The latest from Полнотекстовые фиды для блогофермеров
- GIVING UP POWER
- bank
- possibly explosive
- Alicia in Wonderland 2
- Reasons Why - Nickel Creek
- Lulu: To Sir With Love
- Click-click-click of typing!
- This will touch your heart.....
| GIVING UP POWER | Top |
| Scripture: You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever. Psalm 16:11 NLT Quote: It takes a radical break to turn a man from earth's trash to heaven's treasure. Vance Havner Reflection: One of the most difficult things for me, is too give and trust my life to God. For some reason this is a very difficult for me to do. Giving up any power or any control is not easy. I struggled with this for a long time. When I did finally entrust my life to God, I discovered something very important. When I said, "God I put it into your hands you take care of it" nothing seemed to happen. But when I said, "You call the shots Lord, give me the strength to do thy well." I became a good and faithful servant. Things would begin to happen, my problem was solved, sometimes it took a long time, but God was there with me. You see I was serving God and He was working through me. He is still there and is still working through me, and He will forever! The empty basket (True Story) When Palestine was partitioned, Maltar and his family were stranded in Jerusalem. Daily his family read the Lord's promises, such as those of Psalm 34. One day Maltar said, "Children, we finished the last of our food for breakfast. We have no money. We'll tell this only to the Lord, and I'll go out with this basket." SO THEY PRAYED AROUND THE EMPTY BASKET. Maltar went to the bank , but there was still no money coming through. As he turned to go, he saw a friend from his hometown in the line. He'd left before the worst troubles and bank ed his money in Jerusalem. "Maltar!" his friend cried. "What are you doing here?" "We were on holiday in our small house in Jerusalem and weren't able to get back home," Maltar said. "Then you must be having money problems. How are you managing?" "Fine," Maltar told him and left the bank . His friend overtook him: "You can't be fine, Maltar, with nine kids to feed." He dropped a handful of bank notes into the basket. The children, waiting at the gate, stared in wonder as Maltar returned with an overflowing basket. Patricia St. John in Finding God Between a Rock and Hard Place David said, "Those who honor [God] will have all they need" (Psalm 34:9). Why not claim that promise today? Adapted from Men of Integrity Devotional Bible with devotions from the editors of Men of Integrity, a publication of Christianity Today I International (Tyndale, 2002), entry for May 13. Source | |
| bank | Top |
| Your first love walks up to your door, what do you do? Blink in surprise, 'cause I haven't seen him since high school; I'm also probably wondering what brings him to my door, but other than that, it's just a mild curiosity. Is there always going to be that one person who will always have your heart? I haven't enjoyed a love like that for a person, yet. But my writing definitely counts. What are you listening to right now? "It's Raining Men", muahahaha. What kind of cell phone do you have? Nokia, pay as you go. When was the last time your parent's yelled at you? First of all, that apostrophe shouldn't be in there. Second, it was my mother just venting all over the place about her lost gemstone. What color is your hair? Naturally? Ash brown. At the moment? Mostly butter-gold and peach. You're rude, aren't you? I try not to be; it's much more fun being kind and polite. Do you wish you could take things back? Depends on the things. How many kids do you want? I'm getting a big old to have my own kids. Plus, I'm definitely not in a relationshion for the foreseeable future, given the current setup for my life. But if I did and could...two. Who did you last hangout with? Does the Sergeantry meeting count? I hung out afterwards for another fifteen, twenty minutes with TEs and Arnora and Mikael, chatting and talking about work... Will your next kiss be a mistake? Only if it's a crappy one. What is something you currently want right now? I want several things. To finish my current writing project. To meet someone worth my time. To relax and laugh. Do you have plans for tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday for everyone else. For me, it's another workday. Hopefully I'll get far enough into story #6 between today and tomorrow to make it a good, productive day. Do you curse in front of your parents? I try not to, but sometimes it slips out. Are promises important to you? Yes. I have a sense of honor. Call it old-fashioned, call it out-dated...and I'll mock you for having no honor, yourself. Does love exist? Duh. In many different forms, in many different ways, in many different strengths and intensities. Is there someone you can tell everything to? Some people, yes. It depends on what my problem is. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? A few. Isn't it great to be alive? Ask me again after my massage session (for a more enthusiastic response; I'm a bit stressed)...but yeah. What were you doing right before you logged into Facebook? Looking at my emails; Tess tagged me with this, so I moved it over to LJ for memewhorage posting. Are you jealous of someone right now? Jealous? Nope. I don't have anyone in my life to be jealous over. Envious? A little, mostly of those who wonderful partners. What are you looking forward to? Getting this anthology finished, polished, and perfected on time. Could you ever be friends with someone who hurt you badly? It's happened before. My last relationship, he hurt me badly. I'm still suffering trust issues from it. But I am friends with him once more. What do you really want right now? To get rid of this stress. Do you trust all your friends? To one degree or another. Do you have a piggy bank that's actually shaped like a pig? Nope. I have a faux cut-glass (molded) decanter with a stoppered top. Who was the last female you hugged? My mother. Who was the last person of the opposite sex that you talked to? My father. Did you talk to a complete jerk today? Nope. Do you want to start over with anyone? Nope. Do you know if anyone likes you? *snort* I have friends, don't I? ...If you mean romantically, there are a few who might thing they do, but it's more in an air castle sort of way. Nobody is serious about me, romantically. Did you ever waste too much time on a certain guy/girl? Yes. Three frikkin years. How do you feel about your hair? I'm enjoying subjecting it to fits of whimsy, mostly regarding its color. Could you go a day without eating? Yes, if I had to. But I wouldn't make myself go without at least water to drink. Has anyone called you perfect before? Not really. Do you know anyone that has messed up your life? Yep. Are you good at hiding your feelings? Sometimes. What are you suppose to be doing right now? Getting ready to go to the massage therapist, and finishing my breakfast. When was the last time you went to the mall? Monday, to pick up the kitchen knives from being sharpened. What are you listening to? "Crash Into Me". Do you believe exes should give their relationship a second chance? Depends on the situation. My last relationship? Hell no. We're all much happier now that he's married to someone else...and yes, I'm friends with her, too. Have you ever had a best friend? Several. What was the first thing you thought when you woke up? "I have to pee/what time is it?" Has anyone ever told you have pretty eyes? Yep. Also that I have strange eyes, since they look dark grey at a distance, but are hazel green up close...and at a certain, specific distance, they look brown. What subject do you have a hard time understanding? Accounting. I Am Not An Accountant. Girls are bitches, right? Sometimes. Do you miss the way things used to be? Some things, yes; other things no. ~Lotm Source | |
| possibly explosive | Top |
| Judicial Watch, the public interest group that investigates and prosecutes government corruption, announced today that it forced the Obama administration to release documents about the October 13, 2008, Treasury Department meeting that coerced major bank s to allow the government to take $250 billion equity stakes. Among the other news, the documents confirm former Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson told the CEOs of nine major bank s that they had no choice but to allow the government to take equity stakes in their institutions. - http://www.judicialwatch.org/news/2009/may/judicial-watch-forces-release bank -bailout-documents linked in http://www.powerlineblog.com/archives/2009/05/023557.php c/o http://www.everymananisland.com/wp/?p=66 Source | |
| Alicia in Wonderland 2 | Top |
| Hier ligt Alicia nog in het ziekenhuis maar dinsdag 12 mei mochten mijn beide dames al met me mee naar huis. Dat was best nog snel als je in aanmerking neemt dat Lia meer dan twee keer zoveel bloed had verloren als bij een bevalling normaal is. Het was dan ook geen pretje geweest. Lia moest ingeleid worden en dat kan heftige weeën opleveren en dat deed het dan ook. Maar met drie zakjes bloed in haar systeem voelde ze zich de volgende dag alweer een stuk beter. Als zelfs een echte Maxi Cosi niet goed genoeg is voor mevrouw dan staat ons nog wat te wachten Mats en Ward, die ook zeer hadden meegeleefd, hadden de eer om de eerste bezoekers thuis te zijn Samen met papa Wijnoud natuurlijk en cadeautjes Fingerfood Hoewel Alicia vanaf het eerste moment fanatiek aan de borst was gegaan, wat haar in het ziekenhuis de liefdevolle bijnaam de piranha opleverde, kwamen we er gaandeweg achter dat Lia's produktie niet echt op gang was gekomen en onze kleine voor spek en bonen lag te zwoegen met alle teleurgestelde gevolgen van dien. Maar met een pink en een paar spuitjes Nutrilon hadden we binnen de kortste keren een zeer tevreden slapende baby. Oom Mantis (indonesische uitspraak van Mattijs) en tante Heather kwamen Lies ook welkom heten En Robert en Lucy ook, nog zonder Niels maar dat kan nooit lang duren De roze Michael Jackson look De volgende dag was Lia, die niet meer de bescherming van een baby in haar buik genoot, snotverkouden geworden. Dat kan je er ook nog wel bij hebben. Gelukkig hadden we een half uur na thuiskomst de dag ervoor al de kraamzorg in huis die een enorme steun is. Lia en Pieter krijgen baby-in-bad les De bergerboys maken kennis met hun nieuwste nichtje Lia lag boven te slapen en Pieter vergat beschuit met muisjes te smeren dus die hebben ze nog tegoed Alicia door Michiel gefotografeerd En vastgehouden door Matthijs Lekker beneden op de bank Cahterine, Gabriel en Caitlin kwamen ook bewonderen en namen direct maar een hele avondmaaltijd mee die we zo in de magnetron konden zetten waarvoor dank Omdat dat voeren met zo'n klein spuitje nogal bewerkelijk was kocht ik bij de apotheek een joekel waar in één keer 60 cc in kon. Het gevolg was dat ons piranhaatje haar melk zo snel naar binnen zoog dat ze daarna accuut krampjes kreeg en niet te genieten was tenzij je haar vasthield of een pink in haar mond stak. En dat van 5 uur in de middag tot 5 in de ochtend. Toen ging er bij mij eindelijk een licht op en na een voeding met het kleine spuitje lag ze als vanouds (voor zover je na 4 dagen over als vanouds kan spreken) als een roos te slapen. Alicia ligt lekker bij kraamzorgster Nicky zodat papa en mama even bij kunnen slapen Lia's klasgenoot Bahar kwam even langsfietsen En van al dat geadoreerd worden moet je natuurlijk wel even uitrusten En dan lig je net zoals papa | |
| Reasons Why - Nickel Creek | Top |
| This is my first installment of what I hope will be an ongoing series comparing my Peace Corps experience with my twin's. (My family's holding up our end, obviously!) So while I am busy being in Peace Corps Lesotho, my twin sister ( cherijo ) has just sworn in as a volunteer in Peace Corps Ecuador. It is a fact universally acknowledged that while there are certain aspects of Peace Corps which tend to be the same everywhere, e.g.: culture shock, problematic transport, alarmed fat-cheeked babies which stare at you, frustrations with Peace Corps Washington, the weakest link in our Peace Corps daisy chain (and no, I won't apologize for or qualify that statement; it's true), etc . . . mostly, your experience will be very different from a PCV's who lives in a different country. Even if the country is next door to yours. This is even more true if you are an ocean apart, as twinnie and I are now. For example, there are no alpacas in Lesotho, and she gets to hug baby alpacas (it's disgustingly cute). Also, different languages are spoken, we have different jobs and living situations, and so forth and so on. But when she sent a story about her experience in an Ecuadorian post office and challenged me to match it, I said, okay, that I can do. So, I present: the postal system in Ecuador vs. the one in Lesotho. (In twinnie's words) someone sent me a very nice and very much appreciated package in the mail, but with a value declared, and over 2 kg. so I and three other unfortunates got to go to the post office to pick up our packages. the following is a completely faithful account of what happend (the truth is stranger than fiction...). we get in a cab and tell the driver to take us to the central post office. we dismount somewhere that looks too small to be "central"--but hey, this is Ecuador. we ask the nice police officer at the door whether we're at the right address, but he tells us to go ask inside because he doesn't know. we find out we are in the wrong place, so we take another taxi, and arrive somewhere slightly larger and dingier. we present ourselves at the window and exchange our package slips, two passport copies, and $1.25 for a dinky unreadable receipt, then are told to wait until our names are called. we wait 15 minutes until they ask for the Cuerpo de Paz, and then are led into a back room where they demand the receipts, scold us for having overweight boxes, slit open said boxes and rifle the contents (fortunately no one's box had anything expensive or unexpected...). they then give us another receipt and tell us to wait further down the hallway where a bored looking clerk squints at our papers and types things for several minutes. she prints out two receipts and tells us to go pay the bank clerk conveniently located inside the post office. we pay $1.18 and our receipts are stamped, and we get an additional receipt, and we are sent back to the bored clerk, who tells us to cross the street and make photocopies. we stare in astonishment and check our Spanish. the nice police officer starts laughing, and we j-walk to the copy center, where the clerk takes pity on our obvious confusion, snatches our papers, makes the proper copies, and charges us 5 cents each. we return these copies and are sent to sign more papers, which we then cross the room to give to the (still laughing) police officer, who then finally gives us our packages. the whole process takes about an hour and a half. so, the moral of the story is that sometimes large packages get through... except if the customs agent is having a bad day. and if you declare a value, I'm definitely screwed. the sad part is that I was lucky today because there wasn't a line... it might have taken twice as long. so, I love packages and I love you all for sending packages! but DON'T DECLARE A VALUE, and make sure it's 2 kg or less. So, the postal system here is actually fairly reliable. At first we were warned to have our package-senders write things like "Jesus Loves You," "Religious Materials Enclosed" and "Stealing Is a SIN," etc. on them. This turned out to mostly unnecessary--almost every package gets here unscathed--though it did occasion some of my inventive relatives to send creative packages. For example, a Book of Mormon, razorbladed and filled with caramel-stuffed communion wafers. Religious materials, indeed! So the postal system here is okay, though it gets backed up at busy times. My story belongs to another volunteer in my district, Mokhotlong; her village is far enough from the camp town and the central post office that it gets its own post office, so she gets her mail there. Her story begins one dark and stormy afternoon when she'd just arrived in her village. The wind was howling fiercely, it was hailing, and she was shut up in her rondavel hoping not to be bothered by anyone. Of course, someone pounds on her door. "Ausi! Ausi! You must come!" Wretchedly, she puts on a coat and follows the guy into the storm. She is led to the chief's compound, and brought into an auxiliary rondavel. Once her eyes adjust, she sees a fire in the middle, surrounded by rows and rows of drying mail. She is presented with (slightly soggy) letters and cards, including a singing card someone sent her (which miraculously survived the storm). You see, the mail is carried to her village on horseback. A mail guy (think Paul Revere!) rides a grey horse to and from the camp town to fetch the mail a few times a week. And evidently, neither snow nor sleet nor driving wind deters him (well, maybe the snow--we'll see, shortly). This guy even went when there was only one letter--for my friend--waiting to be picked up, and delivered it to her door. Think UPS, with one guy wearing a blanket on horseback! Sure, I have annoying stories too, mostly regarding the extended lunch break the postal ladies at the main office take. I want a personal horseback-riding mail guy for my village! Be edified! In my next installment I shall compare Ecuadorian to Basotho food. Or alpacas to donkeys. Or maybe not. Wait in suspense (but not too much suspense; the inspiration has to come)! Source | |
| Lulu: To Sir With Love | Top |
| Iggy Pop plans Christmas album 2009 Int'l Sand Sculpture Festival Top 15 Amazing & Mysterious Castle Pictures Alarm bells ring over 'sexting' You dirty kids! You! With your filthy 'sexting' and alarming photo gizmos. Shame! Scouts Train to Fight Terrorists, and More A beast with no bite - Novice director fails to master the genius of Kankuro Kudo Shadowy Bilderberg group meet in Greece — and here's their address Carnal Nation - Violet Blue: Keeping the Internet filthy, smart, and literate Where would you take a $100,000 check that is also a suicide note - to the cops or to the -bank ? Donnie Yen Longs for Romance in New Film A tunnel to unite old rivals? Japan embraces the big cheese Texas Couple to Face Murder Charge for Shotgun Blast at Car that Killed Boy Bay to Breakers known for costumes, antics Unsung hero Expenses row: from Labour's old heartlands to the Tory shires, a nation united in howling outrage Melting ice could cause gravity shift Confucius Chow This is What a Sexless Marriage Feels Like The 25 Most Googled Gays The last hotbutton - What do Judy Blume, bleating bishops, and the Supreme Court have in common? Source | |
| Click-click-click of typing! | Top |
| So, here is my account of my first vacation and last phase of training, at last. I'm back to the cold cold mountains really early tomorrow morning, and am currently sitting outside the Peace Corps office in Maseru at a rondapicnic table (it's round, with a thatched roof like a rondavel and little stone blocks for chairs. Very cute. Everything's better rondified!), typing out last-minute e-mails and things. It's been a great, if busy and at times startling, few weeks. After writing my sleep-deprived e-mail to you in Mokhotlong, I got on the taxi to leave the mountains for the first time in a few months, along with a couple other people from my district. We stopped at Butha Buthe for the night (our neighboring district's camptown, about four hours away), ate really good pizza and ice cream (!), and gawked at their much more busy camptown (ours is pretty frontier-looking, even on a payday when everyone forms a huge line in front of the bank). We left for Maseru the next morning, hooked up with the rest of our traveling group, and headed off to South Africa . The differences between Lesotho and South Africa were pretty immediately apparent; we came down gradually out of the mountains into rolling flatlands ("now this is what I thought Africa would look like," said James, an English teacher in Mokhotlong) and were stopped by traffic cops who were efficient, polite, and unreceptive to bribe attempts. Once we got to Bloemfontein we were let off into a taxi rink which looked pretty much identical to that in Maseru (we exchanged looks wondering what we'd come to Bloem for) but once we got a cab to our hotel, we moved from the poorer (read: black) section of the city, we went from reactor towers overlooking the taxi rink, and streets papered with "cheap! safe! clean!" abortion flyers, to tree- and office building-lined streets, shiny glass storefronts, and white people. After showering in the hotel—let me interject that one's first shower in three months feels AMAZING—we went for dinner at a fish/steak restaurant in the mall nearby, which was a treat, but extremely disorienting. Despite the warnings of other PCVs, I didn't really realize how strange it would be to be walking around a mall after being in, essentially, the third world, for months. It was very difficult not to stare at everyone. Some of us tried to greet people in Sesotho (Bloem is still in the Sesotho-speaking part of South Africa ), and were replied to in perfect English. Anyway, we were immediately evident as tourists, and very quickly figured out that this was partly because we actually treated our (black) servers like human beings. Gives you a depressing but rather apt idea of what Bloem is like; it's the capital of the Free State in South Africa , which is evidently one of the more rural and conservative parts of the country (and conservative, in SA, means conserving some of the views of the former apartheid regime. You do the math). Despite that unpleasantness, which is always somewhat visible under the surface, it's a fun place to visit, especially for PCVs who've been out of touch with the Western world for a while, and I met some very nice people while I was there. The girl who cut my hair, for example, gave me her phone number and invited me to stay next time I passed through (an offer I hope to take her up on!). We basically spent the first few days in Bloem wandering the two malls there, eating waffles, drinking coffee, shopping, seeing movies, in my case getting my hair cut (I felt like a girl again!), etc. Bloem has its cultural charms, too, such as kids (and some bearded old men) walking around the malls barefoot. It's really weird to see bare feet ahead of you on the escalator! Some of the things I bought: shampoo (yes!), a muffin tin and a decent springform, spices, a couple nice shirts, colored paper and envelopes (so I can write to you people on nice paper instead of boring notebook paper), and gruyere and ORGANIC PEANUT BUTTER. I almost fainted in Woolworths' food section, which was beautiful, well-stocked, and made me miss living in New York . I didn't expect to be as disoriented as I was by my little dip back into Western culture; it made me miss the easy availability of things more than I thought. However, conversely, it also felt much more natural and relieving than I thought to come back to Lesotho . Well, once we'd stuffed our hotel rooms with purchases, and our stomachs with mall food, we ventured out to the rest of Bloem—to a Greek place (I miss ethnic food so…) and a sushi place, among others. Sushi was phenomenal. And we sampled the Bloem nightlife. As I mentioned, I was excited to see the Mystic Boer, one of Bloem's pubs, but the reality somewhat underwhelmed me. I did like the brightly-colored pictures of Boers on the walls, but not the boring techno house music. However, we randomly bumped into a PCV from South Africa who informed us that in Kimberley , near her site, the Boers will waltz, barefoot, to house music. It sounds like something I have to see—purely for anthropological reasons of course! The next night (Easter Eve?) we went to the sushi place and then back to the Greek place to dance. As there were approximately 24 PCVs from Lesotho in Bloem at that point, we sort of took over the dance floor and made the DJ play hip hop and Michael Jackson and stuff. It was awesome to go and dance with a bunch of friends! (And they had good sangria.) There was also quite a nice art museum (the Oliwenhuis, meaning olive house as it is surrounded by olive trees, evidently) which we went to on one of our last days there; it had a nice collection of contemporary art, and also some beautiful old landscapes and a cool sculpture garden. The best things there included an African carousel (unfortunately, since that Monday was a holiday, they didn't let us ride it—had they done that the experience would have been perfect), with cool African-esque carved aminals rather than the standard froufrou horsies. Also there was a flock of sculpted sheep, complete with injunctions not to sit on the sheep and little eartags and plaques explaining the deeply moving meaning of the sculpture (I think it related to the Boer War in the early 20 th century). We, naturally, were entranced and sat in the grass by the sheep to admire them and take funny pictures. So, Bloem—my first vacation!—was a lot of fun, partly because it enabled me to buy lots of nummy food and other things unavailable in Lesotho and, especially, Mokhotlong. Once we returned to Maseru , we got to see the rest of our training group and hear about their vacations (a couple ended up going to Cape Town , but most hung out around Maseru or Bloem). Training was mostly boring, though my loud and enthusiastic group made the best of it. We watched cheesy movies together, like Heidi's Christmas Story (we braided our hair for this experience) and I made a yummy layer cake, which we all ate with our hands. We also were allowed out of the training center after dark this time, since we're no longer trainees, so some of us sampled the nightlife of Maseru, which is, as it turns out, rather fun. For example, we went to a foam party (which, for those of us out of college for a while, is where they have a machine producing foam bubbles, which get all over the floor and everyone), which was messy but rather amusing, especially since it's in Maseru. Sadly, they played all house music there too. But, we met some nice Basotho who speak great English, which was great. Also, we were invited back to the US Ambassador's for a pool party (take 3!), where we drank wine and ate cheesy poofs on US State Department napkins. Also, the ambassador's wife showed us the feral kitty and her litter of kittens living under their topiary! We were enchanted, of course, and I cuddled a fat one (whom, in my mind, I named Makoenya) for about two hours. I fell in love, and am now pining! L I learned that taking a cat back to the States is much easier than taking a dog (you just have to get it a rabies shot), which strengthened my desire to adopt Makoenya the kitten, or one of my box kittens (I need help with this kitten problem!). Another cool thing is that the ambassador invited us to come to the Embassy's Fourth of July party, and invited a couple (including me) to stay at his house a few days prior! As I'm making it my project to get the hell out of Mokhotlong during the winter (which, remember, is in the Northern hemisphere's summer), this sounded fabulous to me. So, the break has been great, and it has been really nice to see everyone and buy yummy food and so forth, but I am looking forward to going back to my site (I'll leave at 6 AM tomorrow morning for a 9-hour bus ride—ick!). I've missed my students, and my rondavel, and my host family and my obnoxious cats. I may revise my opinion on all this when I get up there and it's already 25 degrees Fahrenheit at night. But really, I'm excited to go back and start teaching again (and make red velvet cake and/or cheesecake with the cream cheese I bought!). Oooh! Go see pictures from vacation (as well as the promised pictures of the box kittens and the sheeps on leashes) here at my photo website. The pictures from Bloemfontein are in the Bloemfontein gallery; all the rest are under the Peace Corps Lesotho gallery: http://pics.livejournal.com/raphaelle/gallery/0000ag7z?page=1 Also, I'm looking forward to the mail and packages probably awaiting me at home. I promise you reply letters on pretty colored paper once I get back to site and finish making sure my classes have actually done something for the past week and a half! Well, I've been on this computer too long, and I want to go buy an ice cream bar before it's too late! I can't be bothered to check it over right now, so I apologize for anything that doesn't make sense grammar-wise. Big hugs to all of you! Peace, love, and cream cheese, ~me | |
| This will touch your heart..... | Top |
| The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar . They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled. I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank . Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production . Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the bank , Dad would look at me hopefully. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.' Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly 'These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.' We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. 'When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.' He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. 'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,' he said. 'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.' No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. 'When you finish college, Son,' he told me, his eyes glistening, 'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.' The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me. The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. 'She probably needs to be changed,' she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. 'Look,' she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak. This truly touched my heart. I know it has yours as well. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings. 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 Good in others. The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller - Happy moments, praise God. - Difficult moments, seek God. - Quiet moments, worship God. - Painful moments, trust God. - Every moment, thank God. Source | |
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