THOUGHTS

THE STATION

Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyilic vision.We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing,of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a powerplant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides our dreams will come true, and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damming the minutes for loitering. Waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.

"When we reach that station, that will be it!" we cry.

"When I`m 18."

"When I buy a new 450sl Mercedes Benz!"

"When I put the last kid through college."

"When I have paid off the mortgage!"

"When I get a promotion."

"When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!"

Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is in the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us. "Relish the moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled with psalm 118:24: "This is the day which the lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." It isn`t the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday, and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today. So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.

Dad

As I get older I realize more and more how my views and opinions of life were not realistic. Although you as my father and friend tried to steer me down the right path as a good loving Father would, I would have my own ideas and think I knew more.

As I think back to those days, I can only remember how I was not the son I really should have been to you, for I was more worried about my wants and needs over yours. Then I start thinking about the times you were there for me. I remember you taking me to Cub Scouts, and making a cool cake together, I remember you having uncle Bob make me my first cool bike ever, with the long sissy bar and the shock on the front. I remember the time that you took me hiking down in the powder hole. I remember the time you and I put my first model together (56 Ford).

I remember the time that we flew a kit together, that was the first time I ever saw you run so fast.

I remember the times that we played Chess together.

I remember the time that we cleaned up the van when you first got it and we went for a ride together and you took me up to the Wise mansion.

I remember the time when we stayed up all night talking and listening to music in the stereo room.

I remember the time that I started lifting and you worked out with me over at the gym.

I remember the time when I lost my first girlfriend and you were there for me to ease my pain and to help me be strong dealing w/ bad times.

I remember the times you would always tell me how proud you were of me when I would work a part time job, or just doing the right things.

I remember that you were the first person I seen when my best friend died, that wasn’t luck!

I remember all the subtle suggestions as I got older and sometimes confused that would help me realize what I was doing wrong.

These are all qualities of a good and loving Father, that I thank God every night of having.

I have all of these priceless memories in my heart, it is who I am. For I am the person you have molded me into. So the old saying is, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” that’s only true if you are a good father! And Dad that you always were and still is today.

I wanted to write you this letter to let you know how much I truly love you and look up to you.

I have always admired you, respected you and wished to be just like you.

I’m sorry I don’t see you as often as I would like, and part of that blame is my own due to the challenges I take on in which there is a price to pay for all decisions we make in life, and now I’m realizing it.

So when there comes a time when you think you could have been better, look around Dad, your family, your success as a Father was no accident!

I love you!!

Jimmy

LOOK AT ME

LOOK AT ME This poem was found in a Jewish nursing home after an elderly woman had died. The poem was unsigned.

Whadda you see nurse, whadda you see? What are you thinking when you're looking at me? A crabby old woman, not very wise. With uncertain habits and far away eyes. Who dribbles her food and makes no reply. When you say in a loud voice, I wish you would try Who, resisting or not lets you do just as you will.

Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes nurse, you are not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still. As I do your bidding and I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother, and sisters and brothers who love one another. I'm a young girl of sixteen with wings on my feet, dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet. At twenty-five, now I have young of my own who need me to build a secure happy home. I'm a woman of thirty and my young grow so fast, bound to each other with ties that should last. At forty my young sons have grown and have gone, but my man is beside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty once more, babies cling round my knee, and again we know loved ones, my lover and me.

Dark times are upon me, my husband is dead, I look at the future and I shudder with dread.

My young now are raising young of their own, and I think of the years and the love I have known. But I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel, it's her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, and there now is a stone where there once was a heart. But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, and accept the dark facts that nothing will last. So open your eyes nurse, open and see, not crabby old woman, look closer, See ME !

IF THOSE LIPS COULD ONLY SPEAK

He stood in a beautiful mansion surrounded by riches I'm told and gazed at a beautiful picture that hung in a frame of gold. T'was a picture of a lady so beautiful young and fair, to the beautiful life like features he murmured in sad despair.

If those lips could only speak and those eyes could only see, if those beautiful golden tresses were there in reality. Could I only take your hand as I did when you took my name, but it's only a beautiful picture in a beautiful golden frame...

He sat there and gazed at the painting then slumbered forgetting the pain and there in that mansion sat sadly he stood by her side again. Then his lips they softly murmured the name of his once sweet bride, with his eyes fixed on the picture he woke from his dream and cried...

How Sad It Is

How sad it is to know I'll never hear from you. I'll never get to sit and talk The way we used to do.

How sad it is to know You'll not be coming home, And being here without you Only makes me feel more alone.

How sad it is to know That time will still pass by; The moon will rise at night And the sun will rise high in the sky.

How sad it is to know Others have shared my pain; They've lost loved ones of their own, Yet somehow they love again.

How sad it is to know I'll never hear from you. I'll never get to sit and talk The way we used to do.

AN OPEN LETTER FROM GOD

Paul Harvey, American radio's premier commentator, read this on his Noon News, Saturday, May 16, 1998. The response was overwhelming.

Harvey's Chicago office was inundated by phone calls, mail and faxes, as were the offices at The Big 550.

Now, for the first time, here's the full text.

An Open Letter from God:

My dear children, and believe Me, that is all of you, I consider Myself a pretty patient guy. I mean, look at the Grand Canyon. It took millions of years to get it right. And about evolution? Boy, nothing is slower than designing that whole Darwinian thing to take place cell by cell and gene by gene.

And I have been patient through your fashions, your civilizations, wars and schemes, and the countless ways that you take Me for granted until you get yourselves into big trouble again and again.

I want to let you know about some of the things that started ticking Me off. First of all, your religious rivalries are driving Me up a wall. Enough already! Let’s get one thing straight. These are your religions, not Mine. I’m the whole enchilada. I’m beyond ‘em all.

Every one of your religions claims that there’s only one of Me, which, by the way, is absolutely true, but in the very next breath each religion claims that it’s My favorite one. And each claims its bible was written personally by Me, and that all of the other bibles are man-made. Oh, Me. How do I ever begin to put a stop to such complicated nonsense?

All right, listen up now. I am your Father and Mother, and I don't play favorites among My children.

Also, I hate to break it to you, but I don't write. My longhand is awful, and I’ve always been more of a doer anyway. So ALL of your books, including those bibles, were written by men and women. They were inspired men and women, they were remarkable people, but they also made mistakes here and there. And I made sure of that, so that you would never trust a written word rather than your own living heart.

You see, one human being to Me -- even a bum on the street -- is worth more than all of the holy books in the world. That’s just the kind of a guy I am. My spirit is not an historical thing. It’s alive right now, right now, as fresh as your next breath. Holy books and religious rites are sacred and powerful, but they are not more so than the least of you. They were only meant to steer you in the right direction, not to keep you arguing with eachother, and certainly not to keep you from trusting your own personal connection with Me.

Which brings Me to My next point about your nonsense. You act like I need you and your religions to stick up for Me or win souls for My sake. Please, don't do Me any favors. I can stand quite well on My own, thank you. I don't need you to defend Me, I don't need constant credit. I just want you to be good to eachother.

And another thing. I don't get all worked up over money or politics, so stop dragging My name into your dramas. For example, I swear to Me that I never threatened Oral Roberts. I never rode is any of Rajneesh’s Rolls Royces and I never told Pat Robertson to run for president, and I have never had a conversation with Jim Bakker, Jerry Falwell or Jimmy Swaggart. Of course, come Judgement Day, I certainly intend to.

Now the thing is, I want you to stop thinking of religion as some sort of a loyalty pledge to Me. The true purpose of religion is so that YOU can become more aware of ME, not the other way around. Believe Me, I know you already. I know what’s in each of your hearts, and I love you anyway with no strings attached. So, lighten up and enjoy Me. That’s what religion’s best for.

What you seem to forget is how mysterious I am. You look at the petty differences in your scriptures and you say, “Well, if this is the truth, then that can’t be.” But instead of trying to figure out My paradoxes and unfathomable nature -- which, by the way, you never will -- why not open your hearts to the simple, common threads of every religion? You know what I’m talking about. Play nice with each other. Love and respect everyone. Be kind. Even when life is scary or confusing, take courage and be of good cheer, for I’m always with you.

And learn how to be quiet, so that you can hear My still, small voice. I don't like to shout. Leave the world a better place by living your life with dignity and gracefulness, for you are My own child. Hold back nothing from life, for the parts of you that can die surely will, and the parts that can’t, won’t. So don't worry, be happy. (I stole that last line from Bobby McFerrin, but Who gave it to him in the first place?)

Simple stuff now. Why do you keep making it so complicated? It’s like you’re always looking for an excuse to be upset. And I am very tired of being your main excuse. Do you think whether you call Me God, or Yahweh, or Jehovah, Allah, Wakatonka, Brahma, Father, Mother, even the Void of Nirvana? Do you think I care which of My Special Children you feel closest to -- Jesus, Mary, Buddha, Krishna, Mohammed or any of the others? You can call Me and My Special Ones any names you choose, if only you will go about My business of loving one another as I love you. How can you keep neglecting something so simple?

No, I am not telling you to abandon your religions. Enjoy your religions, honor them, learn from them, just as you should enjoy, honor, and learn from your parents. But do you walk around telling everyone that your parents are better than theirs? Your religion, like your parents, may always have the most special place in your heart. I don't mind that at all. And I don't want you to combine all of the great traditions into One Big Mess. Each religion is unique for a reason. Each has a unique style so that people can find the best path for themselves. But My Special Children -- the ones that your religions revolve around -- all live in the same place in My heart, and they get along perfectly, I assure you.

The clergy must stop creating a myth of sibling rivalry where there is none. My blessed children of Earth, the world has grown too small for your pervasive religious bigotries and confusion. The whole planet is now connected by air travel, satellite dishes, telephones, fax machines, rock concerts, diseases and mutual needs and concerns. Get with the program! If you really want to help me celebrate the birthday of My Son Jesus, then commit yourselves to figuring out how to feed your hungry and clothe your naked, and protect your abused and shelter your poor. And just as important, make your own everyday life a shining example of kindness and good humor. I’ve given you all the resources you need, if only you abandon your fear of each other and begin living, and loving and laughing together.

Finally, My children everywhere, remember whose birthday you honor on what you call Christmas Day, December 25th, and the fearlessness with which He chose to live and die. As I love Him, so do I love each of you.

Now, I am not really ticked off. Not really. I just wanted to grab your attention because I hate to see you suffer. But I gave you free will, so what can I do now other than try to influence you through reason, persuasion, and a little old-fashioned guilt and manipulation?

After all, you know I am the original Jewish Mother. I just want you to be happy, and I’ll sit in the dark. I really am, indeed I swear, with you always. Always. Trust in Me.

Your One and Only, God

MY DAD

My dad is my hero, and this you should agree.

He`s rugged and strong when he`s needed to be.

My dad is sensative, and he`s always kind.

He`s always there for me and he never minds.

My dad is a father, teacher and friend.

He would stay by my side till the bitter end.

My dad is so caring he would sacrifice all.

With him by my side I could never fall.

My dad is a hero and this you should agree.

He`s not just a hero to one, two or three.

My dad is a hero to four more like me.

By my son Tucker

In Memory Of...

NATALIE BROOKS, STUDENT AGE 12

PAIGE ANN HERRING, STUDENT AGE 12

STEPHANIE JOHNSON, STUDENT AGE 12

BRITTANY R, VARNER, STUDENT AGE 11

SHANNON WRIGHT, TEACHER AGE 32

This is in memory of the children and teacher killed in the shooting on Tuesday, March 24,1998 in Jonesboro, Arkansas. This arrived in my email on Wednesday ~ June 10, 1998. Please save it to your hard drive and send it to everyone you know because this is how it was sent to me and if this gets to the town of Jonesboro, I'm sure they will be grateful to know that we all care.

A PRAYER FOR THE CHILDREN

We pray for the children: who sneak popsicles before supper, who erase holes in math workbooks, who can never find their shoes.

And we pray for those: who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire, who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers, who never "counted potatoes", who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead, who never go to the circus, who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for the children: who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions, who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.

And we pray for those: who never get dessert, who have no safe blanket to drag behind them, who watch their parents watch them die, who can't find any bread to steal, who don't have any rooms to clean up, whose picture aren't on anybody's dresser, whose monsters are real.

We pray for children: who spend all their allowance before Tuesday, who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food, who like ghost stories, who shove dirty clothes under the bed who never rinse out the tub, who get visits from the tooth fairy, who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool, who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone, whose tears we sometimes laugh at and those smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those: whose nightmares come in the daytime, who will eat anything, who have never seen a dentist, who aren't spoiled by anybody, who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep, who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for the children: who want to be carried and for those who must, who we never give up on and for those who will grab the hand of anybody... kind enough to offer it.

“I ASK GOD”

I asked God to take away my pain. God said, No.... It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole. God said, No.... Her spirit was whole; her body was only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience. God said, No.... Patience is a by-product of tribulations, it isn't granted, it is earned.

I asked God to give me happiness. God said, No.... I give you blessings; Happiness is up to you.

I asked God to spare me pain. God said, No.... Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to ME.

I asked God to make my spirit grow. God said, No.... You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. God said, No…. I will give you life so that you may enjoy all things.

I ask God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me. God said... Ahhhh, finally you have the idea.

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.