WEEKLY FOOD FOR THOUGHT

MAY ARCHIVES

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(Friday, May 30)

A lady goes into her local ice cream store, walks up to the counter, orders a double dip cone, and opens her purse to get the money to pay. Just then she hears a noise and turns around....and finds herself face to face with Paul Newman. (for you young whippersnappers who have no idea who he is, he was the sex symbol of my generation). It seems Paul was in this small town shooting a movie and had decided he wanted some ice cream. As she looks into his big blue eyes, her knees turn to putty. She manages to turn back around, pay the clerk, and make it out to her car.

As she is getting into the car she realizes that she doesn't have her ice cream cone. She sits there for a couple of minutes trying to compose herself and then heads back into the ice cream shop.

Once again she finds herself face to face with Paul Newman. He smiles at her and asks her if she is looking for her ice cream cone. As you might have guessed, she is again too flustered to speak, but she does manage to nod her head up and down.

"Well, ma'am, Mr. Newman says. You put it in your purse with your change."

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(Saturday, May 24)

The Master's Hand
sung by Annie Herring

I've seen pain and sorrow
While walking in the Light
And I have seen good men losing the fight

I have seen babies die
I've been there when the widow cries
And I have learned that joy returns in the morning light

While holding to the Master's Hand
Holding to the Master's Hand
I can go throughout the day
And what comes my way
Won't fill me with fear
While holding to the Master's Hand
He helps me to understand
Though I am so weak and frail
And sometimes fail to see His hand
He's holding on to me

When I start to labor
I look upon my past
And there I find His favor
I am not downcast

For He's taught me to walk by faith
Whenever storms arise
To look up and seek His face
Watch the dark clouds fly

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(Saturday, May 17)
(chuckle time)

There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer.

When asked to define "great," he said, "I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream in disbelief, cry in despair, howl in pain, and vent their anger in ways they've never dreamed of!"

He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.

received from Mikey's Funnies

*****

Definitions:

Arbitrator:
A cook who leaves Arby's to work at McDonald's.

Bernadette:
The act of torching your mortgage.

Parasites:
What you see from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Primate:
Removing your spouse from in front of the TV.

Subdued:
A guy who works on submarines.

printed in Reader's Digest - April 2003
submitted by Edward Thompson

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(Friday, May 16)

I was sitting at a stop light this morning. The lady in front of me was going through papers on the seat of her car, and when the light changed to green she did not obey its command - a green light is a commandment - NOT a suggestion.

When the light turned to red, and she had still not moved, I began (with my windows up) screaming epithets and beating on my steering wheel. My expressions of distress were interrupted by a policeman, gun drawn, tapping on my window. Against my protestations of, "You can't arrest me for hollering in my car," he ordered me into the back seat of his.

After about two hours in a holding cell, the arresting officer advised me I was free to go. I said, "I knew you couldn't arrest me for what I was yelling in my own car. You haven't heard the last of this."

The officer replied, "I didn't arrest you for shouting in your car. I was directly behind you at the light. I saw you screaming and beating your steering wheel, and I said to myself, "What a jerk. But there is nothing I can do to him for throwing a fit in his own car. Then I noticed the 'Cross' hanging from your rear view mirror, the bright yellow 'Choose Life' license tag, the 'Jesus is Coming Soon' bumper sticker, and the Fish symbol, and I thought you must have stolen the car."

...and we may be the only bible some people ever read.......

received online from Inspiration List

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(Thursday, May 15)

Speaking of motherhood, that is exactly what has been occupying the hours of this lady. Older daughter and friends have been here for a visit and younger daughter has been moved home from college for the summer. Life seems to have pushed the "fast forward" button this week...I shall return next week...hopefully daily! (well...almost) Hope May is treating you kindly...and hope it's cooler wherever you are than here!!!! We are having record breaking heat...was 108 here yesterday...YUK!

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(Sunday, May 11)

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY !!!!!
Being A Mother

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."

"We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years -- not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a Mother.

Author Unknown

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(Friday, May 9)

THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES

Six married men will be dropped on an island with 1 car and 4 kids each, for 6 weeks. Each kid plays two sports and either takes music or dance classes. There is no access to fast food.

Each man must take care of his 4 kids, keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, etc. The men only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done. There is only one TV between them and there is no remote.

The men must shave their legs and wear makeup daily, which they must apply themselves, either while driving or while making four lunches. They must attend weekly PTA meetings; clean up after their sick children at 300 a.m.; make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4-year-old to eat a serving of peas.

The kids vote them off the island, based on performance.

The last man wins only if he has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over again for the next 18-25 years...eventually earning the right to be called "Mother."

[forwarded by Marv Penner to Mikey's Funnies]

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(Thursday, May 8)

"The problem is that many parents try to play Holy Spirit for their kids. We try to bring conviction to them, but instead we bring condemnation. It is the job of the Holy Spirit to convict. That is why many kids become resentful when parents try to force God on them. We have to give them to God, and then take our hands off. It is like wrapping a package up and putting on a label, and then being able to send it, without our special directions of where to go, but letting God put the address on the label, or on that life. Can you love your child and pray for him and let God do with his life what He wants to do? Minus your instructions? Can you be content to train up your child and then let him go? If you can do that, you can enjoy this Mother's Day, knowing that your child is God's property."

from Fresh Elastic for Stretched Out Moms by Barbara Johnson

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(Wednesday, May 7)

"Somebody" Said...

"Somebody" said...a Mother is an unskilled laborer.
"Somebody" never gave a squirmy infant a bath.

"Somebody" said...it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you've had a baby.
"Somebody" doesn't know that once you're a mother, normal is history.

"Somebody" said...being a Mother is boring.
"Somebody" never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.

"Somebody" said...if you're a "good" Mother, your child will "turn out good."
"Somebody" thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee.

"Somebody" said..."good" Mothers never raise their voices.
"Somebody" never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window.

"Somebody" said...you don't need an education to be a Mother.
"Somebody" never helped a fourth grader with his math.

"Somebody" said you can't love the fifth child as much as you love the first.
"Somebody" doesn't have more than one child.

"Somebody" said...you know how to be a Mother by instinct.
"Somebody" never took a 3-year-old shopping.

"Somebody" said...."good" Mothers never yell at their kids.
"Somebody's" child never sent a baseball through a neighbor's picture window.

"Somebody" said...a Mother always adores her children.
"Somebody" never tried to comfort a colicky baby at 3am.

"Somebody" said...a Mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back.
"Somebody" never organized seven giggling Brownies into a cookie-selling brigade.

"Somebody" said...the hardest part of being a Mother is labor and delivery.
"Somebody" never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of kindergarten; or on a plane to go to war.

"Somebody" said...a Mother can stop worrying after her child gets married.
"Somebody" doesn't know that marriage adds a new son- or daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings.

"Somebody" said...a Mother's job is done when her last child leaves home.
"Somebody" never had grandchildren.

"Somebody" said your mother knows you love her, so you don't have to tell her.
"Somebody" isn't a mother.

received from Mikey's Funnies

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(Friday, May 2)
(On Wednesday of this week, a dear man from our church died from a brain tumor. He was only 48 years old and will be mourned by his wife, 3 children, and a community of friends. Although I did not know him personally, I can tell by the outpouring of love at the benefit supper that he has had a tremendous impact on the lives of those around him and that he was loved by all.)

IN LOVING MEMORY
~GARY JONES~

One More Day
sung by Diamond Rio
Written by Steven Dale Jones and Bobby Tomberlin
(© Sound Island Publishing/Mike Curb Music/EMI April Music.)
From "One more Day", ©, 2001, Enhanced.

Last night I had a crazy dream.
A wish was granted just for me, it could be for anything.
I didn't ask for money, or a mansion in Malibu.
I simply wished, for one more day with you.

One more day, one more time.
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied.
But then again, I know what it would do.
Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you.
One more day.

First thing I'd do, is pray for time to crawl.
I'd unplug the telephone, keep the TV off.
I'd hold you every second, say a million I love you's;
That's what I'd do, with one more day with you.

One more day, one more time.
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied.
But then again, I know what it would do.
Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you.

One more day, one more time.
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied.
But then again, I know what it would do.
Leave me wishing still, for one more day.....

Leave me wishing still, for one more day.....

With you.

One more day. (One more day.)

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