Phillip's Egg

Phillip was born with Down syndrome. He was a pleasant child. . Happy it seemed but increasingly aware of the difference between himself and other children. Phillip went to Sunday School faithfully every week. He was in the third grade class with nine other eight-year olds. You know eight-year olds. And Phillip, with his differences, was not readily accepted. But his teacher was sensitive to Phillip and he helped this group of eight-year olds to 10\e each other as best they could, under the circumstances. They learned, they laughed, and they played together. And they really cared about one another, even though eight-year olds don't say they care about one another out loud.

But don't forget. There was an exception to all this. Phillip was not really a part of the group. Phillip did not choose, nor did he want to be different. He just was. And that was the way things were.

His teacher had a marvelous idea for his class the Sunday after Easter. You know those things that panty hose come in, the containers that look like great big eggs? The teacher collected ten of them. The children loved it when he brought them into the room and gave one to each child. It was a beautiful spring day, and the assignment was for each child to go outside, find the symbol for new life, put it into the egg, and bring it back to the classroom.

, would then open and share their new life symbols and surprises, one by one.

It was glorious. It was confusing. It was wild. They ran all around the church grounds, gathering their symbols, and returned to the classroom.

They put all the eggs on a table, and then the teacher began to open them. All the children gathered around the table. He opened one and there was a flower, and they ooh-ed and aah-ed. He opened another and there was a little butterfly. "Beautiful' the girls all said, since it is hard for eight-year

old boys to say 'beautiful.' He opened another and there was a rock and as third-graders will, some laughed, and some said, "That's crazy! How's a rock supposed to be like new life?" But the smart little boy who'd put it in there spoke up: "That's mine. And I knew all of you would get flowers and buds and leaves and butterflies and stuff like that. So I got a rock because I wanted to be different. And for me, that's new life." They all laughed.

/

The teacher said something about the wisdom of eight-year olds and opened the next one. There was nothing inside. The children, as eight-year olds will say, "That's not fair. That's stupid! Somebody didn't do it right." Then the teacher felt a tug on his shirt, and he looked down. "It's mine, Phillip said. It's mine."  And the children said, "You don't ever do things right, Philip. There's nothing there!"   "I did so do it right!" Phillip said. "I did do it right. The tomb is empty!"

Pine Tree Crosses

Spring on a Sunday afternoon we took one of our "nowhere" drives thru the country. My husband was quietly driving along some back roads. I was occupied in the front passenger seat watching out the window as the scenery went by.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my husband was straining to look out my window. This startled me, since his eyes should be on the road in front of him. I asked him what he was looking at out the windows, and he quietly replied, "Nothing. " He could have said he was looking for pine tree crosses for Easter. His eyes went back to the road in front of him.

After a few minutes, I looked over at my husband and noticed a tear running down his cheek. I asked him what was wrong. This time he told me, "I was just thinking about Pop and a story he had once told me." Of course, because it had to do with his Pop I wanted to know the story, so I asked him to share Pop's story with me.

Pine trees know when it's Easter...

Begin watching in the tops of the trees about two weeks before Easter. Usually about the first week of April, depending on the weather and the spring growth as to when the little yellow shoots will begin to sprout and then branch off and form a cross as shown in the photo. When Easter Sunday arrives you should be able to see the little crosses on top of the pine trees. As literally millions have seen the little crosses on top of the Pine Trees about 2 weeks before Easter....being another witness of HIS AMAZING GRACE to the human race!

Pass this on to your little children and teach them that the Pine Trees know when it's Easter! ~ Blessings And I, if I be lifted up from the earth,
will draw all men unto me. JOHN 12:32

He said, "When I was about 8 years old, Pop and I were out fishing and that's when he told me that the pine trees know when it is Easter."

I had no idea what he meant by that, so I pressed him for more information.

He continued on... "The Pine trees start their new growth in the weeks before Easter -- if you look at the tops of the Pine trees two weeks before Easter, you will see the yellow shoots. As the days get closer to Easter Sunday, the tallest shoot will branch off and form pine tree crosses for Easter. By the time Easter Sunday comes around, you will see that most of the Pine trees will have small yellow crosses on all of the tallest pine shoots."

I turned to look out the window and I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a week before Easter, and you could see all of the pine trees with the tall yellow shoots stretching to Heaven.

The tallest ones shone in the sunlight like rows of tiny golden crosses.

A Prayer For Time Management

Dear God,

Sometimes I find it hard to manage my time well. There is so much to do. Please help me to prioritize my daily activities to align with your will, your plan, your purpose, and to do what is most important as well as the little mundane tasks that must be done. Help me to know when to say "no" to projects and requests that come along that would overwhelm me or take away from what you want me to do. Please help me to always love and care for those lives you have entrusted to my care and circle of influence.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

The God Who Loves Boldly

God, I have a question: Why do you love your children? I don’t want to sound irreverent, but only heaven knows how much pain we’ve brought you. Why do you tolerate us? You give us every breath we breathe, but do we thank you? You give us bodies beyond duplication, but do we praise you?

Seldom.

We complain about the weather. We bicker about our toys. We argue over who gets which continent and who has the best gender. Not a second passes when someone, somewhere doesn’t use your name to curse a hammered thumb or a bad call by the umpire. (As if it were your fault.)

You fill the world with food, but we blame you for hunger. You keep the earth from tilting and the Arctic’s from thawing, but we accuse you of unconcern. You give blue skies, and we demand rain. You give rain, and we demand sun. As if we knew what was best, anyway.

We give more applause to a brawny ball-carrier than we do the God who made us. We sing more songs to the moon than to the Christ who saved us. We are a gnat on the tail of one elephant in the galaxy of Africa’s and yet we demand that you find us a parking place when we ask. And if you don’t give us what we want, we say you don’t exist. As if our opinion matters.

We pollute the world you loan us. We mistreat the bodies you gave us. We ignore the Word you sent us. And we killed the Son you became. We are spoiled babies who take and kick and pout and blaspheme.

You have every reason to abandon us.

I sure would! I would wash my hands of the whole mess and start over on Mars. But do you?

I see the answer in the rising of the sun. I hear the answer in the crashing of the waves. I feel the answer in the skin of a child.

Father, your love never ceases. Never. Though we spurn you, ignore you, disobey you, you will not change. Our evil cannot diminish your love. Our goodness cannot increase it. Our faith does not earn it anymore than our stupidity jeopardizes it. You don’t love me less if I fail. You don’t love me more if I succeed.

Your love never ceases.

How do we explain it?

The answer is found in the eyes of the mother. Why does she love her newborn? Because the baby is hers? Even more. Because the baby is her. Her blood. Her flesh. Her sinew and spine. Her hope. Her legacy. It bothers her not that the baby gives nothing. She knows a newborn is helpless, weak. She knows babies don’t ask to come into this world.

And God knows we didn’t either.

We are his idea. We are his. His face. His eyes. His hands. His touch. We are him. Look deeply into the face of every human being on earth and you will see his likeness. Though some appear to be distant relatives, they are not. God has no cousins, only children.

We are, incredibly, the body of Christ. And though we may not act like our Father, there is no greater truth than this: We are his. Unalterably. He loves us. Undyingly. There is nothing that can separate us from the love of Christ. (Rom. 8:38, 39)

Had God not said those words, I would be a fool to write them. But since he did, I’m a fool not to believe them. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. But how difficult to embrace this truth.

You think you’ve committed an act which places you outside his love. A treason. A betrayal. An aborted promise. You think, he would love you more if you hadn’t done it, right? You think he would love you more if you did more, right? You think if you were better, his love would be deeper, right?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

His love is not human. His love is not normal. His love sees your sin and loves you still. Does he approve of your error? No. Do you need to repent? Yes. But do you repent for his sake or yours? Yours. His ego needs no apology. His love needs no bolstering.

And he could not love you more than he does right now.

Beautiful Tax TIme

The assessor approached with weary tread

And knocked at a farmhouse door,

"Not much value here," he said,

The surroundings looked very poor.

The room he entered was cozy and warm,

The couple were aged and gray,

from his portfolio he selected a form

And said in a business way.

"I'm here to appraise your property, sir,

to determine your wealth, you see.

I'm the assessor, I might infer,

Will you answer some questions for me?'

"Oh, we have great riches," they quickly replied,

Their faces aglow with bliss,

The assessor awaited with pencil poised

Waiting the items to list.

"Our mutual love we value quite high,

It began such a long time ago;

Each passing year has strengthened the tie,

That increases the value, you know."

"Our health is more precious than silver and gold,

The Master has been very kind;

We enjoy each day as it comes and goes,

While so many in illness repine."

"We've quite a fortune in relics, too,

Any price you would name would be small:

A soft golden curl, a little worn shoe,

And the fingerprints there on the wall.

"We've a special interest in heaven, too,

She departed this life at three,

A jewel in heaven with value true,

That's quite an asset, you see."

The astonished assessor squirmed in his shoes

(He was finding it hard to relax),

"They truly have great riches," he mused,

"But not one thing I can tax."

"We have no possessions," they calmly explained,

"To lock in a vault of steel,

Possessions and riches are different, you see,

Our riches, the things that we feel."

"There's one more that is quite vital,

You may be a little surprised,

We hold a bloodbought title,

To a mansion in the skies."

The puzzled assessor bowed himself out

In utter exasperation,

The richest couple he had ever known

Were entirely exempt from taxation.

Aren't you glad that you are tax exempt on the things that are most important in life?

Where

There was a little boy,

On the week‘s first day,

Coming home from Sunday School

And wandering on the way.

He scuffed his shoes into the grass

And found a caterpillar.

He found a fluffy milkweed pod

And blew out all the filler.

A bird's nest in a tree above,

So wisely placed on high,

Was just another wonder

That caught his eager eye.

A neighbor watched his crooked course

And hailed him from the lawn.

He asked him where he'd been that day

And what was going on.

"I've been to Sunday School," he said

As he turned a piece of sod,

And picking up a worm, he smiled,

"l've learned a lot from Godl"

"That's a line way," the neighbor said,

"For a boy to spend his time.

"Now if you can tell me where God is,

l’ll give you a brand new dime."

Quick as a flash the answer came,

The boy said without complaint,

"l'lI give you a dollar, Mister,

If you can tell me where God ain't!"

Author Unknown

The Old Paths

I like the “Old Paths”, when Moms were at home.

Dads were at work. Brothers went into the army.
And sisters got married BEFORE having children!

Crime did not pay; Hard work did;
And people knew the difference.

Moms could cook; Dads would work; Children would behave..

Husbands were loving; Wives were supportive; And children were polite.

Women wore the jewelry; And Men wore the pants.
Women looked like ladies; Men looked like gentlemen; And children looked decent.

People loved the truth, And hated a lie;
They came to church to get IN, Not to get OUT!

Hymns sounded Godly; Sermons sounded helpful;
Rejoicing sounded normal; And crying sounded sincere.

Cursing was wicked; Drinking was evil; and divorce was unthinkable.

The flag was honored; America was beautiful; And God was welcome!

We read the Bible in public; Prayed in school; And preached from house to house
To be called an American was worth dying for;
To be called a Christian was worth living for;
To be called a traitor was a shame!

Sex was a personal word. Homosexual was an unheard of word, And abortion was an illegal word.

Preachers preached because they had a message;
And Christians rejoiced because they had the VICTORY!
Preachers preached from the Bible; Singers sang from the heart;
And sinners turned to the Lord to be SAVED!

A new birth meant a new life; Salvation meant a changed life; Following Christ led to eternal life.

Being a preacher meant you proclaimed the word of God;
Being a deacon meant you would serve the Lord;
Being a Christian meant you would live for Jesus;
And being a sinner meant someone was praying for you!

Laws were based on the Bible; Homes read the Bible;
And churches taught the Bible.

Preachers were more interested in new converts, Than new clothes and new cars.
God was worshiped; Christ was exalted; and the Holy Spirit was respected.

Church was where you found Christians on the Lord’s day, rather than in the garden,
on the creek bank, on the golf course, or being entertained somewhere else.

I still like the Old Paths the best ! Jeremiah 6:16

– - – poem “Old Paths” was written by a retired minister who lives in Tennessee.

Winter

You know, time has a way of moving quickly and catching you unaware of the passing years. It seems just yesterday that I was a young boy, just married and embarking on my new life with my wife.

And yet in a way, it seems like eons ago, and I wonder where all the years went. I know that I lived them all... And I have glimpses of how it was back then and of all my hopes and dreams...

But, here it is ...the winter of my life and it catches me by surprise. ..How did I get here so fast? Where did the years go and where did my babies go? And where did my youth go?

I remember well. ..seeing older people through the years and thinking that those older people were years away from me and that winter was so far off that I could not fathom it or imagine fully what it would be like...

But, here it is...my wife retired a few months ago and she's really getting gray....she moves slower and I see an older woman now.  She's in much better shape than me...but, I see the great change...

Not the one I married who was perky, young and strong...

but, like me, her age is beginning to show and we are now those older folks that we used to see and never thought we'd be.

Each day now, I find that just getting a shower is a real target for the day! And taking a nap is not a treat anymore ...it's mandatory!  Cause if I don't on my own free will... I just fall asleep where I sit!

And so, now I enter into this new season of my life unprepared for all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things.

But, at least I know, that though the winter has come, and I'm not sure how long it will last....This I know, that when it's over... I will enjoy the spring in the arms of my loving Father....and wait for my loved ones to come when their winter is over too...

So, if you’re not in your winter yet ...let me remind you, that it will be here faster than you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in your life please do it quickly!

For remember that scripture? .our life is but a vapor, it vanished away ...So, do what you can today, because you can never be sure whether this is your winter or not!

You have no promise that you will see all the seasons of your life... so, live for the Lord today and say all the things that you want your loved ones to remember...

When I Say I Am A Christian

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not shouting, "I am saved!" I'm whispering, "I get lost; That is why I chose this way."

When I say, "I am a Christian," I don't speak of this with pride. I'm confessing that I stumble And need Someone to be my Guide.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not trying to be strong. I'm professing that I'm weak, And pray for strength to carry on.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not bragging of success. I'm admitting I have failed And cannot ever pay the debt.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I'm not claiming to be perfect. My flaws are all too visible, But God believes I'm worth it.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I still feel the sting of pain. I have my share of heartaches, Which is why I speak His name.

When I say, "I am a Christian," I do not wish to judge. I have no authority; I only know I'm loved.

Have a blessed day in JESUS..

Small Miracles

Two years ago in downtown Denver my friend, Scott, and I saw something tiny and insignificant change the world, but no one else even seemed to notice. It was one of those beautiful Denver days. Crystal clear, no humidity, not a cloud in the sky. We decided to walk the ten blocks to an outdoor restaurant rather than take the shuttle bus that runs up and down the Sixteenth Street Mall. The restaurant, in the shape of a baseball diamond, was called The Blake Street Baseball Club. The tables were set appropriately on the grass infield. Many Colorful pennants and flags hung limply overhead.

As we sat outside, the sun continued to beat down on us, and it became increasingly hot. There wasn't a hint of a breeze, and heat radiated up from the tabletop. Nothing moved, except the waiters, of course. And they didn't move very fast, either.

After lunch Scott and I started to walk back up the mall. We both noticed a mother and her young daughter walking out of a card shop toward the street. She was holding her daughter by the hand while reading a greeting card. It was immediately apparent to us that she was so engrossed in the card that she did not notice a shuttle bus moving toward her at a good clip. She and her daughter were one step away from disaster when Scott started to yell.

He hadn't even gotten a word out when a breeze blew the card out of her hand and over her shoulder. She spun around and grabbed at the card, nearly knocking her daughter over. By the time she picked up the card from the ground and turned back around to cross the street, the shuttle bus had whizzed by her. She never even knew what almost happened. To this day two things continue to perplex me about this event: Where did that one spurt of wind come from to blow the card out of that young mother's hand? There had not been a whisper of wind at lunch or during our long walk back up the mall.

Secondly, if Scott had been able to get his words out, the young mother might have looked up at us as they continued to walk into the bus. It was the wind that made her turn back to the card -- in the one direction that saved her life and that of her daughter.

The passing bus did not create the wind. On the contrary, the wind came from the opposite direction. I have no doubt it was a breath from God protecting them both.

But the awesomeness of this miracle is that she never knew.

As we continued back to work, I wondered how God often acts in our lives without our being aware. The difference between life and death can very well be a little thing.