Thanks for this from Clint Eastwood, George.
Bruce
"As I enjoy my twilight years, I am often struck by the inevitability that the party must end. There will be a clear, cold morning when there isn't any "more." No more hugs, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat.
It seems to me that one of the important things to do before that morning comes, is to let every one of your family and friends know that you care for them by finding simple ways to let them know your heart-felt beliefs and the guiding principles of your life so they can always say, "He was my friend, and I know where he stood."
So, just in case I'm gone tomorrow, please know this.
I voted against that incompetent, lying, flip-flopping, insincere, double-talking, radical socialist, terrorist excusing, bleeding heart, narcissistic, scientific and economic moron currently in the White House!
Participating in a gun buy back program because you think that criminals have too many guns is like having yourself castrated because you think your neighbors have too many kids.'
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Billy Graham's Prayer For Our Nation
This came from a friend.
Bruce
'Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done.
We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem.
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.
Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today! Cleanse us from sin and Set us free. Amen!'
Bruce
'Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done.
We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem.
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.
Search us, Oh God, and know our hearts today! Cleanse us from sin and Set us free. Amen!'
Sunday, December 15, 2013
1/2 Boys - 1/2 Men
Thanks for this, James. It brings back memories of active duty. And of my wife's, who served proudly as a Air Force nurse.
Bruce
"1/2 Boys - 1/2 Men
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's, but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to' square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And her as well, as she, too, is over there, in danger, doing her part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
As you go to bed tonight, remember this scene:
A short lull, a little shade, and a picture of loved ones in their helmets.
For those who will, a prayer wheel for our military.
'Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. Amen.'
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops on the march, sailors at sea, and airmen in flight, far from us now, in Iraq, Afghanistan, and all foreign countries where we have responded to call, if not, on our own, having only intruded and meddled.
Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine, or Airman, prayer is the very best one."
Bruce
"1/2 Boys - 1/2 Men
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's, but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to' square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And her as well, as she, too, is over there, in danger, doing her part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so.
As you go to bed tonight, remember this scene:
A short lull, a little shade, and a picture of loved ones in their helmets.
For those who will, a prayer wheel for our military.
'Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. Amen.'
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops on the march, sailors at sea, and airmen in flight, far from us now, in Iraq, Afghanistan, and all foreign countries where we have responded to call, if not, on our own, having only intruded and meddled.
Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine, or Airman, prayer is the very best one."
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Crowd declares '2nd Revolution' outside White House
I know what it is like to be in Washington, DC when a cold wind is blowing and the city is paralyzed under one inch of snow. Although it was not quite that bad yesterday I thank Larry Klayman and the people who put up with the cold and attended Larry Klayman's 2d Revolution.
Read more
Bruce
'WASHINGTON — Former Reagan Justice Department lawyer Larry Klayman hopes the 19th of November will rank with the 4th of July, someday.
He called the day the beginning of “The Second American Revolution.”
...
About 200 hardy patriots concerned about the direction of the country gathered on a sunny but chilly day to hear speakers call for two goals: The renewal of America and the resignation of President Obama.
...
But, the attorney suggested the remedy is in the hands of ordinary Americans.
“In the style of Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. and others who have changed history and reclaimed freedom, Americans have no choice – as the three branches of government have completely abdicated their representation of citizens’ complaints. The government needs to fear that the people will rise up if things do not change in Washington, D.C.,” he declared.
...
Standing nearly in front of the White House, former Sen. Gordon Humphrey, R-N.H., warned, “We are on the doorstep of tyranny, and that is not an overstatement.”
...
With a candor the crowd appeared to find refreshing, Lyons described exactly why he believes “the rules of engagement are crazy” in Afghanistan.
The admiral noted how U.S. military personnel cannot stop an Afghan man from sodomizing a five-year-old boy or from beating his wife, because of “our need to be sufficiently sensitive to their 7th century values.”
...
Joseph Farah, WND editor and CEO, also addressed the crowd. He began by saying he’d been wondering where all the Americans have been during this time of “growing tyranny we are seeing in America today.”
In the following video of his speech, Farah explains why he believes Obama is not the problem, but merely the symptom of a much deeper problem – and why, when Obama is gone, America will not be automatically cured of what ails the nation:
...
Charles Strange began by declaring, “The first casualty of war is truth,” something he may know better than most anyone else.
He recounted the heartbreaking story of the death of his 25-year-old son, Michael, an NSA cryptologist supporting the ill-fated SEAL Team VI mission Extortion 17 that Lyons had mentioned.
Strange and Klayman have filed a lawsuit accusing Vice President Joe Biden and former Defense Secretary Leon Panetta of revealing that SEAL Team VI carried out the operation that killed Osama bin Laden, making the team vulnerable to retaliation.
...
Former Graham County, Ariz., Sheriff Richard Mack called it, “My kind of rally – a bunch of ‘crazy’ people who believe in God, the Bible and the Constitution.”
The former lawman, who was named the National Rifle Association Law Enforcement Officer of the Year for 1994 and member of the NRA Hall of Fame, claimed he was the first sheriff to sue a sitting U.S. president.
He also said he was the first person to sue former President Bill Clinton on a “nonsexual matter.”
...
Regarding America’s destiny, the man of the cloth said a “‘true restoration’ will not come from a political messiah. It is in our hands.”
Carl asked Americans to “imagine what would happen if we trusted God and humbled ourselves before Him.”
...
“God is calling us to return to prayer,” she added, then enunciating her words carefully, she closed with, “May America bless God, again.”'
Read more
Bruce
'WASHINGTON — Former Reagan Justice Department lawyer Larry Klayman hopes the 19th of November will rank with the 4th of July, someday.
He called the day the beginning of “The Second American Revolution.”
...
About 200 hardy patriots concerned about the direction of the country gathered on a sunny but chilly day to hear speakers call for two goals: The renewal of America and the resignation of President Obama.
...
But, the attorney suggested the remedy is in the hands of ordinary Americans.
“In the style of Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. and others who have changed history and reclaimed freedom, Americans have no choice – as the three branches of government have completely abdicated their representation of citizens’ complaints. The government needs to fear that the people will rise up if things do not change in Washington, D.C.,” he declared.
...
Standing nearly in front of the White House, former Sen. Gordon Humphrey, R-N.H., warned, “We are on the doorstep of tyranny, and that is not an overstatement.”
...
With a candor the crowd appeared to find refreshing, Lyons described exactly why he believes “the rules of engagement are crazy” in Afghanistan.
The admiral noted how U.S. military personnel cannot stop an Afghan man from sodomizing a five-year-old boy or from beating his wife, because of “our need to be sufficiently sensitive to their 7th century values.”
...
Joseph Farah, WND editor and CEO, also addressed the crowd. He began by saying he’d been wondering where all the Americans have been during this time of “growing tyranny we are seeing in America today.”
In the following video of his speech, Farah explains why he believes Obama is not the problem, but merely the symptom of a much deeper problem – and why, when Obama is gone, America will not be automatically cured of what ails the nation:
...
Charles Strange began by declaring, “The first casualty of war is truth,” something he may know better than most anyone else.
He recounted the heartbreaking story of the death of his 25-year-old son, Michael, an NSA cryptologist supporting the ill-fated SEAL Team VI mission Extortion 17 that Lyons had mentioned.
Strange and Klayman have filed a lawsuit accusing Vice President Joe Biden and former Defense Secretary Leon Panetta of revealing that SEAL Team VI carried out the operation that killed Osama bin Laden, making the team vulnerable to retaliation.
...
Former Graham County, Ariz., Sheriff Richard Mack called it, “My kind of rally – a bunch of ‘crazy’ people who believe in God, the Bible and the Constitution.”
The former lawman, who was named the National Rifle Association Law Enforcement Officer of the Year for 1994 and member of the NRA Hall of Fame, claimed he was the first sheriff to sue a sitting U.S. president.
He also said he was the first person to sue former President Bill Clinton on a “nonsexual matter.”
...
Regarding America’s destiny, the man of the cloth said a “‘true restoration’ will not come from a political messiah. It is in our hands.”
Carl asked Americans to “imagine what would happen if we trusted God and humbled ourselves before Him.”
...
“God is calling us to return to prayer,” she added, then enunciating her words carefully, she closed with, “May America bless God, again.”'
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Pearl Harbor after visiting hours
This 4-minute video from George is about eternal peace at the USS Arizona. A large number of the WWII survivors of the Arizona, who escaped death there on December 7, 1941, have asked that when they die their ashes be returned to their ship with their shipmates who weren't as lucky. May they rest in peace. Thanks George.
See more
Bruce
See more
Bruce
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
A Prayer for America in its 11th Hour
Judi McLeod of canadafreepress.com has been against Obama and for America from day one of Obama. I'm with her.
Read more
Bruce
'Today is the 11th anniversary of September 11, 2001. All anniversaries of 9/11 are important but today is especially so because in real time it takes place in the 11th hour of America’s fate and the possibility of an undocumented president being reelected within a mere two months.
...
In the four years since he’s been at the White House, he’s worked to gut the U.S. military, allowing his United States Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano to officially categorize returning decorated war veterans as number one on the Domestic Terrorist suspect list.
Obama policy has legislated rules of engagement aimed at keeping America from winning in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Every flag-draped coffin returned to heartbroken loved ones can be blamed on Barack Hussein Obama.
...
For the millions of Americans who believe in the Almighty, it is time for a prayer: “Please God let September 11, 2012 be the turnaround for America, which mainly because of You is a light in the dark to so many and has been so for 236 years.”'
Read more
Bruce
'Today is the 11th anniversary of September 11, 2001. All anniversaries of 9/11 are important but today is especially so because in real time it takes place in the 11th hour of America’s fate and the possibility of an undocumented president being reelected within a mere two months.
...
In the four years since he’s been at the White House, he’s worked to gut the U.S. military, allowing his United States Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano to officially categorize returning decorated war veterans as number one on the Domestic Terrorist suspect list.
Obama policy has legislated rules of engagement aimed at keeping America from winning in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Every flag-draped coffin returned to heartbroken loved ones can be blamed on Barack Hussein Obama.
...
For the millions of Americans who believe in the Almighty, it is time for a prayer: “Please God let September 11, 2012 be the turnaround for America, which mainly because of You is a light in the dark to so many and has been so for 236 years.”'
Friday, July 27, 2012
The sneeze
They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With their rich maroon gowns flowing and the traditional caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.
Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears. This class would NOT pray during the commencements, not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.
The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.
The speeches were nice, but they were routine until the final speech received a standing ovation. A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, and then, it happened. All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED !!!! The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said,
'GOD BLESS YOU'
And he walked off the stage...
The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God's blessing on their future with or without the court's approval.
This is a true story; it happened at the University of Maryland. Thanks for the story, George.
Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears. This class would NOT pray during the commencements, not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.
The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.
The speeches were nice, but they were routine until the final speech received a standing ovation. A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, and then, it happened. All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED !!!! The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said,
'GOD BLESS YOU'
And he walked off the stage...
The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God's blessing on their future with or without the court's approval.
This is a true story; it happened at the University of Maryland. Thanks for the story, George.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Prayer for our nation
Thanks for sending me this, Raya.
Read more http://tpartyus2010.ning.com/group/godcountryusaforrealcoservatives/forum/topic/show?id=3180617%3ATopic%3A5903&xgs=1&xg_source=msg_share_topic
Bruce
"Posted by Emil J Milano on August 2, 2009
Father, we come before you and humbly ask that you forgive us of our sins and that you forgive us as a people for turning our backs on you over the years and allowing our lights to slowly grow dim and allowing darkness to cover our land.
We have fallen short, the Church has grown lazy and selfish. We weren't praying and fighting for righteous and holiness sake but, we're more concerned with our own worldly gains. For this we are paying the price but yet Father, many of us still point our fingers at others and try and put the blame elsewhere. Your Word said in Matthew, "You hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of your own eye; and then shall you see clearly to cast out the mote out of your brother's eye".
I pray Father that we come to your Call in 2 Chron 7:14 If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.
It is not your Will Father that you destroy this land but our will when we do not do as you have required of us. Father, time is nothing for you, the days are numbered but you are the one that does the numbers and controls time. This Nation can be saved and restored if we do what is pleasing in your sight.
Father, I pray for your Grace to instill upon each believer in Christ Jesus to repent and do as you require so that you may heal our land in Jesus precious name, Amen.
To God be the Glory, Honor and Power for ever and ever, Amen."
Read more http://tpartyus2010.ning.com/group/godcountryusaforrealcoservatives/forum/topic/show?id=3180617%3ATopic%3A5903&xgs=1&xg_source=msg_share_topic
Bruce
"Posted by Emil J Milano on August 2, 2009
Father, we come before you and humbly ask that you forgive us of our sins and that you forgive us as a people for turning our backs on you over the years and allowing our lights to slowly grow dim and allowing darkness to cover our land.
We have fallen short, the Church has grown lazy and selfish. We weren't praying and fighting for righteous and holiness sake but, we're more concerned with our own worldly gains. For this we are paying the price but yet Father, many of us still point our fingers at others and try and put the blame elsewhere. Your Word said in Matthew, "You hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of your own eye; and then shall you see clearly to cast out the mote out of your brother's eye".
I pray Father that we come to your Call in 2 Chron 7:14 If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.
It is not your Will Father that you destroy this land but our will when we do not do as you have required of us. Father, time is nothing for you, the days are numbered but you are the one that does the numbers and controls time. This Nation can be saved and restored if we do what is pleasing in your sight.
Father, I pray for your Grace to instill upon each believer in Christ Jesus to repent and do as you require so that you may heal our land in Jesus precious name, Amen.
To God be the Glory, Honor and Power for ever and ever, Amen."
Sunday, January 9, 2011
May God bless this airline, Captain
A tribute to a young soldier and his family. Thanks to Gordon Ray Kissinger.
Bruce
Bruce
Monday, April 26, 2010
CAIR celebrates Pentagon's disinvite of Franklin Graham
Along with the UN, CAIR's another group we don't want in this country.
Bruce
"Army Col. Tom Collins said the invitation to Graham was from the Colorado-based National Day of Prayer Task Force, not the Pentagon. The Pentagon chaplain's office, he said, coordinates the event with the private group. The Army said the event will go forward without the participation of the National Day of Prayer Task Force."
Bruce
"Army Col. Tom Collins said the invitation to Graham was from the Colorado-based National Day of Prayer Task Force, not the Pentagon. The Pentagon chaplain's office, he said, coordinates the event with the private group. The Army said the event will go forward without the participation of the National Day of Prayer Task Force."
Thursday, March 18, 2010
U.S. accused of aiding terror
"We have to first honestly answer the questions: Is Islam a peaceful religion? Is Islam reviving itself? Once we understand the problem that this is a cult-like process that indoctrinates masses in order to establish an Islamic hegemony in which all non-Muslim nations are subservient to Islam, we recognize that, then we can deal with it the same way we dealt with Nazism," Shoebat said.
"It's our insistence that Islam is a peaceful religion and Obama saying that the most beautiful sound in the world is the evening Muslim call to prayer," he said.
Don't you hate being led by an arrogant man who makes mistake after mistake and all you are able to do is write letters to people who don't want them and don't read them?
Bruce
"It's our insistence that Islam is a peaceful religion and Obama saying that the most beautiful sound in the world is the evening Muslim call to prayer," he said.
Don't you hate being led by an arrogant man who makes mistake after mistake and all you are able to do is write letters to people who don't want them and don't read them?
Bruce
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Old Man and the Dog
While browsing through my mail archives, I found this story that my father had sent me. It touched me and I'm sharing it with you.
Bruce
The Old Man and the Dog
by Catherine Moore
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."
My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.
The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowers.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked a bout it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought o ut our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."
I listened as she read The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.
Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"
The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said..
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"
Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
Lost time can never be found.
Bruce
The Old Man and the Dog
by Catherine Moore
"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?"
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving."
My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often.
The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowers.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked a bout it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought o ut our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."
I listened as she read The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.
Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?"
The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said..
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!"
Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.
We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. . ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama & petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
Lost time can never be found.
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