angelic dreamer's blog: "touching storys"

This is GREAT............. DON'T MESS WITH MOM The Childs Comments and Thoughts My son came home from school one day, with a smirk upon his face. He decided he was smart enough, To put me in my place. "Guess what I learned in Civics Two, that's taught by Mr. Wright? It's all about the laws today, The 'Children's Bill of Rights.' It says I need not clean my room, don't have to cut my hair No one can tell me what to think, or speak, or what to wear. I have freedom from religion, and regardless what you say, I don't have to bow my head, and I sure don't have to pray. I can wear earrings if I want, and pierce my tongue & nose. I can read & watch just what I like, get tattoos from head to toe. And if you ever spank me, I'll charge you with a crime. I'll back up all my charges, with the marks on my behind. Don't you ever touch me, my body's only for my use, not for your hugs and kisses, that's just more child abuse. Don't preach about your morals, like your Mama did to you. That's nothing more than mind control, And it's illegal too! Mom, I have these children's rights, so you can't influence me, or I'll call Children's Services Division, better known as C.S.D." Mom's Reply and Thoughts Of course my first instinct was to toss him out the door. But the chance to teach him a lesson made me think a little more. I mulled it over carefully, I couldn't let this go. A smile crept upon my face, he's messing with a pro. Next day I took him shopping at the local Goodwill Store. I told him, "Pick out all you want, there's shirts & pants galore. I've called and checked with C.S.D. who said they didn't care if I bought you K-Mart shoes instead of those Nike Airs. I've canceled that appointment to take your driver's test. The C.S.D. is unconcerned so I'll decide what's best." I said "No time to stop and eat, or pick up stuff to munch. And tomorrow you can start to learn to make your own sack lunch. Just save the raging appetite, and wait till dinner time. We're having liver and onions, a favorite dish of mine." He asked "Can I please rent a movie, to watch on my VCR?" "Sorry, but I sold your TV, for new tires on my car. I also rented out your room, you'll take the couch instead. The C.S.D. requires just a roof over your head. Your clothing won't be trendy now, I'll choose what we eat. That allowance that you used to get, will buy me something neat. I'm selling off your jet ski, dirt-bike & roller blades. Check out the 'Parents Bill of Rights', It 's in effect today! Hey hot shot, are you crying, Why are you on your knees? Are you asking God to help you out, instead of C.S.D..?" (Author Unknown)

This is good; I'll never look at my hands the same! >> >> Grandpa, 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, Grandpa, 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. Grandpa >>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 held my rifle and wiped my tears when I 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 the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my >>Parents and Spouse and walked my Daughter down the aisle. >> >> Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole >>and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot. >> >> 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 ." >> >> I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God >>reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home. >> >> When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my >>children and wife I think of Grandpa. I know he 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 considered a friend is something Christ >>would do. Good things come to those who wait!

This is such a touching story! Let's see if you send it back. We all know or knew someone like this!! One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd." I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. " They really should get lives. " He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends He said yes. We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday! " He just laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship. Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous. ! Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. " Thanks," he said. As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach...but mostly your friends... I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story." I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it's depth. Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others. You now have two choices, you can: 1) Pass this on to your friends or 2) Delete it and act like it didn't touch your heart. As you can see, I took choice number 1. "Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly." There is no beginning or end.. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift. It's National Friendship Week. Show your friends how much you care. Send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND. If it comes back to you, then you'll know you have a circle of friends. WHEN YOU RECEIVE THIS LETTER, YOU'RE REQUESTED TO SEND IT TO AT LEAST 10 PEOPLE, INCLUDING THE PERSON WHO SENT IT TO Y

Midnight Phone Call We all know what it's like to get that phone call in the middle of the night. This night's call was no different. Jerking up to the ringing summons, I focused on the red illuminated numbers of my clock. Midnight! Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver. Hello?" My heart pounded; I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed. "Mama?" I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter. When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clearer on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist. "Mama, I know it's late, but don't...don't say anything, until I finish. And before you ask, yes, I've been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back, and..." I drew in a sharp shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasn't right. "And I got so scared. All I could think about was how it would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said I'd been killed. I want...to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know you've been worried sick. I should have called you days ago, but I was afraid...afraid..." Sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I pictured my daughter's face in my mind and my fogged senses seemed to clear. "I think--" "No! Please let me finish! Please!" She pleaded, not so much in anger but in desperation. I paused and tried to think of what to say. Before I could go on, she continued, "I'm pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldn't be drinking now...especially now, but I'm scared, Mama. So scared!" The voice broke again and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked at my husband who sat silently mouthing, "Who is it?" I shook my head and when I didn't answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with the portable phone held to his ear. She must have heard the click in the line because she continued, "Are you still there? Please don't hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone." I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. "I'm here, I wouldn't hang up," I said. "I know I should have told you, Mama. But when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You don't listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings aren't important. Because you're my mother, you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I don't need answers. I just want someone to listen" I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my night stand. "I'm listening," I whispered. "You know, back there on the road, after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I could hear you preaching about people shouldn't drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home." "That's good, Honey," I said as relief filled my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine. I knew from his touch that he thought I was doing and saying the right thing. "But you know, I think I can drive now." "No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened, and I tightened the clasp on my husband's hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Don't hang up on me until the taxi gets there." "I just want to come home, Mama." "I know. But do this for your mama. Wait for the taxi, please." I listened to the silence in fear. When I didn't hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving. "There's the taxi, now." Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing. "I'm coming home, Mama." There was a click and the phone went silent. Moving from the bed with tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my sixteen-year-old daughter's room. The dark silence hung thick. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We have to learn to listen," I said. He pulled me around to face him. "We'll learn. You'll see." Then he took me into his arms and I buried my head in his shoulder. I let him hold me for several moments, then I pulled back and stared back at the bed. He studied me for a second, then asked, "Do you think she'll ever know she dialed the wrong number?" I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him. "Maybe it wasn't such a wrong number." "Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled young voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the darkness. "We're practicing," I answered. "Practicing what?" she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, her eyes already closed in slumber. "Listening," I whispered, and brushed a hand over her cheek.