When updates are oh so rare.

Gave me a smile on an extremely hot tuesday afternoon. =)

Pass it on if you enjoyed reading it.

A Story Worth Sharing

Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes
about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students’ file into
the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the
day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his
long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the
first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just
coming into fashion then. I know in  my mind that it isn’t what’s on your
head but what’s in it that counts; but  on that day I was unprepared and my
emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… Very
strange.

Tommy turned out to be the “atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith
course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the
possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each
other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at
times a serious pain in the back pew. When he came up at the end of the
course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, “Do you think
I’ll ever find God?”  I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. “No!”
I said very emphatically. “Why not,”   he responded, “I thought that was the
product you were pushing.” I let him get five steps from the classroom door
and then called out, “Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find Him, but I am
absolutely certain that He will find you!”  He shrugged a little and left my
class. I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my
clever line — He will find you! At least I thought it was clever.

Later, I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful. Then a sad
report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search
him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very
badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of
chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first
time, I believe.

“Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often; I hear you are sick,” I blurted
out. “Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of
weeks.” Tommy replied. “Can you talk about it, Tom?” I asked. “Sure, what
would you like to know?” he replied. “What’s it like to be only twenty-four
and dying?” “Well, it could be worse.” “Like what?” “Well, like being fifty
and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze,
seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life..” I began to
look through my metal file cabinet under “S” where I had filed Tommy as
strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification,
God sends back into my life to educate me.)

“But what I really came to see you about,” Tom said, “is something you said
to me on the last day of class.” (He remembered!)     He continued, “I asked
you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised
me. Then you said, ‘But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even
though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My clever line.
He thought about that a lot!) . “But when the doctors removed a lump from my
groin and told me that it was malignant, that’s when I got serious about
locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really
began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did
not come out. In  fact, nothing happened.. Did you ever try anything for a
long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically
glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit…..

Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals
over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just
quit. I decided that I didn’t really care about God, about an after life, or
anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something
more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered
something else you had said:  “The essential sadness is to go through life
without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and
leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved
them.’”

So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when
I approached him. “Dad.” “Yes, what?” he asked without lowering the
newspaper. “Dad, I would like to talk with you.” “Well, talk.” “I mean. It’s
really important.” The newspaper came down three slow inches. “What is it?”
“Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that.” Tom smiled at me and said
it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy
flowing inside of him. “The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father
did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he
hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next
morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel
his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.”

“It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too,
and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other.
We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.” I was
only sorry about one thing — that I had waited so long. Here I was, just
beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to. “Then,
one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I
pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop,
‘C’mon, jump through C’mon, I’ll give you three days, three weeks.’”
“Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour….But the
important thing is that He was there. He found me…! You were right…..He
found me even after I stopped looking for Him.”

“Tommy,” I practically gasped, “I think you are saying something very
important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are
saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private
possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but
rather by opening to love.  You know, the Apostle John said that… He said:
“God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is
living in him.”

“Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a
real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come
into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just
told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn’t be half as effective as
if you were to tell it.” “Oooh.. I was ready for you, but I don’t know if
I’m ready for your class.” “Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready,
give me a call.” In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class,
that he wanted to do that for God and for me.. So we scheduled a date.

However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important
than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended
by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision.
He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the
ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. “I’m not going to make it to your
class,” he said. “I know, Tom.” “Will you tell them for me? Will you …tell
the whole world for me?” “I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best.” So,
to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about
God’s love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the
sunlit, verdant hills of heaven — I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.
It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

With thanks,

Rev. John Powell,

Professor,

Loyola University,
Chicago

This is an email that came to me at 12:32 from a friend.

 

Grandma’s Hands

JUST LOOK AT THE PICTURE BELOW FOR A MINUTE, AND THEN READ THE REST. IT WILL TOUCH YOU DEEPLY.
I was privileged to take a photo of "Five Generations of Women" shortly before my 93 year-old Grandmother passed away last year.
The photo shown below features the hands of my Grandmother, Mom, Sister, Niece and Great-Niece. While I can’t take credit for the idea, I was so happy to have had the suggestion & capture this moment. It inspired a friend of mine to do something similar, which turned out so beautiful it became a special keepsake, prior to her father’s passing.

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn’t move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn’t acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.

"I didn’t mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK." I explained to her.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," she 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 she was making.

Grandma 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 shrivelled 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 held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war."

"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special."

"They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse."

"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbours, 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 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."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma’s hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.

I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

When you receive this, say a prayer for the person who sent it to you, and watch God’s answer to prayer work in your life. Let’s continue praying for one another.

Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both.

Passing this on to one not yet considered a friend is something Christ would do.

And so, I’m passing this on to you

Its 09/09/09! Any plans for the night?

I know a couple of my friends were gearing up to give their loved ones a night to remember.

So what do people that are single and oh so available like me do?

We rot.

Grow lots of mushroom on our heads

But is that really what you wanna do?

Here’s some top choices of stuff to do for single people!

1. SLEEP LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SLEPT BEFORE! RAWR!

2. Get a group of single people and piss in a row

3. Get a friend to act like a durian

4. Go hunting for a rainbow

5. Clean up your dust catching pc.

6. Get rich and count your money!

7. Photoshop your friends

*Not limited to making ppl look nice

8. Get a dog

9. Let your female friend to anything to you. (Might be dangerous )

Eeeenie Minnnie Mynieee Moreee
I aint joey
Guess who am iiiii? Meee. =)

*runs*

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