Don’t Grow Old

Don’t Grow Old

Many people are afraid of growing old. I’m afraid of growing old and boring. Many people are afraid of growing old, alone. I’m afraid of growing old, insane. Many people are afraid of losing their looks. I’m afraid of losing my dreams. Many people are afraid of losing their youth. I’m afraid of losing my soul. When you’re 15, 35 seems ancient. When you’re 35, 15 seems juvenile. A turnaround in a split second – two decades zoom past and before you know it, it’s only a mile to the next millennium. Don’t fear age, it’s a right of person-hood. Don’t fear death- it’s God’s greatest jest. Don’t grow old – you don’t have to. Don’t date because you’re desperate. Don’t marry because you’re miserable. Don’t have kids because you think your genes are superior. Don’t separate because you think it’s fashionable. Don’t drink because you have troubles. Don’t gamble because you think winning is inevitable. Don’t philander because you think you’re irresistible. Most likely, you’re not. Don’t associate with people you can’t trust. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Don’t pretend. Don’t try to buy your way into the kingdom of God. Don’t dictate because you’re smarter. Don’t demand because you’re stronger. Don’t sleep around because you think you’re old enough and know better. Don’t hurt your kids because loving them

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Circles of Love

Circles of Love

It was over 20 years ago. I was holding my baby son in my arms while my two other children played under a big tree in the front yard of an old house. The house was also a local food bank and I was watching my children while my wife went in. I had been laid off work for a long time and we were out of food. I tried to laugh as my children chased each other around the tree but my heart was too heavy. Despair hung around me like a cloud. All I could feel was fear. Finally, my wife came out holding a large bag of food and we smiled at each other. Thanks to the kindness of others our children would not go hungry that night. It was yesterday. I found myself outside the doors of another food bank. Thanks to the kindness of a kindred spirit I had some extra money in my wallet and a longing to share this gift with others. I went to the local grocery store and bought what I could with what I had. Then I carried in the bags of food to help restock the food bank’s sparse shelves. The people there thanked me several times, but I felt a little embarrassed as I accepted their gratitude. I

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Ragman (Part 2)

Ragman (Part 2)

In a little while, when the sky showed grey behind the rooftops and I could see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the Ragman came upon a girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage, whose eyes were empty. Blood soaked her bandage. A single line of blood ran down her cheek. Now the tall Ragman looked upon this child with pity, and he drew a lovely yellow bonnet from his cart. “Give me your rag,” he said, tracing his own line on her cheek, “and I’ll give you mine.” The child could only gaze at him while he loosened the bandage, removed it, and tied it to his own head. The bonnet he set on hers. And I gasped at what I saw: for with the bandage went the wound! Against his brow it ran a darker, more substantial blood – his own! “Rags! Rags! I take old rags!” cried the sobbing, bleeding, strong, intelligent Ragman. The sun hurt both the sky, now, and my eyes; the Ragman seemed more and more to hurry. “Are you going to work?” he asked a man who leaned against a telephone pole. The man shook his head. The Ragman pressed him: “Do you have a job?” “Are you crazy?” sneered the other. He pulled away from the pole, revealing the right

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Ragman

Ragman

I saw a strange sight. I stumbled upon a story most strange, like nothing my life, my street sense, my sly tongue had ever prepared me for. Hush, child. Hush, now, and I will tell it to you. Even before the dawn one Friday morning I noticed a young man, handsome and strong, walking the alleys of our City. He was pulling an old cart filled with clothes both bright and new, and he was calling in a clear, tenor voice: “Rags!” Ah, the air was foul and the first light filthy to be crossed by such sweet music. “Rags! New rags for old! I take your tired rags! Rags!” “Now, this is a wonder,” I thought to myself, for the man stood six-feet-four, and his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, and his eyes flashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be a ragman in the inner city? I followed him. My curiosity drove me. And I wasn’t disappointed. Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting on her back porch. She was sobbing into a handkerchief, sighing, and shedding a thousand tears. Her knees and elbows made a sad X. Her shoulders shook. Her heart was breaking. The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, he walked to the woman, stepping round tin cans, dead

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Optimism

Optimism

In order to better understand people’s views of the world, a researcher once placed two children, one a pessimist and the other an optimist, alone in separate rooms. The pessimist was placed in a colourful room full of all kinds of imaginative toys, while the optimist was put in a room filled with horse manure. The first child played in the room for a little while but soon came to the door asking to leave because the toys were boring and because they broke too easily. Likewise, the young optimist soon came to the door, but rather than asking to leave, she asked for a shovel. Of course, the researcher asked the child why she wanted a shovel. She replied, “With all this manure around, I know that there must be a pony in here somewhere.” Life is as you choose see it. – Author Unknown Meditation: But they have not all obeyed the gospel. For Isaiah says, “Lord, who has believed our report?” – Romans 10:16 You will succeed in Jesus Name! Also read: ABC of Multiculture May You Always Feel Loved The Most, the Easiest, the Greatest

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