WISHING HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL OF YOU
FROM THE WOOD FAMILY
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Beautiful Pictures Leslie
It was fun going through the pictures you put on the web site.
We have had 3 new babies in our family in the last month.
David & Amy had a little girl, and John and Tara had a little girl. This makes 8 grandchildren for Carlene and Dennis. Craig and LeeAnn had a little boy. This makes the 2nd grandson for Bryan and Ruth.
Sunday, August 31, 2003
God at work
This will give you chills ... People always say how mean kids can
> > > > >>be, never how nice they can be.
> > > > >>This will either make you cry, give you cold chills or just leave
> > > > >>you cold, but it puts life into perspective!
> > > > >>At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled
> > > > >>children, the father of one of the school's students delivered a
> >
> > > > >>speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.
> >
> > > > >>After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a
> >
> > > > >>question.
> >
> > > > >>"Everything God does is done with perfection. Yet, my son Shay
> >
> > > > >>cannot
> >
> > > > >>learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as
> >
> > > > >>other
> >
> > > > >>children do.
> >
> > > > >>Where is God's plan reflected in my son?" The audience was stilled
> >
> > > > >>by the query. The father continued. "I believe," the father
> >
> > > > >>answered, "that when God brings a child like Shay into the world,
> >
> > > > >>an opportunity to realize the divine Plan presents itself and it
> >
> > > > >>comes in the way people treat that child."
> >
> > > > >> Then, he told the following story:
> >
> > > > >>Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay
> >
> > > > >>knew
> >
> > > > >>were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they will let me
> >
> > > > >>play?" Shay's father knew that the boys would not want him on
> >
> > > > >>their team. But the father understood that if his son were allowed
> >
> > > > >>to play it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging.
> >
> > > > >> Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked
> >
> > > > >>if
> >
> > > > >>Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his
> >
> > > > >>teammates.
> >
> > > > >>Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said, "We are
> >
> > > > >>losing by six runs, and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess
> >
> > > > >>he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the
> >
> > > > >>ninth inning." In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team
> >
> > > > >>scored a few runs but was still behind by three. At the top of the
> >
> > > > >>ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the outfield.
> >
> > > > >>Although no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be
> >
> > > > >>on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him
> >
> > > > >>from the stands.
> >
> > > > >> In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
> >
> > > > >>Now,
> >
> > > > >>with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was
> >
> > > > >>on base. Shay was scheduled to be the next at-bat. Would the team
> >
> > > > >>actually let Shay bat at this juncture and give away their chance
> >
> > > > >>to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone
> >
> > > > >>knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even
> >
> > > > >>know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.
> >
> > > > >>However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few
> >
> > > > >>steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to
> >
> > > > >>make contact.
> >
> > > > >> The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The
> >
> > > > >>pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly
> >
> > > > >>toward Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit
> >
> > > > >>a slow ground ball to the pitcher.
> >
> > > > >> The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have
> >
> > > > >>thrown
> >
> > > > >>the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that
> >
> > > > >>would
> >
> > > > >>have ended the game. Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw
> >
> > > > >>it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first
> >
> > > > >>baseman.
> >
> > > > >> Everyone started yelling, "Shay, run to first, run to first."
> >
> > > > >>Never
> >
> > > > >>in his life had Shay ever made it to first base. He scampered down
> >
> > > > >>the
> >
> > > > >>baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "run to second,
> >
> > > > >>run to second!" By the time Shay was rounding first base, the
> >
> > > > >>right fielder had the ball. He could have thrown the ball to the
> >
> > > > >>second baseman for a tag. But the right fielder understood what the
> >
> > > > >>pitcher's intentions had been, so he threw the ball high and far
> >
> > > > >>over the third baseman's head. Shay ran towards second base as the
> >
> > > > >>runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases towards home.
> >
> > > > >> As Shay reached second base, the opposing shortstop ran to him,
> >
> > > > >>turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "run to
> >
> > > > >>third!" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams were
> >
> > > > >>screaming, "Shay! run home!"
> >
> > > > >>Shay ran home, stepped on home plate and was cheered as the hero
> >
> > > > >>for hitting a "grand slam" and winning the game for his team. "That
> >
> > > > >>day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face,
> >
> > > > >>"the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of the Divine Plan
> >
> > > > >>into this world."
> >
Kids prayers
3-year-old, Reese: "Our Father, Who does art in heaven, Harold is His
name." " Amen"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
A little boy was overheard praying: "Lord, if you can't make me a
better
boy, don't worry about it. I'm having a real good time like I am."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Sunday school class was studying the Ten Commandments. They were
ready to discuss the last one. The teacher asked if anyone could tell
her
what it was. Susie raised her hand, stood tall, and quoted, "Thou shall
not
take the covers off the neighbor's wife."
------------------------------------------------------------------------Afte
r
the christening of his baby brother in church, Jason sobbed all
the way home in the back seat of the car. His father asked him three
times what was wrong. Finally, the boy replied, "That preacher said he
wanted us brought up in a Christian home, and I wanted to stay with you
guys."
------------------------------------------------------------------------I
had been teaching my three-year old daughter, Caitlin, the Lord's
Prayer for several evenings at bedtime, she would repeat after me the
lines from the prayer. Finally, she decided to go solo. I listened with
pride as she carefully enunciated each word, right up to the end of the
prayer: "Lead us not into temptation," she prayed, "but deliver us some
E-mail, Amen."
------------------------------------------------------------------------One
particular four-year-old prayed, "And forgive us our trash baskets
as we forgive those who put trash in our baskets."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Sunday school teacher asked her children, as they were on the way
to church service, "And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?" One
bright little girl replied, "Because people are sleeping."
------------------------------------------------------------------------Six-
year-old
Angie and her four-year-old brother Joel were sitting
together in church. Joel giggled, sang, and talked out loud. Finally,
his
big sister had had enough. "You're not supposed to talk out loud in
church."
"Why? Who's going to stop me?" Joel asked. Angie pointed to the back of
the
church and said, "See those two men standing by the door? they're
hushers."
------------------------------------------------------------------------A
mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin, 5, Ryan, 3. The
boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake. Their mother
saw
the opportunity for a moral lesson. "If Jesus were sitting here, He
would
say, 'Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.'" Kevin turned
to
his younger brother and said, "Ryan, you be Jesus!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------A
father was at the beach with his children when the four-year-old
son ran up to him, grabbed his hand, and led him to the shore, where a
seagull lay dead in the sand. "Daddy, what happened to him?" the son
asked.
"He died and went to Heaven," the Dad replied. The boy thought a moment
and
then said, "Did God throw him back down?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------A
wife invited some people to dinner. At the table, she turned to
their six-year-old daughter and said, "Would you like to say the
blessing?"
I wouldn't know what to say," the girl replied. "Just say what you hear
Mommy say," the wife answered. The daughter bowed her head and said,
"Lord,
why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?"
THE HUT
The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed fervently for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.
Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect himself from the elements, and to store his few possessions.
One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger.
"God, how could you do this to me?" he cried.
Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.
It is easy to get discouraged when things are going badly. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.
Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground; it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God. For all the negative things we have to say to ourselves, God has a positive answer for it:
We say: "It's impossible."
God says: "All thing are possible." (Luke 18:27)
We say: "I'm too tired."
God says: "I will give you rest." (Matt 11:28-20)
We say: "Nobody really loves me."
God says: "I love you." (John 3:16 - John 13:34)
We say: "I can't go on."
God says: "My grace is sufficient." (II Cor. 12:9 - Psalm 91:15)
We say: "I can't figure things out."
God says: "I will direct your steps." (Proverbs 3:5-6)
We say: "I can't do it."
God says: "You can do all things." (Phil 4:13)
We say: "It's not worth it."
God says: "It will be worth it." (Romans 8:28)
We say: "I can't forgive myself."
God says: "I forgive you." (I John 1:9 - Romans 8:1)
We say: "I can't manage."
God says: "I will supply all your needs." (Phil 4:19)
We say: "I'm afraid."
God says: "I have not given you a spirit of fear." (II Tim.1:7)
We say: "I'm always worried and frustrated."
God says: "Cast all your cares on ME." (I Peter 5:7)
We say: "I don't have enough faith."
God says: "I've given everyone a measure of faith." (Romans 12:3)
We say: "I'm not smart enough."
God says: "I give you wisdom." (I Cor. 1:30)
We say: "I feel all alone."
God says: "I will never leave you or forsake you." (Heb.13:5)
Consider passing this on...you never know who feels like their hut is burning today!
This is a test of the Emergency Friendship System
...a Friend does most or all of these...
(A)ccepts you as you are
(B)elieves in "you"
(C)alls you just to say "HI"
(D)oesn't give up ! ! on you
(E)nvisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts)
(F)orgives your mistakes
(G)ives unconditionally
(H)elps you
(I)nvites you over
(J)ust "be" with you
(K)eeps you close at heart
(L)oves you for who you are
(M)akes a difference in your life
(N)ever Judges
(O)ffer support
(P)icks you up
(Q)uiets your fears
(R)aises your spirits
(S)ays nice things about you
(T)ells you the truth when you need to hear it
(U)nderstands you
(V)alues you
(W)alks beside you
(X)-plains thing you don't understand
(Y)ells when you won't listen and
(Z)aps you back to reality
The Room
The Room
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to
write something for a class. The subject was what
Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his
father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's
the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a
cousin found it While cleaning out the teenager's
locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian Had been
dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted
every piece of His life near them-notes from
classmates and teachers, his homework. Only two
months before, he had handwritten the essay about
encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards
detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it
was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce
Moore realized that Their son had described his view
of heaven. It makes such an impact that People want
to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore
said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after
Memorial Day. He was Driving home from a friend's
house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in
Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He
emerged from the wreck Unharmed but stepped on a
downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung
it among the family portraits in the living room. "I
think God used him to make a point. I think we were
meant to find it and make something out of it, "
Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband
want to share their son's vision of life after
death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven.
I know I'll see him.
Brian's Essay:
The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I
found myself in the room. There were no
distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files. They were like
the ones in libraries that list titles by author or
subject in alphabetical order. But these files,
which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endless in either direction, had very different
headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch
my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked."
I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I
quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I
recognized the names written on each one. And then
without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This
lifeless room with its small files was a crude
catalog system for my life. Here were written the
actions of my every moment, big and small, in detail
my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and
curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as
I began randomly opening files and exploring their
content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others
a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would
look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one-marked
"Friends I have betrayed," The titles ranged from
the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I have
Read," Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given,"
"Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost
hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at
my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I
Have Done in My Anger"," Things I Have Muttered
Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be
surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected.
Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by
the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my
years to fill each of these thousands or even
millions of cards? But each card confirmed this
truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed
with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have
watched," I realized the files grew to contain their
contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet
after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of
the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the
quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew
that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I
felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file
out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and
drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed
content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had
been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.
One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see
these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have
to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file
out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and
began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge
a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a
card, only to find it as strong as steel when I
tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I
returned the file to its slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a
long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The
title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."
The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,
almost unused. I Pulled on its handle and a small
box not more than three inches long fell into my
hands. I could count the cards it contained on one
hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs
so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach
and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried.
I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of
it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my
tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of
this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But
then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files
and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His
response. And in the moments I could bring myself to
look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.
Why did He have to read every one? Finally He
turned and looked at me from across the room. He
looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a
pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head,
covered my face with my hands and began to cry
again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He
could have said so many things. But He didn't say a
word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of
files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out
a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over
mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him.
All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled
the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these
cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so
dark, and so alive.
The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with
His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a
sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think
I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but
the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the
last file and walk back to my side. He placed His
hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."
I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There
was no lock on its door. There were still cards to
be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens
me,"- Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He
gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him
shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel
the same way forward it to as many people as you can
so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My
"People I shared the gospel with"file just got
bigger, how about yours?
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to
write something for a class. The subject was what
Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his
father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's
the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a
cousin found it While cleaning out the teenager's
locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian Had been
dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted
every piece of His life near them-notes from
classmates and teachers, his homework. Only two
months before, he had handwritten the essay about
encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards
detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it
was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce
Moore realized that Their son had described his view
of heaven. It makes such an impact that People want
to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore
said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after
Memorial Day. He was Driving home from a friend's
house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in
Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He
emerged from the wreck Unharmed but stepped on a
downed power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung
it among the family portraits in the living room. "I
think God used him to make a point. I think we were
meant to find it and make something out of it, "
Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband
want to share their son's vision of life after
death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven.
I know I'll see him.
Brian's Essay:
The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I
found myself in the room. There were no
distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files. They were like
the ones in libraries that list titles by author or
subject in alphabetical order. But these files,
which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endless in either direction, had very different
headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch
my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked."
I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I
quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I
recognized the names written on each one. And then
without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This
lifeless room with its small files was a crude
catalog system for my life. Here were written the
actions of my every moment, big and small, in detail
my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and
curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as
I began randomly opening files and exploring their
content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others
a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would
look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one-marked
"Friends I have betrayed," The titles ranged from
the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I have
Read," Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given,"
"Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost
hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at
my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I
Have Done in My Anger"," Things I Have Muttered
Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be
surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected.
Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by
the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my
years to fill each of these thousands or even
millions of cards? But each card confirmed this
truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed
with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have
watched," I realized the files grew to contain their
contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet
after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of
the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the
quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew
that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I
felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file
out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and
drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed
content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had
been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.
One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see
these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have
to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file
out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and
began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge
a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a
card, only to find it as strong as steel when I
tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I
returned the file to its slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a
long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The
title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."
The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,
almost unused. I Pulled on its handle and a small
box not more than three inches long fell into my
hands. I could count the cards it contained on one
hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs
so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach
and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried.
I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of
it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my
tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of
this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But
then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.
I watched helplessly as He began to open the files
and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His
response. And in the moments I could bring myself to
look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.
Why did He have to read every one? Finally He
turned and looked at me from across the room. He
looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a
pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head,
covered my face with my hands and began to cry
again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He
could have said so many things. But He didn't say a
word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of
files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out
a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over
mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him.
All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled
the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these
cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so
dark, and so alive.
The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with
His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a
sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think
I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but
the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the
last file and walk back to my side. He placed His
hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."
I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There
was no lock on its door. There were still cards to
be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens
me,"- Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He
gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him
shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel
the same way forward it to as many people as you can
so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My
"People I shared the gospel with"file just got
bigger, how about yours?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)