I am saved. What about Dad?

Dad walked down the stairs, in his usual nonchalant composure. No tears, no tremble. He walked. We reached the front, and joined the crowd in front of the screen.

Prayer was led. No muttering. But the fact remains, he answered the call to step down to the front. Children's Day of 2006 would be a landmark to the Lokes.

The heart of a man is hard. The heart of a male is harder. With joy, you see tears welling up in a woman's eye; with fear, you see the power of embrace between women. With a man, tears are rare and precious.

If prayers were intiated, it'd be that Dad's heart will increasingly melt into softness for the seed to grow and blossom.

- R

Touching Triathlon - Seeing Jesus in it

This is a clip of a father-son team doing the Kona Ironman (every triathlete's dream) - 4 k swim, 180 k ride, 42 k run!
Took them 17 hrs but they completed it. The man explained that he did it becos the son wanted to participate.

Demonstration of a father's love for his son. v touching.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiXV9x8ZQ7U

Questions You'd Asked at any Age

Dear Henri proposed the game of asking questions, any sort. Morphed as it progressed, the outcome was a beautiful insight into the little spectrum we know, not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What if the sky is always red in colour?

A1 Then the sea will look red too.

A2 Then we won't be able to see the sun.

A3 I would feel really really hot.

A4 Red = Autumn = I like

A5 I will hide in my room everyday.


What if you are the richest person on earth?

A1 Hooray! I stop using my brains now. Can adopt children too, so there'll be no orphans.

A2 Nothing would really be different for me.

A3 Open up a big bum-bum car studio.

A4 I would travel all around the world and help with little kids.

A5 Then I'll stop work tomorrow and enjoy life.


How would your life be different if you did not know God?

A1 I'll be joining my friends partying @MOS.

A2 I will be happily partying around.

A3 Thinking about the scene.

A4 Will try to involve myself in all sorts of hobbies/interests.

A5 Of course will always think that I AM the One.


What if there's no time?

A1 I would take the time to see the beauty around.

A2 Then find time lor.

A3 The Tag Heuer / Swatch / Rolex will stop business!!

A4 We will be in groundhog day.

A5 I will never know when I'm born.


What if girls don't have to grow up?

A1 If girls don't have to grow up, then the barbie doll factory will be everywhere in the world.

A2 There will be a lot of irritated husbands.

A3 Then I'll rather not be born.

A4 Yeaaah... I can still keep all my teddy bears n soft toy n everything cute.

A5 Then boys don't need to grow up too.


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The Pharisee and the Child

"How many lives have been ruined in the name of narrow-minded, intolerant religiosity!

The pharisee's forte in any age is blaming, accusing, and guilt-tripping others. His gift is noticing the speck in another's eye and failing to see the beam in his own. Blinded by his own ambition, the pharisee cannot see his shadow and thus projects it on others. This is his gift, his signature, his most predictable and reliable response.

Whenever we place blame, we are looking for a scapegoat for a real dislocation in which we ourselves are implicated. Blame is a defensive substitute for an honest examination of life that seeks personal growth in failure and self-knowledge in mistakes. Thomas Moore stated, "Fundamentally, it is a way of averting consciousness of error."

Unless we reclaim our child we will have no inner sense of self and gradually the imposter becomes who we really think we are. Both psychologists and spiritual writers emphasize the importance of getting to know the inner child as best we can and embracing him or her as a lovable and precious part of ourselves. The positive qualities of the child - openness, trusting dependence, playfulness, simplicity, sensitivity to feelings, - restrain us from closing ourselves off to new ideas, unprofitable commitments, the surprises of the Spirit, and risky opportunities for growth. The unself-consciousness of the child keeps us from morbid introspection, endless self-analysis, and the fatal narcissism of spiritual perfectionism."

Excerpts from Abba's Child by Brennan Manning

Present Risenness

"Living in the awareness of the risen Jesus is not a trivial pursuit for the bored and lonely or a defense mechanism enabling us to cope with the stress and sorrow of life. It is the key that unlocks the door to grasping the meaning of existence...

The apparent frustrations of circumstances, seen or unforeseen, of illness, of misunderstandings, even of our own sins, do not thwart the final fulfillment of our lives hidden with Christ in God.

The awareness of present risenness (of Christ) effects the integration of intuition and will, emotion and reason. Less preoccupied with appearances, we are less inclined to change costumes to win approval with each shift of company and circumstance.

We are not one person at home, another in the office; one person at church, another in traffic. We do not pass rudderless from one episode to another, idly seeking some distraction to pass the time, remaining stoic to each new emotion, enduring with a shrug of our shoulders when something irks or irritates. Now circumstances feed us, not we them; we use them, not they us. Gradually we become whole and mature persons whose faculties and energies are harmonised and integrated...

With the passing of the years I am growing more convinced that the discipline of awareness of the present risenness of Jesus is intimately linked to the recovery of passion."

Excerpts from Abba's Child by Brennan Manning

The Yellow Shirt

The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when
I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.

"You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!"

"It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt be came a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned. The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.

The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt! And so the pattern was set.

On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, "So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up."

I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.

Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.

Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words "I BELONG TO PAT."

Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed,"I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER." But I didn't stop there. I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official Looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.

Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: "Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother."

That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: "I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I
am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me."

The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.

I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

God Answers Prayers

I know not by what methods rare,
But this I know God answers prayer.
I know that He has given His word,
Which tells me prayer is always heard,
and will be answered, soon or late;
And so I pray, and calmly wait.

I know not if the blessing sought
Will come in just the way I thought,
But leave my prayers with Him alone,
Whose will is wiser than my own,
Assured that He will grant my quest,
Or send some answer far more blest.

Gift of Grace

One man gave his wife a new watch with a note, "It's 'time' that I tell you how sorry I am."

A mother gave her prodigal child a broom with the verse, "I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. . . " (Isaiah 44:22). I forgive you, I love you, I am so glad God gave you to be my child."

Now it's your turn. What gift of grace can you bestow?

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by Pam and Bill Farrel who are international speakers and the authors of over 20 books including best-selling Men are like Waffles, Women are like Spaghetti and their newest, Every Marriage is a Fixer Upper.