into his life it was never the same.
Now Cott and Shus are retired. It was a long time in coming. I do think that they were technically retired before this but that they never really stopped. They kept right on doing God's work. They consistently filled in at small country churches all over the state. They consistently shared the story of Jesus.
Finally though, it was time. Shus was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and he quickly realized that he needed to be there with her constantly and that it was time to pass on the torch of the hospital visits and all the other work to others.
They are living in an apartment in a community for retired ministers. Recently, we talked and he sat there telling me in amazement what an incredible wife Shus had been for him all these years. How she took care of all the finances and took care of all the things in the home as well as taught elementary school until her own retirement. He impressed upon me that he never understood all that she did, all that she was to him fully. That only recently had he completely realized what all she had done. Cott told me that now he would gladly care for Shus. It was his turn to do this work. To care for his beloved in so many ways.
I am trying to make sense here but I have a feeling that I need to start with something more concrete.
This is Cott and Shus. Those aren't their real names really but that is what everyone knows them by. This is a couple that have poured out their lives for God.
I first met Cott and Shus around 8 years ago when my son was just a baby. I can't believe it has been that long.
The first time I met them I did my best to pay them great respect because my parents taught me well and I was trained to honor and respect and love those older then me. The aged in my world are some of the most amazing people ever. Their experiences and what makes people who they are today fascinate me. I would love to sit at the feet of the older generation and soak up all the stories and tales and remembrances that they could find to tell me.
Cott did most of the talking on that first day and I remember exactly what he talked about. He talked about sharing the Gospel. He talked about how he shared the Gospel and how he talked to people. He showed me the tracts that he would sometimes use. He showed me the scriptures and he asked me about my salvation. He asked me who I had shared the Gospel with recently.
His light was so very bright.
He was a country preacher. I can identify with that in a powerful way cause I grew up tagging along after my country preacher Daddy. I grew up listening to country preachers preach the Gospel over old oak pulpits with lightening bugs flittering in and out of the open country church windows.
Cott didn't stop at the old oak pulpits. I had the sense that he never stopped. He told me about the people he would see at diners and the people he would talk to at gas stations and those that he would share with everywhere he went everyday. He was so earnest in his zeal for God.
He didn't grow up in the church. He was not a Christian until he was married and busy working his farm but once God came into his life it was never the same.
Now Cott and Shus are retired. It was a long time in coming. I do think that they were technically retired before this but that they never really stopped. They kept right on doing God's work. They consistently filled in at small country churches all over the state. They consistently shared the story of Jesus.
Finally though, it was time. Shus was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and he quickly realized that he needed to be there with her constantly and that it was time to pass on the torch of the hospital visits and all the other work to others.
They are living in an apartment in a community for retired ministers. Recently, we talked and he sat there telling me in amazement what an incredible wife Shus had been for him all these years. How she took care of all the finances and took care of all the things in the home as well as taught elementary school until her own retirement. He impressed upon me that he never understood all that she did, all that she was to him fully. That only recently had he completely realized what all she had done. Cott told me that now he would gladly care for Shus. It was his turn to do this work. To care for his beloved in so many ways.
His work for the Lord continues on in ways he never imagined.
His inspiration will go on in ways he may never imagine in this known world.
Monday, January 12, 2009
granted reprieve
Yesterday evening I was tucking my little boy into bed and praying with him. For years he has said the beginning of his bedtime prayers as, "Jesus, Jesus day. Bless Momma, bless Daddy... etc... etc. Amen."
It may sound weird but that is how he prays and always has. He has prayed this way since he could talk. Since the day that he could lisp out the name Jesus, this is how my son started his prayers. I do know generally how this happened. You see when he was young I started off many a bed time prayer with, "Dear Jesus, Thank you for today."
He merely smooshed it so it was easy for his little mouth to say. He is now seven. Yes, seven years old and still saying, "Jesus, Jesus, day." Most of the time I do not even notice it. It has simply become part of praying with the Boy.
My problem is that yesterday evening that whole thought went up in smoke when he started by saying, "Jesus, Jesus, day..." and then he stopped. He paused and then said, "Dear God..." and he finished his prayer. When that happened I squeezed my eyes shut tight in shock and surprise. I know that my seven, almost eight year old, should not still be saying, "Jesus, Jesus Day..." BUT it is such a part of him. Such a part of his littleness. Such a part of the baby I used to snuggle and scoop up with such ease. It is such a part of so very many memories of us praying together, night, after night after night.
Nights when it took patience for me to even pray with him. Nights when I would pour out my heart to God in prayers that left me in tears. Nights when I would pray for help in leading this boy in the correct way and many nights spent praying with him for Daddy to be safe in Iraq. I have spent nights praying for sweet bunnies who have died and nights spent praying for aunts and uncles in China and then years later the same aunt in a hospital just hours away. I have spent nights hearing his sweet prayers open with, "Jesus, Jesus day... " and have heard him continue on to pray for young friends suffering with leukemia, and to hear him thank God for the trees and the flowers and the bushes and the bugs. All the innocent childhood prayers for years and years were encompassed with that opening phrase.
My momma heart felt slightly torn as I knew that he was realizing that his opening for prayer wasn't "right." That there was a better way. A more acceptable way... in his young mind.
It was hard for me that night to give him a soft kiss on his still soft cheek and to just walk away from his bed. There was actually a part of me that wanted to curl right up there with him and beg him to stop growing up. That would be a weird parenting tactic, but I can't deny that the urge was there.
I felt wistful looking back in on him later that night. I made sure he was covered up well and all was well in his room and kissed his cheek again knowing that, "Jesus, Jesus day..." would probably not be heard again.
Tonight, I prayed with him and I talked with him and in the process he actually licked me right across the nose, which was disgusting and wet and just plain gross and was so very little boy like. Then we prayed and he opened the prayer with, "Jesus, Jesus day..." and never paused and never seemed to think about it twice.
I however did pause and I did think twice and I did hug him close and know that I was granted a reprieve. It will not be long I am sure but I will treasure every time I hear, "Jesus, Jesus day..."
It may sound weird but that is how he prays and always has. He has prayed this way since he could talk. Since the day that he could lisp out the name Jesus, this is how my son started his prayers. I do know generally how this happened. You see when he was young I started off many a bed time prayer with, "Dear Jesus, Thank you for today."
He merely smooshed it so it was easy for his little mouth to say. He is now seven. Yes, seven years old and still saying, "Jesus, Jesus, day." Most of the time I do not even notice it. It has simply become part of praying with the Boy.
My problem is that yesterday evening that whole thought went up in smoke when he started by saying, "Jesus, Jesus, day..." and then he stopped. He paused and then said, "Dear God..." and he finished his prayer. When that happened I squeezed my eyes shut tight in shock and surprise. I know that my seven, almost eight year old, should not still be saying, "Jesus, Jesus Day..." BUT it is such a part of him. Such a part of his littleness. Such a part of the baby I used to snuggle and scoop up with such ease. It is such a part of so very many memories of us praying together, night, after night after night.
Nights when it took patience for me to even pray with him. Nights when I would pour out my heart to God in prayers that left me in tears. Nights when I would pray for help in leading this boy in the correct way and many nights spent praying with him for Daddy to be safe in Iraq. I have spent nights praying for sweet bunnies who have died and nights spent praying for aunts and uncles in China and then years later the same aunt in a hospital just hours away. I have spent nights hearing his sweet prayers open with, "Jesus, Jesus day... " and have heard him continue on to pray for young friends suffering with leukemia, and to hear him thank God for the trees and the flowers and the bushes and the bugs. All the innocent childhood prayers for years and years were encompassed with that opening phrase.
My momma heart felt slightly torn as I knew that he was realizing that his opening for prayer wasn't "right." That there was a better way. A more acceptable way... in his young mind.
It was hard for me that night to give him a soft kiss on his still soft cheek and to just walk away from his bed. There was actually a part of me that wanted to curl right up there with him and beg him to stop growing up. That would be a weird parenting tactic, but I can't deny that the urge was there.
I felt wistful looking back in on him later that night. I made sure he was covered up well and all was well in his room and kissed his cheek again knowing that, "Jesus, Jesus day..." would probably not be heard again.
Tonight, I prayed with him and I talked with him and in the process he actually licked me right across the nose, which was disgusting and wet and just plain gross and was so very little boy like. Then we prayed and he opened the prayer with, "Jesus, Jesus day..." and never paused and never seemed to think about it twice.
I however did pause and I did think twice and I did hug him close and know that I was granted a reprieve. It will not be long I am sure but I will treasure every time I hear, "Jesus, Jesus day..."
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Dia de los Reyes
Happy Three Kings Day!!!This is also known as Epiphany and is a very important holiday for many people. Our family has some fairly strong Puerto Rican roots to it for which I am so grateful and because of that we have begun incorporating some of this holiday into our family traditions.
I did find an awesome children's book on Three Kings Day at our base library and as you know that I love kid's books and I love sharing them with you all that book is The Storyteller's Candle.
There are many great books on this celebration but I do think this was my favorite! It doesn't just tell the story of Three Kings Day though, it tells some of the culture of the Puerto Ricans in New York city in the early part of the last century and how a wonderful librarian reaches out to the community. I think it resonated with me and my kids because of our love for Libraries and books and all of that good stuff.
If this isn't a celebration that you are familiar with check it out. Find a book or two or at least google it and see if this isn't something you and your family would enjoy celebrating as well.
This celebration and Epiphany have been around long before Christmas was celebrated, so if for nothing else, you should check out the wonderful and rich history behind it.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
i wanna be a widow
My daughter wants to be a widow.
She came into my room one morning not long ago and announced her decision. I smiled slightly and asked, "Do you know what a widow is?"
"No."
"Well, let me know you. A widow is a woman who was married and her husband has died."
"Oh.... Yup, that is what I want to be. A widow."
I had to giggle. My daughter wants to get married and have her husband die?!
Fast forward to today when she was playing with her Mr. Potato Head toy and she made a pretty potato and announced, "This is a widow."
Now, I am not sure what she is thinking exactly with these widow things. I think part of it is from the Bible stories we read about the widows in the Bible. She knows the stories of Elijah and the Widow and she knows the story of the widow and her offering in the temple. I can only suppose that these are influencing her remarks. Perhaps they are drawn as pretty ladies in the book? I have no idea. Perhaps she remembers how God commands us to care for the widows and the orphans and she wants cared for?
In the meantime, while other little girls dream of having weddings with their pretty things, my daughter dreams of her husband dying and her being alone! YIKES!
She came into my room one morning not long ago and announced her decision. I smiled slightly and asked, "Do you know what a widow is?"
"No."
"Well, let me know you. A widow is a woman who was married and her husband has died."
"Oh.... Yup, that is what I want to be. A widow."
I had to giggle. My daughter wants to get married and have her husband die?!
Fast forward to today when she was playing with her Mr. Potato Head toy and she made a pretty potato and announced, "This is a widow."
Now, I am not sure what she is thinking exactly with these widow things. I think part of it is from the Bible stories we read about the widows in the Bible. She knows the stories of Elijah and the Widow and she knows the story of the widow and her offering in the temple. I can only suppose that these are influencing her remarks. Perhaps they are drawn as pretty ladies in the book? I have no idea. Perhaps she remembers how God commands us to care for the widows and the orphans and she wants cared for?
In the meantime, while other little girls dream of having weddings with their pretty things, my daughter dreams of her husband dying and her being alone! YIKES!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
brought to you by the united states air force
John and I do not have TV channels to speak of. We sorta get in PBS and once in a while some great snow, but that is about it. We do watch movies and what not but we fulfill our TV show desires on hulu. Now, if you haven't heard of hulu then you should go check it out and see what you can watch for free. No cable bill here!
Tonight we watched the new episode of Chuck. We really enjoy Chuck... and we often will catch The Office and 30 Rock, or whatever else we decide to waste time on.
Hulu has minimal commercials during the show and they are always just one sponsor per show. Tonight, that sponsor was the United States Air Force and they had about four spots or so interspersed through the show.
It was just very amusing to us because as the show started it said, "This show is brought to you by the United States Air Force." Since I still get a kick out of the fact that John is in the military (don't ask it is a complicated and weird part of me) I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. He laughed and replied, "We should have that announcement on everything here."
Can't you just see it? I open my microwave, bought with money from my husband's paycheck, and the microwave says, "Brought to you from the United States Air Force."
The thought of this made me laugh every time an AF commercial came on. I can see everything in my house covered with tags labeling how we got everything we own.
The military is a different world and they do tend to own you. Once I was very much awake and it was quite late and John was trying to go to sleep, but I really needed to get all my words out for the day and I kept talking to him (I am sure those of you that know me are shocked with this information). And finally he whined at me, "This is abuse of government property." I laughed so hard that I about fell off the bed.
The problem is that this is so true. We are a home where all the income comes from the military. He is their property and all we have should say as you use it, "Brought to you by the United States Air Force."
Every now and then I have to remind the kids that Daddy has to work. Frankly, they would rather he be home everyday to play with them. I have to tell them that Daddy works so we can have a nice warm home and food for them to eat and all those things. Every now and then I need to remind myself and my family that the Air Force doesn't own all we have. Sure, they own this house and they sorta own my husband in some ways, but they do not really own any of it.
All of this belongs to God. Every stick. Every penny. Every blanket. Every bear. Every hand woven mohair blanket. It is all His. We are just borrowing it all.
So, what would be even more interesting is if everything in this house had labels on it saying, "Brought to you by God."
If my little one walked in for breakfast with a night gown, embroidered on the front, "Brought to you by God." Would I reconsider ever getting snippy with her? Would I hug her tighter if I were reminded of this constantly? Would children anywhere be abused? Neglected? Forgotten?
What a different place we would live in if things had that label everywhere we went.
Tonight we watched the new episode of Chuck. We really enjoy Chuck... and we often will catch The Office and 30 Rock, or whatever else we decide to waste time on.
Hulu has minimal commercials during the show and they are always just one sponsor per show. Tonight, that sponsor was the United States Air Force and they had about four spots or so interspersed through the show.
It was just very amusing to us because as the show started it said, "This show is brought to you by the United States Air Force." Since I still get a kick out of the fact that John is in the military (don't ask it is a complicated and weird part of me) I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. He laughed and replied, "We should have that announcement on everything here."
Can't you just see it? I open my microwave, bought with money from my husband's paycheck, and the microwave says, "Brought to you from the United States Air Force."
The thought of this made me laugh every time an AF commercial came on. I can see everything in my house covered with tags labeling how we got everything we own.
The military is a different world and they do tend to own you. Once I was very much awake and it was quite late and John was trying to go to sleep, but I really needed to get all my words out for the day and I kept talking to him (I am sure those of you that know me are shocked with this information). And finally he whined at me, "This is abuse of government property." I laughed so hard that I about fell off the bed.
The problem is that this is so true. We are a home where all the income comes from the military. He is their property and all we have should say as you use it, "Brought to you by the United States Air Force."
Every now and then I have to remind the kids that Daddy has to work. Frankly, they would rather he be home everyday to play with them. I have to tell them that Daddy works so we can have a nice warm home and food for them to eat and all those things. Every now and then I need to remind myself and my family that the Air Force doesn't own all we have. Sure, they own this house and they sorta own my husband in some ways, but they do not really own any of it.
All of this belongs to God. Every stick. Every penny. Every blanket. Every bear. Every hand woven mohair blanket. It is all His. We are just borrowing it all.
So, what would be even more interesting is if everything in this house had labels on it saying, "Brought to you by God."
If my little one walked in for breakfast with a night gown, embroidered on the front, "Brought to you by God." Would I reconsider ever getting snippy with her? Would I hug her tighter if I were reminded of this constantly? Would children anywhere be abused? Neglected? Forgotten?
What a different place we would live in if things had that label everywhere we went.
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