Monday thoughts from the buffalo


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"Remind Me, God"

When I am lonely and
Perhaps I feel despair,
Let not my ailing heart forget
That YOU hear every prayer...

Remind me that no matter what
I do or fail to do,
There still is hope for as long
as I have FAITH in YOU...

Let not my eyes be blinded by
Some folly I commit,
But help me to regret my wrong
And make amends for it.

Inspire me to put my fears
Upon a hidden shelf,
And in the future try not to
Feel sorry for myself.

Give me the restful sleep I need
Before another dawn,
And bless me in the morning with
THE COURAGE TO GO ON.


Patricia

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1. Wake Up!
Decide to have a good day.
"Today is the day the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and
be glad in it." Psalms 118:24

2. Dress Up!
The best way to dress up is to put on a smile. A smile is
an inexpensive way to improve your looks.
"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man
looks at outward appearance; but the Lord looks at the
heart." I Samuel 16:7

3. Shut Up!
Say nice things and learn to listen. God gave us two ears
and one mouth, so He must have meant for us to do twice as
much listening as talking.
"He who guards his lips guards his soul." Proverbs 13:3

4. Stand Up!
For what you believe in. Stand for something or you will
fall for anything.
"Let us not be weary in doing good; for at the proper time,
we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as
we have opportunity, let us do good..." Galatians 6:9-10

5. Look Up!
To the Lord.
"I can do everything through Christ who strengthens me". Philippians
4:13

6. Reach Up!
For something higher.
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not unto
your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him,
and He will direct your path." Proverbs 3:5-6

7. Lift Up!
Your Prayers.
"Do not worry about anything; instead PRAY ABOUT EVERYTHING."
Philippians 4:6


A POSITIVE THOUGHT

If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it. If He had a
wallet, your photo would be in it. He sends you flowers every spring,
and a sunrise every morning. Whenever you want to talk, He'll listen.
He could live anywhere in the universe, and He chose your heart. What
about the Christmas gift He sent you in Bethlehem; not to mention
that Friday at Calvary. Face it, He's crazy about you.



Christine




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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.

Ross


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The Right One

My grandma and grandpa celebrated their 55th anniversary surrounded
by their children, grandchildren, and a lifetime collection of
friends. I thought that Grandma had forgotten anything she may have
known about being single. I was wrong.

As she was getting ready for the party, arranging her long white hair
in a French twist, my grandma commented, "I'm always surprised when I
look in the mirror and see all these wrinkles." Holding her hand over
her heart, she added, "In here, I'm still a young woman." She applied
bright red lipstick.

I sat on the bed watching her primp. "So, what is the secret of a
long happy marriage?"

She sprayed floral cologne on her wrists. "Don't settle."

I must have looked puzzled.

"Don't settle. That is all you need to know." She tucked a stray wisp
of hair in place.

I twisted my own hair around my fingers hoping to coax it into curl.
Turning the page of Grandma's photo album, I saw an out-of-focus
photo of nondescript steps.

"Where's this?"

"That is where your grandpa proposed to me; we had known each other
six weeks. When he first saw me, he told his cousin that he had seen
the girl he was going to marry. That was before we had even spoken
one word to each other."

"Six weeks?" My images of Edwardian modesty shattered. My grandma was
born in 1890. Opposite the picture of the steps was a sepia studio
portrait of a ringleted young woman with limpid eyes. That was
Grandma, in the high-collared lace blouse, her mouth primly shut, her
huge eyes staring off into the unknown future. "I thought people used
to have a long courtship."

"I had a long courtship, it just wasn't with your grandfather." She
giggled. Grandma's eyes had not changed since that young girl held
her rigid pose for the photographer.

My grandma was one of 13 children. Her parents had a large house
which Grandma described as a mansion. They were an unusual family for
the turn-of-the century. One of Grandma's sisters was a bookkeeper.
Her sister Ceil was an attorney; a plaque on a building in
McKeesport, Pennsylvania marks the site of her office.

Grandma always wanted to be a wife and mother. She was 25 when she
married my grandfather.

"Grandma, I always thought things were different back then. I thought
maybe Grandpa came over and sat around the den or parlor or whatever
for years before he proposed."

Grandma smiled and moved closer, just like one of my friends settling
in for a good gossip. "I kept company with another man for six years.
He kept pushing me to marry him. I kept saying `I don't want to leave
my mother,' or I'm not ready.' I said this, I said that. The truth
was, there was no spark; he was nice, but he just wasn't the one."

I leaned forward. The years had fallen off Grandma's voice. Her
speech sounded young, expectant.

"Everyone kept saying, `Annie, so when are we dancing at your
wedding?' People talked. People have always liked to talk. There was
talk I'd end up an old maid. We took that kind of thing seriously. I
didn't say anything. I kept going out with him, but something stopped
me from getting engaged. He wasn't the one. My mother was worried
about me. I wasn't worried. I knew that there was someone, somewhere.
I wasn't ready to settle."

She looked at our faces in the ornately framed mirror. In my face she
saw the young woman she had been, in her face I saw my future. She
squeezed my hand.

"So, then I met your grandfather. He saw me out walking with my
friends and found, who knows how, that he knew my cousin. In a few
days, he managed to come calling with my cousin. I never saw the
other man again."

"Six weeks later your grandpa proposed." She started laughing until
tears gathered in her eyes, tiny droplets glinting like the diamond
stud earrings in her ears. "He said he needed a wife to manage his
money. He didn't have two dimes to rub together."

"Did you know that before you married him?" I asked, thinking of the
tales I had heard about her well off parents.

"Of course I knew that. I also knew he was the one I had waited for,"
she said. She looked at our faces in the ornately framed mirror. In
my face she saw the young woman she had been; in her face I saw my
future. I kissed Grandma's cheek, knowing I would never settle. I
would wait for the right one, and now I was certain I would know him
when I saw him.


Christine


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Father's Love Letter
http://www.fathersloveletter.com/fllpreviewlarge.html

Christine

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