Reminder to all of us...
One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well.
the animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tired to figure out what to do. Finally he decided the animal was old and the well needed to be covered up anyway, it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.
He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They allgrabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first,the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly.
Then, to everyone's amazement, he quieted down. A few shovelloads later, the farmer finally looked down the well and wasastonished at what he saw.
With every shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was
doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a stepup. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Prettysoon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edgeof the well and trotted off!
Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The
trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a
step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone.
We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping,
never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up!
CARLS GARDEN
Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well. Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs and drug activity. When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically un-assuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up. He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?" The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure", with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm,throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg. He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn't get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately", came the calm reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place. A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done. Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering. The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack. "Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time." The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the young man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What's this?" Car asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?" The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you", he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks fo straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street. Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago. He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn't know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl's garden as a lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden." The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said. The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him." The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it. One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday." "Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?" "Carl," he replied.
My boss was complaining during a staff meeting that he wasn't getting any respect. Later that morning he went out and got a small sign that read, "I'M THE BOSS". He then taped it to his office door. Later that same day, after returning from lunch, he found that someone had taped a note to his sign which said...."YOUR WIFE CALLED, SHE
WANTS HER SIGN BACK!"
John Wesley was a great preacher, but not everybody, of course, like him One day as Mr. Wesley was out walking, he was on a narrow path when he met a man who didn't like him. One of the men would have to step aside to
let the other pass. The man came charging ahead saying, "I never make way for fools!" John quickly stepped aside saying " I ALWAYS DO!"
Rejoice, and again I say...Rejoice.
A saintly woman who had suffered for weary months from a painful illness said to her pastor, "I have such a lovely robin that sings outside my window. In the early morings, as I lie here, he serenades me." Then a smile brightened her thin face as she added, " I love him because he sings in the rain."
That is the most beautiful thing about a robin. When a storm has silenced every other songbird, the robin sings on. That is what the Christian should do. Anyone can sing in the sunshine. You and I should continue singing even when clouds pour out the rain...
FOR CHRIST IS WITH US.
WHAT DO ANGELS LOOK LIKE?
Like the little old lady who returned your wallet yesterday.
Like the taxi driver who told you that your eyes light up.
Like the small child who showed you the wonder in simple things. Like the poor man who offered to share his lunch with you. Like the rich man who showed you that it really is all possible, if only you believe. Like the stranger who just happened to come along when you had lost your way. Like the friend who touched your heart when you didn't think you had one to touch Angels come in all sizes and shapes, all ages and skin types. Some with freckles, some with dimples, some with wrinkles some without. They come disguised as friends, enemies, teachers students, lovers and fools. They don't take life too seriously, they travel light. They leave no forwarding address, they ask nothing in return. They wear sneakers with gossamer wings, they get a deal on dry cleaning.
They are hard to find when your eyes are closed, but they
are everywhere you look, when you choose to see.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
PATRIOTIC JOKE!
The minister was preoccupied with thoughts of how he was going to ask the congregation
to come up with more money than they had anticipated for the building fund, due to added expenses. Therefore, he was annoyed to find that the regular organist was sick, and a
substitute had been brought in at the last minute. The substitute asked what she would be required to play. "Here's a copy of the service," he said impatiently. "You'll have to think
of something to play after I make the announcement about the finances." When the time came for him to make his plea, he said, "Brothers and sisters, we are in great difficulty; the
roof repairs cost twice as much as we expected, and we need an additional $4,000 If you can pledge $100 or more, please stand." At that moment, the substitute organist played
"The Star Spangled Banner." And that is how the substitute became the regular organist.
It was a cold winter's day that Sunday. The parking lot to the Church was filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of
my car that fellow church members were whispering among themselves as they walked to the church.
As I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the church. He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long trench coat that was almost in shreds and a hat topped his head, pulled down so you could not see his face. He wore shoes that looked 30 years old, too small for his feet with holes all over them, his toes stuck out. I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by through the doors of the church. We all fellowshipped for a few minutes, and someone brought up the man laying outside. People
snickered and gossiped but no one bothered to ask him to come in, including me. A few moments later church began. We all waited for the Preacher to take
his place and to give us the Word, when the doors to the church opened. In came the homeless man walking down the aisle with his head down. People gasped and whispered and made faces. He made his way down
the aisle and up onto the pulpit he took off his hat and coat. My heart sank. There stood our preacher...he was the "homeless man." No one said a word. The preacher took his Bible and laid it on the stand. "Folks, I don't think I have to tell you what I am preaching about today." Then he started singing the words to this song. "If I can help somebody as I pass along. If I can cheer somebody with a word or song. If I can show somebody that he's
traveling wrong. Then my living shall not be in vain."
"IS YOUR LIVING IN VAIN?"
