Paid In Full

My little boy came into the kitchen this evening while I was fixing supper. He handed me a piece of paper he'd been writing on. After wiping my hands on my apron, I read it, and this is what it said:

For mowing the grass, $5.00

For making my own bed this week, $1.00

For going to the store $.50

For playing with baby brother while you went shopping, $.25

For taking out the trash, $1.00

For getting a good report card, $5.00

And for raking the yard, $2.00

Well, I looked at him standing there expectantly, and a thousand memories flashed through my mind. So, I picked up the paper, and turning it over, this is what I wrote:

For the nine months I carried you, growing inside me, No charge.

For the nights I sat up with you, doctored you, prayed for you, No charge.

For the time and the tears, and the cost through the years, No charge.

For the nights filled with dread, and the worries ahead, No charge.

For advice and the knowledge, and the cost of your college, No charge.

For the toys, food and clothes, and for wiping your nose, No charge.

Son, when you add it all up, the full cost of my love is No charge.
Well, when he finished reading, he had great big tears in his eyes. He looked up at me and he said, "Mama, I sure do love you."

Then he took the pen and in great big letters he wrote,

P A I D I N F U L L!

The Cracked Pot

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.
After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."
Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws to grace His Father's table. In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste.
So as we seek ways to minister together, and as God calls you to the tasks He has appointed for you, don't be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and allow Him to take advantage of them, and you, too, can be the cause of beauty in His pathway.
Go out boldly, knowing that in our weakness we find His strength, and that "In Him every one of God's promises is a Yes".

Discover A Momentary Miracle

Each moment is filled with miracles—very special treasures to discover. All we need to do to see miracles is look with a spirit of gratitude.
We usually think of "seeing" with our physical eyes. However, when we begin looking deeper than physical sight, we begin to see the perspectives with which we color our experiences. When we take notice of all that we have to be thankful for, miracles appear.
Today holds the chance to build new dreams, achieve new successes, and show new kindnesses to others. There will be moments in which to see, hear, touch, taste, feel, laugh, and love that we have never had before. Our senses and emotions are the windows through which we view these unrepeatable miracle moments.
Take a few moments just for yourself, and notice what you are experiencing. What do you see? Look around the room. Notice the different shapes, colors, lights, and shadows.
Listen to the sounds around you. Notice how you suddenly became aware of the loudness, textures, and rhythms of various sounds. Notice also any silences.
Notice the sensations of touch and the awareness of aliveness within you from head to toe. Become aware of any smells, or recall a favorite fragrance such as a bouquet of roses, and orchard filled with apple blossoms, or a rain-drenched pine forest.
Be aware, most of all, of the relationships and friendships that have added joy to your life. Notice the various qualities your thoughts give to each of your experiences.
Italian novelist Cesare Pavese (1908-1950), said, "We do not remember days, we remember moments."
If you were to list the greatest miracles in your life, what would they be? Think of those special moments you are grateful for. Then share a miracle with someone today.
May you continue to celebrate all the wonders and precious moments that make your life special!


~ Author Steve Brunkhorst.

Desiderata

Desiderata


Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become bitter or vain, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are the child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

~ Author Max Ehrmann

Desiderata Video

The Confused History of "Desiderata"

The author is Max Ehrmann, a poet and lawyer from Terre Haute, Indiana, who lived from 1872 to 1945. It has been reported that Desiderata was inspired by an urge that Ehrmann wrote about in his diary:
"I should like, if I could, to leave a humble gift -- a bit of chaste prose that had caught up some noble moods."
Around 1959, the Rev. Frederick Kates, the rector of St. Paul's Church in Baltimore, Maryland, used the poem in a collection of devotional materials he compiled for his congregation. (Some years earlier he had come across a copy of Desiderata.) At the top of the handout was the notation, "Old St. Paul's Church, Baltimore A.C. 1692." The church was founded in 1692.
As the material was handed from one friend to another, the authorship became clouded. Copies with the "Old St. Paul's Church" notation were printed and distributed liberally in the years that followed. It is perhaps understandable that a later publisher would interpret this notation as meaning that the poem itself was found in Old St. Paul's Church, dated 1692. This notation no doubt added to the charm and historic appeal of the poem, despite the fact that the actual language in the poem suggests a more modern origin. The poem was popular prose for the "make peace, not war" movement of the 1960s.
When Adlai Stevenson died in 1965, a guest in his home found a copy of Desiderata near his bedside and discovered that Stevenson had planned to use it in his Christmas cards. The publicity that followed gave widespread fame to the poem as well as the mistaken relationship to St. Paul's Church.
As of 1977, the rector of St. Paul's Church was not amused by the confusion. Having dealt with the confusion "40 times a week for 15 years," he was sick of it.
This misinterpretation has only added to the confusion concerning whether or not the poem is in the public domain.

By the way, Desiderata is Latin for "Things to be Desired."

The Eyes Of Love

A grandmother and a little girl whose face was sprinkled with bright red freckles spent the day at the zoo.
The children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.
“You’ve got so many freckles, there’s no place to paint!” a boy in the line cried.
Embarrassed, the little girl dropped her head. Her grandmother knelt down next to her. “I love your freckles,” she said.
“Not me,” the girl replied.
“Well, when I was a little girl I always wanted freckles” she said, tracing her finger across the child’s cheek. “Freckles are beautiful!”
The girl looked up. “Really?”
“Of course,” said the grandmother. “Why, just name me one thing that’s prettier than freckles.”
The little girl peered into the old woman’s smiling face. “Wrinkles,” she answered softly.

~ Author Unknown