When you are writing out your gift giving lists, here are a few gifts that come straight from the heart and will mean more than any gift that you can purchase in a store.

THE GIFT OF LISTENING...
But you must REALLY listen.
No interrupting, no daydreaming,
no planning your response.
Just listening.

THE GIFT OF AFFECTION...
Be generous with appropriate hugs,
kisses, pats on the back, and handholds.
Let these small actions demonstrate the
love you have for family and friends.

THE GIFT OF LAUGHTER...
Clip cartoons.
Share articles and funny stories.
Your gift will say, "I love to laugh with you."

THE GIFT OF A WRITTEN NOTE...
It can be a simple
"Thanks for the help" note or a full sonnet.
A brief, handwritten note may be remembered
for a lifetime, and may even change a life.

THE GIFT OF A COMPLIMENT...
A simple and sincere,
You look great in red," "You did a super job,"
or "That was a wonderful meal"
can make someone's day.

THE GIFT OF A FAVOR...
Every day, go out of your way
to do something kind.

THE GIFT OF SOLITUDE...
There are times when we want nothing better
than to be left alone.
Be sensitive to those times and give
the gift of solitude to others.

THE GIFT OF A CHEERFUL DISPOSITION...
The easiest way to feel good is
to extend a kind word to someone.
Really, it's not that hard to say,
Hello or Thank You.

~♥♥~ The Gift Of A Name ~♥♥~

"A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches."  Proverbs 22:1 

This is a story about . . . . ME!

Happy Anniversary

to the love of my life!

It has been an awesome 29 years!

I Love You Jack!

When i hear you stop and laugh out loud
When you're fallin' fast asleep
When you're in the middle of a crowd
When you're lyin' close to me
When i hear you softly say my name
When you're high and when you're low
When you don't need me to explain
'cause you already know
When you smile that way
I know, every night and day

That's when i love you, when i need you
When i care about you
That's when i know without a doubt
That i can't live without you
Everyday i find another reason
Every season we go through
And every little thing you do
That's when i love you

When you're drivin' in your car
When you dance and sing to the radio
When you're walkin' underneath the stars
Anywhere and everywhere you go
When you're dressed up or you're dressed down
When you're talkin' on the phone
With a million people all around
Or when you're all alone
When you're near, or you're far
You're in my heart no matter where you are

That's when i love you, when i need you
When i care about you
That's when i know without a doubt
That i can't live without you
Everyday i find another reason
Every season we go through
And every little thing you do
That's when i love you

When you smile that way
I know, every night and day

That's when i love you, when i need you
When i care about you
That's when i know without a doubt
That i can't live without you
Everyday i find another reason
Every season we go through
And every little thing you do
That's when i love you

That's when i love you, when i need you
When i care about you
That's when i know without a doubt
That i can't live without you
Everyday i find another reason
Every season we go through
And every little thing you do
That's when i love you

That's when i love you

  There was this little girl sitting by herself in the park. Everyone passed by her and never stopped to see why she   looked so sad.   
  
  Dressed in a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just  sat and watched the people go by.  She never tried to speak.   She never said a word. Many people passed by her, but no one would stop. The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her eyes.

  Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people  is not a place for young children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the little girl's dress. It was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her.

 Deformities are a low blow to our society and, heaven forbid if  you make a step toward assisting someone who is different. As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more clearly. She was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello." The little girl acted shocked, and stammered a "hi"; after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad face said, "Because, I'm Different." I immediately said, "That you are!"; and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know." "Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent." She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got  to her feet and  Said, "Really?" "Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all the people walking  by."  She nodded her head yes, and smiled. With that she opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then she said "I am."

"I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was speechless -- sure I was seeing things. She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job here is done."

I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an Angel?" She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You're the only one that could see me," and then she was gone.

 And with that, my life was changed dramatically. So, when you think you're all you have, remember, your angel is always watching over you.

     Like the story says, we all need someone. . . .

   And, every one of our friends is an Angel in their own  way. The value of a friend is measured in the heart. My heart overflows with joy beyond measure because of all the dear  friends I have met here!

I hope your Guardian Angel watches over you always.

Do not forget to entertain strangers,

for by doing so, some people have

entertained angels without knowing

it.  Hebrews 13:2  NIV

"You probably missed it in the rush of news last week, but there was actually a report that someone in Pakistan had published in a newspaper an offer of a reward to anyone who killed an American, any American. So I just thought I would write to let them know what an American is, so they would know when they found one.

An American is English, French, Italian, Irish, German, Spanish, Polish, Russian or Greek. An American may be Mexican, African, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Australian, Iranian, Asian, Arab, Pakistani, or Afghan.  An American may also be a Cherokee, Osage, Blackfoot, Navajo, Apache, or one of the many other tribes known as native Americans.

An American is Christian, or he could be Jewish, Buddhist, or Muslim. In fact, there are more Muslims in America than in Afghanistan. The only difference is that in America they are free to worship as each of them chooses. An American is also free to believe in no religion. For that he will answer only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God.

An American is from the most prosperous land in the history of the world. The root of that prosperity can be found in the Declaration of Independence, which recognizes the God given right of each man and woman to the pursuit of happiness.

An American is generous. Americans have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need. When Afghanistan was overrun by the Soviet army 20 years ago, Americans came with arms and supplies to enable the people to win back their country. As of the morning of September 11, Americans had given more than any other nation to the poor in Afghanistan. The best products, the best books, the best music, the best
food, the best athletes.

 Americans welcome the best, but they also welcome the least. The national symbol of America welcomes your tired and your poor, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, the homeless, tempest tossed. These in fact are the people who built America. Some of them were working in the Twin Towers in the morning of September 11, earning a better life for their families. [I've been told that the people in the Towers were from at least 30, and maybe many more, other countries, cultures, and first languages, including those that aided and abetted the terrorists.]

So you can try to kill an American if you must. Hitler did. So did General Tojo, and Stalin, and Mao Tse-Tung, and every bloodthirsty tyrant in the history of the world. But, in doing so you would just be killing yourself.

Because Americans are not a particular people, from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American.

So look around you. You may find more Americans in your land than you thought were there. One day they will rise up and overthrow the old, ignorant, tired tyrants that trouble too many lands. Then those lands, too, will join the community of free and prosperous nations.

And America will welcome them!

(author unknown)

click here to hear John Wayne narrate

" America ~ Why I Love Her "

Dad, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK.
 
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK. He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.
 
"I didn't mean to disturb you, Dad, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.
 
"Have you ever looked at your hands?" he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"
 
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. 
 
Dad smiled and related this story: 
 
Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. 
 
They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. 
 
They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life.  They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.  They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn daughters. 
 
Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughters down the aisle. 
 
They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life. 
 
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ. 
 

My thoughts ~

I will never look at my hands the same again.  When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my grandchildren and my husband I will thank Dad. I know he will be stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God when he is called home. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

Happy Father's Day Dad!

You are a true gift to me from the Father above! It is such a gift to be able to spend each day with you as you come and have coffee with me. It is the highlight of my day. You are the sunshine in my life. My world shines because you are in it! 

This is a truly BEAUTIFUL piece. Please read this at a slow pace, digesting every word and in leisure...do not hurry....this is a treasure! For those fortunate enough to still be blessed with your Mom, this is beautiful. For  those of us who aren't, this is even more beautiful. For  those  who are moms, you'll love this. 

          ~♥♥~                  

The young mother set her foot on the path of life. "Is this the
long way?" she asked. And the guide said: "Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning." But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this."

~♥♥~ 
Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come." And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children," A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and when they reached the top they said, "Mother, we would not have done it without you."

~♥♥~

And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave them courage. Today, I 've given them strength." And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth, clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped and stumbled, and the mother said: "Look up. Lift your eyes to the light. " And the children looked and saw above the clouds an everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the darkness. And that night the Mother said, "This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God."

~♥♥~
And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years,and the mother grew old and she was little and bent. But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage. And when the way was rough, they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill, and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And mother said, "I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them."
And the children said, "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates." And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said: "We cannot see her but she is with us  still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence!

~♥♥~

 Your Mother is always with you.... She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street; she's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks; she's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop. She's the place you came from, your first home; and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love and your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you.
Not time, not space... not even death!

~♥♥~

Mom~

Although you have gone through the gate, your presence will be with me always! I have become the person I am today because of you. You were God's greatest gift to me. I am proud to be your daughter. Your memory will be with me until the day  I too come to the gate and once again we will be together, this time, for all eternity!

Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind.  At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him.
 
He would squirm in his seat, and make grunting noises.  At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain.  Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.
 
One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation.
 
As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school.  It isn't fair to him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems.  Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students."
 
Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke.
 
"Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby.  It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here."
 
Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window.  Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters.
 
After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class.  She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction.  Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write.  Why waste any more time trying?
 
As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought.
 
Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy.  From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.
 
"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris' face turned red.
 
She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please take your seat."
 
Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg.
 
"Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"
 
"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically-all except for Jeremy.  He listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises.
 
Had he understood what she had said about Jesus' death and resurrection?  Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.
 
That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it.  After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day.  She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.
 
The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs.
 
In the first egg, Doris found a flower. Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life," she said.  "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here."
 
A small girl in the first row waved her arm. "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.
 
The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly.  Yes, that's new life, too."
 
Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine."
 
Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it.  She explained that moss, too, showed life.
 
Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.
 
Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty
 
Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions.  If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another.
 
Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up.  "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?"
 
Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty."
 
He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."
 
Time stopped.  When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was empty?"
 
"Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up."
 
The recess bell rang.  While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away.
 
Three months later, Jeremy died.  Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty.

This was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend.

Dear Bertha,

I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the  garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.

I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.

I'm guessing; I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that today is a special day!

Thoughts~

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance!