The Other Grandma

The Other Grandma

The Other Grandma We were grandmothers together to two of the nicest grandkids anybody ever had. It makes great comedy on television for the two grandmothers to engage in rivalry, but that never happened with us. We both babysat—sometimes on the same day—passing those wonderful children between us with her sometimes coming to get them from me and I sometimes going to her home to pick them up. I liked her a lot and never doubted that she gave my grandchildren the best of love and care. Even after our children divorced, our relationship remained the same. Can you imagine how sad I was for my grandchildren when I recently learned that her cancer was terminal and she did not have much longer to live? It was heart-breaking for me because of those grandchildren. They were facing one of the most difficult losses of life at a time when it would be most devastating. When I saw my four-year-old granddaughter a couple of days later, I said to her, “Honey, I’m sorry your nana is so sick.” Perhaps she didn’t want to talk about it; perhaps she was busy playing with cousins, or perhaps she didn’t really hear me. All she replied was, “That’s okay.” The next day, when I was with her again, after a few minutes, she nearly

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Share Your Time

Share Your Time

A man came home from work late again, tired and irritated, to find his 5 year old son waiting for him at the door. “Daddy, may I ask you a question?” “Yeah, sure, what is it?” replied the man. “Daddy, how much money do you make an hour? “That’s none of your business! What makes you ask such a thing?” the man said angrily. “I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?” pleaded the little boy. “If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour.” “Oh,” the little boy replied, head bowed. Looking up, he said, “Daddy, may I borrow $10.00 please?” The father was furious. “If the only reason you wanted to know how much money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you’re being so selfish. I work long, hard hours every day and don’t have time for such childish games.” The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy’s questioning. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money? After an hour or so, the

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1 Corinthians 13 Christmas Version

1 Corinthians 13 Christmas Version

1 Corinthians 13 Christmas Version If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls, but do not show love to my family, I’m just another decorator. If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family, I’m just another cook. If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home, and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family, it profits me nothing. If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties and sing in the choir’s cantata, but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point. Love stops the cooking to hug the child. Love sets aside decorating to kiss the husband. Love is kind, though harried and tired. Love doesn’t envy another’s home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens. Love doesn’t yell at the kids to get out of the way, but is thankful they are there to be in the way. Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return but rejoices in giving to those who can’t. Love bears all things, believes all

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Slow Dance

Slow Dance

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?   You better slow down Don’t dance so fast Time is short The music won’t last   Do you run through each day on the fly When you ask “How are you?” do you hear the reply? When the day is done, do you lie in your bed With the next hundred chores running through your head?   You’d better slow down Don’t dance so fast Time is short The music won’t last   Ever told your child, We’ll do it tomorrow And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die ‘Cause you never had time to call and say “Hi”?   You’d better slow down Don’t dance so fast Time is short The music won’t last   When you run so fast to get somewhere You miss half the fun of getting there. When you worry and hurry through your day, It is like an unopened gift thrown away.   Life is not a race. Do take it slower Hear the music Before the song is over. — Author Unknown Meditation: And Jesus answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha,

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It Should Not Get to This

It Should Not Get to This

A man in Scotland calls his son in London the day before Christmas Eve and says, “I hate to ruin your day but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; 45 years of misery is enough.” “Dad, what are you talking about?” the son screams. “We can’t stand the sight of each other any longer,” the father says. “We’re sick of each other and I’m sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Leeds and tell her.” Frantically, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. “Like h..l they’re getting divorced!” she shouts, “I’ll take care of this!” She calls Scotland immediately, and screams at her father, “You are NOT getting divorced! Don’t do a single thing until I get there. I’m calling my brother back, and we’ll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don’t do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?!” She hangs up. The old man hangs up his phone at the other end and turns to his wife. “Sorted! They’re both coming for Christmas and they’re paying their own way.” While this anecdote may sound amusing, it also calls for sober reflection particularly in term of how we relate to our parents. Imagine how many times they must have patiently attended to our calls even for the

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Family

Family

I ran into a stranger as he passed by, “Oh excuse me please” was my reply.   He said, “Please excuse me too; I wasn’t watching for you.”   We were very polite, this stranger and I. We went on our way and we said goodbye.   But at home a different story is told, How we treat our loved ones, young and old.   Later that day, cooking the evening meal, My son stood beside me very still.   When I turned, I nearly knocked him down. “Move out of the way,” I said with a frown.   He walked away, his little heart broken. I didn’t realize how harshly I’d spoken.   While I lay awake in bed, God’s still small voice came to me and said,   “While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, but the family you love, you seem to abuse.   Go and look on the kitchen floor, You’ll find some flowers there by the door.   Those are the flowers he brought for you. He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.   He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise, you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.”   By this time, I felt very small, And now my tears began to fall.   I quietly went

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