<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196</id><updated>2024-11-01T05:22:53.118-04:00</updated><category term="New Jersey"/><category term="New York"/><category term="Pennlyvania"/><category term="birds"/><category term="crane"/><category term="cuddle"/><category term="dead"/><category term="dead end"/><category term="experience"/><category term="hidden  trees"/><category term="maneuver"/><category term="road"/><category term="roadway"/><category term="roaks"/><category term="states"/><category term="swamp"/><category term="trees"/><category term="trip man"/><category term="vacation"/><category term="waterway"/><title type='text'>Thoughts By The C</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughts of a father,teacher,grandparent, and so so much more.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-4460520970743228817</id><published>2010-03-28T09:50:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T12:04:47.721-04:00</updated><title type='text'>If God really loves us, how can He.......</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/God-Questions-Hal-Seed/dp/0978715306?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=thbythc-20&amp;amp;link_code=bil&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;The God Questions&quot; src=&quot;http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&amp;amp;ServiceVersion=20070822&amp;amp;ID=AsinImage&amp;amp;WS=1&amp;amp;Format=_SL160_&amp;amp;ASIN=0978715306&amp;amp;tag=thbythc-20&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/God-Questions-Hal-Seed/dp/0978715306?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=thbythc-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;(The God Questions: Click to review)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;1&quot; src=&quot;http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thbythc-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0978715306&quot; style=&quot;border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;&quot; width=&quot;1&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;There isn&#39;t a day that goes by that we don&#39;t read about a tragedy: a child is killed by a speeding car, a father of 5 dies of a sudden heart attack, people are paralyzed, others&amp;nbsp; stricken with a fatal illness, the list goes on.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;It is especially hurtful when such things &lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;1&quot; src=&quot;http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thbythc-20&amp;amp;l=bil&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0978715306&quot; style=&quot;border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;&quot; width=&quot;1&quot; /&gt;happen to those we love or know.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Often, it is at these moments that we begin to questions God&#39;s love, or even His exitence&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;After all,&amp;nbsp; wouldn&#39;t any loving god protect his so-called &quot;children&quot; ? How could God watch a child suffer and die?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;These and other questions are not only difficult to answer but to comprehend; especially, when we, ourselves, are grieving.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Certainly the attempt to answer these questions have baffled the scholars and religious leaders for centuries. The debate continues to this day.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Recently, I was asked to share my view on the subject of God allowing suffering to exist.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;I would&amp;nbsp; suggest, for a moment, that we imagine a world where God does protect us.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;A world of&amp;nbsp; Divine intervention.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;But first, we have to look at the world as it is. A world where we &lt;i&gt;know&lt;/i&gt; we are not fully protected. A world where at any moment, tragedy could strike.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;In this world, we constantly put ourselves in peril knowing full well the risks we are taking. We speed and ignore traffic regulations putting not only ourselves, but others in danger . We drink and eat to excess fully understanding the health hazards. We allow our children to be exposed to harmful environments and, frankly, dangerous situations. We engage in entertainment and activities that often result in injury and death: skiing, surfing, playing sports, mountain climbing, rafting.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Of course we cannot protect our children or ourselves&amp;nbsp; from every situation. We want to live a full life and many times it is the &lt;i&gt;risk&lt;/i&gt; that entices us.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;This is as it should be.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;But then, if we&amp;nbsp; live our lives the way we do with the understanding that&lt;i&gt; God does not fully protect us&lt;/i&gt;, how would we live life if He did?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;In other words&lt;i&gt;, a life without consequences&lt;/i&gt;: a life where we need not worry about protecting ourselves because God will do the protecting for us. There is no need to give details here, but for myself, I assure you; I would have eaten &lt;i&gt;bacon&lt;/i&gt; for breakfast this morning no matter what warning my&amp;nbsp; doctor gave. And that&#39;s just a start.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Yes, sometimes bad things, horrible things, happen to good people. God &lt;i&gt;could&lt;/i&gt; pick and choose who to save, but how would we feel then? How would we feel knowing that God chose another over us, or over one we love?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;If God protected us all, what further limits would we then exceed? If God protected our children what parental responsibilities would we naturally neglect?&amp;nbsp; If God only chose the&lt;i&gt; truly good &lt;/i&gt;to protect - Oh, wait a minute - then He wouldn&#39;t have anyone to protect.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Maybe this once, God has it right. Perhaps He &lt;i&gt;has&lt;/i&gt; thought it through. Perhaps our&amp;nbsp; prayer,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&quot;God, please change the laws of the universe for my convenience.&quot;&amp;nbsp; should expect an answer.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;I share these thoughts only because I was asked to. It is just one way that I personally dealt with one of the many &quot;God&quot; questions I have.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Please do not think for one moment that it is the true or only&amp;nbsp; answer, or that I believe anyone should accept it as truth.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;It is merely: a thought from the C&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
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I even let cars from the side streets get ahead of me. &lt;b&gt;That&#39;s when it all began.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The first person, a young lady, inched her way in front of me and gave me a pleasant smile and a hardy wave.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I felt good so I did it again. The same result. Wow! I was really making people happy. Good&amp;nbsp; old Jim. What a great guy. I let a few more in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Suddenly, there was a blaring of a horn. As I looked in the rear view mirror, I saw the distorted face of the driver behind me. Apparently&lt;i&gt;, he&lt;/i&gt; didn&#39;t think I was so great. Every car I let in meant one more care he had to wait for.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He had a point. I waved to him indicating that I understood.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He must have forgiven me because he held up his finger indicating that he thought I was &quot;Number one&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just&amp;nbsp; at the last side street before the light, there was yet again another driver trying to merge. This time, thinking about my new found friend behind me, I&amp;nbsp; sped up and closed the little gap between me and the front car..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The&amp;nbsp; light turned red, of course. My car door window was now positioned right in front the driver&#39;s hood. I turned my head and saw the driver, full faced,&amp;nbsp; glaring at me.&amp;nbsp; Like the other driver, he signaled me .&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Perhaps they &lt;i&gt;didn&#39;t &lt;/i&gt;think I was &quot;number one&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I imagined what they would all say when they got home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi Dear, how was your day?&quot;&amp;nbsp; &quot; I had a great trip home. There was this nice guy who let me merge into the lane so that I didn&#39;t have to wait&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hi Honey! How was your day?&quot;&amp;nbsp; &quot; &lt;i&gt;Terrible&lt;/i&gt;, I had this idiot in front of me who would have let the whole town in front him if I didn&#39;t stop him.&amp;nbsp; It cost me an hour&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi Sweetie, How was your day?&quot; &quot; People just don&#39;t care aboutothers&amp;nbsp; anymore. It&#39;s always &#39;Me, me, me&#39;.&lt;br /&gt;
I had this&amp;nbsp; &amp;amp;*^&amp;amp;&amp;nbsp; guy block me from merging into the traffic.Right at the light, no less.What was his rush?&amp;nbsp; He couldn&#39;t even let ONE car in front of him.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t blame them. I wonder how many times I judge people not knowing pr caring about the full story.&lt;br /&gt;
Just a thought by the C.&lt;br /&gt;
By the way, I barley made the next light. My friend didn&#39;t. I thought it best &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; to look in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;
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Hey! Summer&#39;s coming!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-bin/click?id=vVyVrWmkKbc&amp;amp;offerid=161571.10000084&amp;amp;type=4&amp;amp;subid=0&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;Jillian Michaels&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://ad.doubleclick.net/ad/N5002.linkshare/B2734057.40;sz=300x250;ord=[timestamp]?&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;1&quot; src=&quot;http://ad.linksynergy.com/fs-bin/show?id=vVyVrWmkKbc&amp;amp;bids=161571.10000084&amp;amp;type=4&amp;amp;subid=0&quot; width=&quot;1&quot; /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/5068759510392984807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/03/sorry-just-trying-to-be-nice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/5068759510392984807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/5068759510392984807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/03/sorry-just-trying-to-be-nice.html' title='Sorry! Just trying to be nice.'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-1300029124270722911</id><published>2010-03-14T06:55:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T08:40:31.953-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Middle. A Question.</title><content type='html'>A teenager moves to Maple Avenue. The house is directly in the center of the corners of West Street and&amp;nbsp; East Street. At the intersection of Maple and West there is a thriving church with an active youth group.&lt;br /&gt;
On the other end of Maple at East Street, there is a youth gang who are into drugs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Members of both the youth group and the gang ask the teen to join them. The teen is reluctant and says &quot;no&quot; to both.&lt;br /&gt;
Once the teen is settled in, both groups offer the invitation again. . And again the teen replies,&quot; no&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Two questions: 1. Which group will give up on the teen first, the youth group or the gang?&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; 2.&amp;nbsp; Why?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a class=&quot;mc_embed_close&quot; href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=4273777487261155196&amp;amp;postID=1300029124270722911#&quot; id=&quot;mc_embed_close&quot; style=&quot;display: none;&quot;&gt;Close&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/1300029124270722911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-middle-question.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/1300029124270722911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/1300029124270722911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-middle-question.html' title='In the Middle. A Question.'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-4252472745699285617</id><published>2010-02-28T07:28:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T14:42:01.735-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What  Will be Said of Me?</title><content type='html'>I sat quietly as each of her friends and family members spoke of her: how much she meant to them; what a blessing she was.&amp;nbsp; I had know her for only 2 years, but we had become close friend. We talked of many things, but she had never confided that her time here was so limited.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I still don&#39;t know if I would have wanted&amp;nbsp; her to tell me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I knew her family and friends only through my conversations with her. As they tearfully reminisced of her, I wondered if they realized how much&lt;i&gt; they&lt;/i&gt; meant to her; how much of a blessing they were in&lt;i&gt; her&lt;/i&gt; life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I came to believe that &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; is the important part of the memorial service.&amp;nbsp; We certainly should share the memories of those departed, but what is uppermost is not what a blessing they had bee to us, but what kind of blessing we were to them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have since reflected on those who have gone before me. I have tried to hear their words if I had been first. Would they be able to truthfully say that I was a special part of their lives?&amp;nbsp; Would&amp;nbsp; they be able to truthfully say that I made a difference? In other words, could they truthfully say all those wonderful things we hear so often after a death?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So many in my life have been a true blessing to me. I pray now that God&amp;nbsp; helps me each day to in some way&amp;nbsp; be a blessing to them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just a Thought by the C.&lt;br /&gt;
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I want to thank today&#39;s sponsor and encourage you to take a moment and read their message&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.e-zeeinternet.com/&quot; style=&quot;color: black; font-family: Geneva,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: none;&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot; title=&quot;HTML Hit Counter&quot;&gt;HTML Hit Counter&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/4252472745699285617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-will-be-said-of-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/4252472745699285617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/4252472745699285617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/what-will-be-said-of-me.html' title='What  Will be Said of Me?'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-6615877872699802172</id><published>2010-02-21T09:37:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T09:45:22.001-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One small space in the universe</title><content type='html'>25 years ago, Vivian, my wife, had to have a major operation. It was, to say the least, a stressful time. On the morning of the operation, I was directed to the main floorof the hospital where I would wait for the results of the&amp;nbsp; two hour procedure. Unlike today&#39;s waiting room,s which are set off, have a t.v., coffee, and reading materials, in those days one simply sat in the main lobby, watching as visitors went to the informmation desk for passes which allowed them access the patients.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My view of the elevators was blocked by a long hallway. As time went by, my eyes were glued to the entrance, hoping to see a smiling doctor with news of Vivian. Without notice, 3 people imerged around the bend. A lady in her 40&#39;s and a man about the same age with his arm around an older women who had her head in her hands crying. It didn&#39;t take long to realize what had happened. While the&amp;nbsp; ladies sat, the gentleman went to the wall where a pay phone was waiting. As he made his obligatory calls about the sad news, I watch helplessly as the the young lady tried unsuccessfully to comfort the older. I wanted to get up and just give her hug and tell her how truly&amp;nbsp; sorry I was. Within moments they were gone. Once again my worry about Vivian took priority.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The promised 2 hours had long passed, when suddenly a small&amp;nbsp; disturbance was heard by the main desk. Out from the hallway came a young lady in a wheelchair with her husband smiling beside it, holding a giant teddy bear, balloons and flowers. Nurses gathered by the wheelchair to take a look at the new born baby as the proud father left to get the car. The joy and excitement took my attention away from my own worries as I watched this grand moment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And as quickly they appeared they were now gone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was now over 3 hour,s and I my worry turned to panic. Then it happened. Around the corner came the doctor,but not with a smiling face. My heart dropped as I got up to meet him. When our eyes made contact, what was a stern concerned face, turn into a smile with the words, &quot;Everything, went well&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As I look back at that day, and that &quot;space&quot; by the hallway, I realized that I witnessed the total life span:&lt;br /&gt;
new life, continuing life, and the end of life.&amp;nbsp; I also realized that those who shared that space have completely different memories of it. The sadness and loss of hope, the joy and future hopes and new responsibilities, and the thanks for the blessing given of&amp;nbsp; continued life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I try to think of the world as a similar &quot;space&quot; where so many events are happening at the same time. I try to remember if saddness comes my way there is joy directed at another. If in my life I suffer a lose, at the same time someone welcomes a new child And, when I seem to lose all hope, someone is granted a blessing and is able to contine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just a thought from the C.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;...........................................................................................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;
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I would like to thank this week&#39;s sponsor and ask that you click the link and then click on the picture. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://vcoddington.dealscenter.us/health/stop-smoking-native-remedies&quot;&gt;Stop smoking Naturally - as seen on the &quot;View&quot;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/6615877872699802172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/one-small-space-in-universe.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/6615877872699802172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/6615877872699802172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/one-small-space-in-universe.html' title='One small space in the universe'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-9077193274648606939</id><published>2010-02-14T08:45:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T10:38:27.867-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fallen Leaves</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Pulling into the driveway which separates my front yard from the side yard, I reluctantly looked to the the left and then to the tight. There they were, again ,with twice as many waiting for me in the backyard. The brown crispy leaves were layered on the ground as high as the snow after a winter&#39;s blizzard. They almost seemed to be laughing at me, waiting to be gathered up while ruining my weekend.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh! How I hated those leaves..&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Suddenly, I remembered that just a few weeks back, as Vivian and I were driving home, we caught a glimpse of our home from the main road. There she was, set back from the side road nuzzled deep within the rainbowed colored trees that surrounded her. The bright colored reddish orange leaves perfectly blending with the light browns and deep yellows . A baby sleeping in her mother&#39;s arms couldn&#39;t look more content. Our house looked like a picture on an Autumn calender. How fortunate we were. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh! How I loved those leaves.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;These were the same leaves that in the torturous heat of the summer gave me shade and protection from the fiery rays of the sun as I sat on the bench swing and read a book or watched the grandchildren playing in the pool. These same leaves were home to the variety of birds which became our singing neighbors in both spring and summer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh! How thankful I was for those leaves. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;And now, I thought, just because these same leaves have become old and will cause me what really is a small inconvenience, I complain and want nothing to do with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;I can only hope I do not treat people like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;Just a “Thought by the C.&lt;/span&gt;”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Come join our Newsletter, &quot;Thought&#39;s by the C.&quot; at:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://eepurl.com/iLJI&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;http://eepurl.com/iLJI&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt; &amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/9077193274648606939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/fallen-leaves.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/9077193274648606939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/9077193274648606939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/fallen-leaves.html' title='Fallen Leaves'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-3350923955707306857</id><published>2010-02-07T09:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T12:45:28.785-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birds"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="crane"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cuddle"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dead"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dead end"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="experience"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hidden  trees"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="maneuver"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="New Jersey"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="New York"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Pennlyvania"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="road"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roadway"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="roaks"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="states"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="swamp"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trees"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trip man"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vacation"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="waterway"/><title type='text'>Dead Ends</title><content type='html'>&lt;script type=&quot;text/javascript&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var gaJsHost = ((&quot;https:&quot; == document.location.protocol) ? &quot;https://ssl.&quot; : &quot;http://www.&quot;);&lt;br /&gt;document.write(unescape(&quot;%3Cscript src=&#39;&quot; + gaJsHost + &quot;google-analytics.com/ga.js&#39; type=&#39;text/javascript&#39;%3E%3C/script%3E&quot;));&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type=&quot;text/javascript&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;try {&lt;br /&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker(&quot;UA-12947991-1&quot;);&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;br /&gt;} catch(err) {}&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you shied away from something because you felt it would just lead to a dead end. Read on as I share with you my &quot;dead end&quot; experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   For 43 years, Vivian and I have loved to take off on weekends just to explore new places. We drive for hours into Pennsylvania, New York, and Connecticut among other states. We especially love the mountains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   On one of these explorations, I mistakenly turned onto a dead end road. The sign was set back so by the time I noticed, it was to late. Vivian wanted me to back up . The road looked deserted, and she was sure finding a place to turn around later would be a disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a &quot;man&quot; I didn&#39;t listen and told her not to worry about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The dirt road soon became a bed of rocks with tress cuddled close around us. Little bumps became small rained out canyons as I managed to maneuver around them. My wife began telling me ..... Well let&#39;s skip that part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    About a mile further, the tress gave way to the beginning of huge swamp. A little further, it looked like a scene from &quot;The Devil and Tom Walker&quot; Stumps of long ago dead, rotted trees gathered in its middle, with an occasional prostrate tree half in -half out of the waterway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   We observed a statue like crane hidden within the overgrown moss, hanging plants, and eerie variety of greenish brown plant life, as it waited for its lunch to happen by. Though we couldn&#39;t see them, the sound of what seem like a thousand birds was all around us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    We got out of the car and walked along the bog; it seemed as though we were in another time. We explored, by foot, for about an hour - each minute more exciting than the last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Upon leaving, we finally found the end of the road, and yes it was mighty difficult to get the car turned around. But what an experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I thought how lucky we were that we didn&#39;t see the &quot;Dead End&quot; sign. How much we would have missed that day: the great memories, the moments to share. I wondered how many other dead ends we have passed by just because they would eventually lead to &quot;nowhere&quot;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    I also wondered in life how many opportunities, relationships, and life experiences we neglected thinking,  &quot;what&#39;s the sense&quot;, they would only lead to nowhere anyway, not fully realizing that on the way to the dead end, we might enjoy some of the best experiences of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I can assure you, that there are few &quot;dead ends&quot; that are passed by me now, both on the road and in my life. Just a &quot;Thought by the C.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/3350923955707306857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/dead-ends.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/3350923955707306857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/3350923955707306857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/02/dead-ends.html' title='Dead Ends'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4273777487261155196.post-1966486447133705196</id><published>2010-01-31T10:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T18:38:12.985-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to Thoughts by the C..</title><content type='html'>Over my years of teaching, I have taken the opportunity to share some thoughts with my students, &quot;Life Lesson Day.&quot; They loved it. Not the lessons, of course, but the fact that we put  English and history on hold.&lt;br /&gt;
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Last week I became a member of&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt; facebook&lt;/span&gt;, out of curiosity. I have since heard from over 100 former students. Some are from my first class of 1985. I can&#39;t imagine that many of them are older than I was when I first taught them.  I love to  see the pictures, the children, and hear the updates - &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;many wonderful, some sad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Now that I have lived 63 years, been father for 42, a grandfather for 11, and a teacher for 25, I decided to share some of my thoughts with others who &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;may&lt;/span&gt; be interested.&lt;br /&gt;
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This &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;blog&lt;/span&gt; is not intended to be formal or topic oriented. If you give it a try and enjoy it, I welcome you, and I hope you become a &lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;follower&lt;/span&gt;. I will look forward to your comments and thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I invite you to click into the archive file on the upper right side to view some of my posts.&lt;br /&gt;
Also, I would encourage you to join my newsletter &lt;i&gt;Thoughts by the C.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://eepurl.com/iYpx&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;http://eepurl.com/iYpx&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://eepurl.com/iLJI' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/feeds/1966486447133705196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/01/thoghts-by-c.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/1966486447133705196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4273777487261155196/posts/default/1966486447133705196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtsbythec.blogspot.com/2010/01/thoghts-by-c.html' title='Welcome to Thoughts by the C..'/><author><name>Grandpa Jim</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06511529146570955618</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>