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friendship"/><category term="the existence of God"/><category term="the first thanksgiving"/><category term="the human body"/><category term="the king"/><category term="the last time"/><category term="the love of a child"/><category term="the magic of a smile"/><category term="the power of a smile"/><category term="the seven ancient wonders of the world"/><category term="the seven wonders of the world"/><category term="the song Taps"/><category term="the story of Jonah"/><category term="the story of Taps"/><category term="the story of the song Taps"/><category term="the tablecloth"/><category term="the truce of world war 1"/><category term="thief"/><category term="thing&#39;s I have learned"/><category term="things life taught me"/><category term="things life teaches"/><category term="thoughts about cancer"/><category term="thoughts about mothers"/><category term="thousand marbles"/><category term="through a child&#39;s eyes"/><category term="time is valuable"/><category term="timeline"/><category term="times of suffering"/><category term="times of trial"/><category term="to do list"/><category term="today&#39;s world"/><category term="toddlers"/><category term="tomato garden"/><category term="tomatoes"/><category term="touching story"/><category term="traditions of Christmas"/><category term="tragedy"/><category term="treasure"/><category term="tree and a boy"/><category term="triple filter test"/><category term="trouble"/><category term="troubles"/><category term="true"/><category term="trusting others"/><category term="truths"/><category term="truths of life"/><category term="ugly"/><category term="updates"/><category term="useful"/><category term="uses of Coke"/><category term="using a weakness"/><category term="value of a penny"/><category term="value of friendship"/><category term="value your time"/><category term="values"/><category term="values of friendship"/><category term="very punny jokes"/><category term="warning"/><category term="warning others"/><category term="weakness"/><category term="wealthy family"/><category term="whale"/><category term="what is peace"/><category term="what matters in life"/><category term="what really matters in life"/><category term="what&#39;s the meaning of life"/><category term="where does life go"/><category term="where is God"/><category term="where&#39;s God"/><category term="wheres God in disaster"/><category term="wheres God in disasters"/><category term="wife"/><category term="wife abuse"/><category term="window"/><category term="wise words"/><category term="wish"/><category term="wishes"/><category term="women"/><category term="work force"/><category term="work hard"/><category term="work together"/><category term="workers"/><category term="working hard"/><category term="world population"/><category term="world traditions of Christmas"/><category term="world war 2 story"/><category term="world wonders"/><category term="world wonders of the ancients"/><category term="worry"/><category term="worry chart"/><category term="worrying"/><category term="worrying about life"/><category term="wrapping paper"/><category term="wrinkle"/><category term="wrong accusations"/><category term="wrong decisions"/><category term="years"/><category term="young man"/><title type='text'>&quot;Soup and Stories for the Heart&quot;</title><subtitle type='html'>This is a place where people can read inspiring, motivating, or heartwarming short stories, collected from around the web, my friends, or other people, that may be a kind of &quot;soup&quot; for someone&#39;s heart.&#xa;&#xa;You can also visit my main page &quot;Good Time Stories&quot; @ http://goodtimestories.wordpress.com</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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>187</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-1831048381199290416</id><published>2014-06-04T17:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2014-06-04T17:04:23.193-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Circumstances"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dealing With Circumstances"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hands"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Michael Jordan"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Nuggets of Wisdom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Pete Sampras"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thought Provoking"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Truth"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wisdom"/><title type='text'>Whose Hands?</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xXY77Mt8CdU/U4-zxRcXVpI/AAAAAAAACMs/8ggdsHLvZZU/s1600/Hands.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xXY77Mt8CdU/U4-zxRcXVpI/AAAAAAAACMs/8ggdsHLvZZU/s1600/Hands.jpg&quot; height=&quot;212&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; text-align: start;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Josep Ma. Rosell via CC Flickr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Perception of the circumstances and things that happen throughout our lives can be so very important. Sometimes, when things happen, it seems as if we have no control over them…they are out of our hands. But…are the circumstances that we experience REALLY out of our hands?&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;IT DEPENDS WHOSE HANDS THEY ARE IN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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A basketball in my hands is worth about $19.&lt;br /&gt;A basketball in Michael Jordan’s hands is worth about $33 million.&lt;br /&gt;It depends whose hands it’s in.&lt;/div&gt;
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A baseball in my hands is worth about $6.&lt;br /&gt;A baseball in Mark Mcquire’s hands is worth $19 million.&lt;br /&gt;It depends whose hands it’s in.&lt;/div&gt;
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A tennis racket is useless in my hands.&lt;br /&gt;A tennis racket in Pete Sampras’ hands is a Wimbledon Championship&lt;br /&gt;It depends whose hands it’s in.&lt;/div&gt;
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A rod in my hands will keep away a wild animal.&lt;br /&gt;A rod in Moses’ hands will part the mighty sea.&lt;br /&gt;It depends whose hands it’s in.&lt;/div&gt;
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A sling shot in my hands is a kid’s toy.&lt;br /&gt;A sling shot in David’s hand is a mighty weapon.&lt;br /&gt;It depends whose hands it’s in.&lt;/div&gt;
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Two fish and 5 loaves of bread in my hands is a couple of fish sandwiches.&lt;br /&gt;Two fish and 5 loaves of bread in God’ hands will feed thousands.&lt;br /&gt;It depends whose hands it’s in.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;As you see now it depends whose hands it’s in. So put your concerns, your worries your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your families and your relationships in God’s hands because — It depends whose hands it’s in!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/1831048381199290416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/06/whose-hands.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/1831048381199290416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/1831048381199290416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/06/whose-hands.html' title='Whose Hands?'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xXY77Mt8CdU/U4-zxRcXVpI/AAAAAAAACMs/8ggdsHLvZZU/s72-c/Hands.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-3259979090416856140</id><published>2014-05-26T16:32:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2014-05-26T16:32:26.594-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Alabama"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="American Flags"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Avenue of Heroes"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Flags"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Magnolia Cemetary"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mobile"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mobile Alabama"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mobile National Cemetary"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Rememberance"/><title type='text'>Every Flag Tells a Story At Mobile’s Historic Magnolia &amp; National Cemeteries</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFwASsjYvUU/U4PO47Nn1qI/AAAAAAAABCE/8tfnSy8ekZw/s1600/blog+al+com.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFwASsjYvUU/U4PO47Nn1qI/AAAAAAAABCE/8tfnSy8ekZw/s1600/blog+al+com.JPG&quot; height=&quot;209&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #666666; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; text-align: start;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: blog.al.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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The one thing I enjoy is looking for inspiring and heartwarming stories of all kinds of occasions, experiences and places around the world. Recently, I came across the following article, which, to me, was an interesting and heartwarming story of a national cemetery in Alabama. Since the story and the happenings in the cemetery take place only twice a year (Memorial Day and Veterans Day), I thought that it would be something nice to share with you as we celebrate Memorial Day!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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The Avenue of Heroes at Magnolia Cemetery is one again festooned with American flags, thanks to family members who have donated service members’ casket flags. Flown twice a year, at Memorial Day and Veterans Day, the flags&amp;nbsp;line the cemetery’s entrances at Ann Street and at Virginia Street.&lt;/div&gt;
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The cemetery started the program with the first display of flags in 2007.&lt;/div&gt;
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The Veterans Administration honors deceased veterans with a large, 6-foot-by-8-foot flag to drape over his or her casket at the funeral. Traditionally, the flag is folded and handed to the surviving spouse after the service. “Most people get one&amp;nbsp;and think, ‘What do I do with this?’” said Tom McGehee, president of the Friends of Magnolia Cemetery. “Then they sit on a shelf or in a closet.”&lt;/div&gt;
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After a flag is donated to the cemetery, it’s hung from a pole with an engraved plaque attached that includes the veteran’s name, rank, branch of service and war, if applicable, said Janet Savage, executive director of Magnolia Cemetery.&lt;/div&gt;
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It takes two days for Mark Halseth, cemetery superintendent, to put up all the flags. As of today, 65 flags are flying at the cemetery. “The Internet is amazing,” said Savage, noting that 24 of the flags are from out of state from families who learned about the program online.&lt;/div&gt;
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Savage’s own uncle’s flag is among those flying at Magnolia. “He was missing in action in World War II, and his flag had been in the closet for 60 years,” she said. “There are a lot of stories out there.”&lt;/div&gt;
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“It really is a pretty sight on a breezy day,” said McGehee.&lt;/div&gt;
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When the flags are taken down, they’re stored at the cemetery office until the next holiday. The Friends group even bought a dryer to completely dry the flags before they go into storage.&lt;/div&gt;
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For more information about the Avenue of Heroes program, contact Janet Savage at (251) 432-8672.&lt;/div&gt;
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Meanwhile, each of the 3,867 graves at the adjacent Mobile National Cemetery received a miniature American flag, stuck 12 inches from the front of the headstone, on Friday, as they do every Memorial Day.&lt;/div&gt;
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Usually, a group volunteers to put out the flags and pick them back up, but this year no one stepped up, said Larry Robinson, program support assistant at Barrancas National Cemetery at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola.&lt;/div&gt;
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“We have a contract to put out the flags in case we don’t have volunteers,” Robinson said.&lt;/div&gt;
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In Pensacola, Boy Scouts are volunteering to adorn the markers of some 30,000 graves, he said.&lt;/div&gt;
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Established in 1865, Mobile National Cemetery holds the remains of veterans of eight wars: the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, War Between the States, Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II, Korean War and Vietnam War, according to a Department of Veterans Affairs brochure.&lt;/div&gt;
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National Cemetery is a closed cemetery, meaning no more interments&amp;nbsp;can take place there.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/3259979090416856140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/05/every-flag-tells-story-at-mobiles.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/3259979090416856140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/3259979090416856140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/05/every-flag-tells-story-at-mobiles.html' title='Every Flag Tells a Story At Mobile’s Historic Magnolia &amp; National Cemeteries'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFwASsjYvUU/U4PO47Nn1qI/AAAAAAAABCE/8tfnSy8ekZw/s72-c/blog+al+com.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-3479024641731042854</id><published>2014-05-26T16:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2014-05-26T16:33:33.352-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="All American Wars"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="America&#39;s Wars"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="American Revolution"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Civil War"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Indian Wars"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="KIA"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Korean War"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memorial day"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mexican War"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="MIA"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sacrifice"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Soldiers"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Spanish American War"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Veterans"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="War of 1812"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="War Statistics"/><title type='text'>Memorial Day: A Time to Remember</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6nVDP5fdgUw/U4PPMTvkcMI/AAAAAAAABCM/RURfYOngOg0/s1600/My+Arlington.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6nVDP5fdgUw/U4PPMTvkcMI/AAAAAAAABCM/RURfYOngOg0/s1600/My+Arlington.jpg&quot; height=&quot;239&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Me!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;It has always fascinated me how many people have sacrificed their lives or the quality of their life for the freedom that all Americans enjoy every day. I can’t imagine the impact that these misfortunes have on not only the soldiers, but the lives of their families and friends.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;I always take the time each Memorial Day to think of the soldiers and the freedom that we have and say a little prayer for all of those who are in harm’s way today.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Unfortunately, I am embarrassed and sorry to say, that I don’t think many people REALLY are grateful for the many things that they take pleasure in because of what our soldiers and veterans have sacrificed. It is for that reason that I decided to post some statistics of all of the wars that America has fought. I have found the following information on the&lt;a href=&quot;http://www1.va.gov/opa/publications/factsheets/fs_americas_wars.pdf&quot; style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #990000; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;“Department of Foreign Affairs”&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;website called&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www1.va.gov/opa/publications/factsheets/fs_americas_wars.pdf&quot; style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #990000; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;“America’s Wars.”&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;It is my hope that these stats will open your eyes and give you a clearer picture of exactly how much has been sacrificed for this country during the past 200 years or so.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
——————–&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;American Revolution (1775-1783)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(1)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;217,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 4,435&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 6,188&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;War of 1812 (1812-1815)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members 286,730&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 2,260&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 4,505&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Indian Wars (approx. 1817-1898)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (VA estimate) 106,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths (VA estimate) 1,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Mexican War (1846-1848)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members 78,718&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 1,733&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater) 11,550&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 4,152&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Civil War (1861-1865)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Union) 2,213,363&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths (Union) 140,414&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater) (Union) 224,097&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings (Union) 281,881&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total Service members (Conf.)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(2)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;1,050,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths (Confederate)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(3)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;74,524&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater) (Confederate)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(3)&lt;/span&gt;,&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(4)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;59,297&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings (Confederate) Unknown&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Spanish-American War (1898-1902)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Worldwide) 306,760&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 385&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater) 2,061&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 1,662&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;World War I (1917-1918)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Worldwide) 4,734,991&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 53,402&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater) 63,114&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 204,002&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living Veterans 0&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;World War II (1941 –1945)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Worldwide) 16,112,566&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 291,557&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater) 113,842&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 670,846&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living Veterans (5) 1,711,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Korean War (1950-1953)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Worldwide) 5,720,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total Serving (In Theater) 1,789,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 33,739&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater) 2,835&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater) 17,672&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 103,284&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living Veterans 2,275,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Vietnam War (1964-1975)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Worldwide)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(6)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;8,744,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Deployed to Southeast Asia&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(7)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;3,403,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(8)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;47,434&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(8)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;10,786&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater)&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(8)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;32,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; bottom: 1ex; font-size: 10px; height: 0px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;(9)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;153,303&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living Veterans 5, 10 7,391,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Desert Shield/Desert Storm (1990-1991)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Total U.S. Service members (Worldwide) 2,322,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Deployed to Gulf 694,550&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 148&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater) 235&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater) 1,565&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 467&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living Veterans 5, 10 2,244,583&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;America’s Wars Total (1775 -1991)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
U.S. Military Service during Wartime 41,892,128&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Battle Deaths 651,031&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths (In Theater) 308,800&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Other Deaths in Service (Non-Theater) 230,279&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Non-mortal Woundings 1,431,290&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living War Veterans11 16,962,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
Living Veterans (Periods of War &amp;amp; Peace) 23,234,000&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Global War on Terror (Oct 2001 – )&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
The Global War on Terror (GWOT), including Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF), are ongoing conflicts. For the most current GWOT statistics visit the following Department of Defense Website:&lt;a href=&quot;http://siadapp.dmdc.osd.mil/personnel/CASUALTY/gwot_component.pdf&quot; rel=&quot;nofollow&quot; style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #990000; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;http://siadapp.dmdc.osd.mil/personnel/CASUALTY/gwot_component.pdf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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________________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;
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NOTES:&lt;/div&gt;
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1. Exact number is unknown. Posted figure is the median of estimated range from 184,000 – 250,000.&lt;/div&gt;
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2. Exact number is unknown. Posted figure is median of estimated range from 600,000 – 1,500,000.&lt;/div&gt;
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3. Death figures are based on incomplete returns.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
4. Does not include 26,000 to 31,000 who died in Union prisons.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
5. Estimate based upon new population projection methodology.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
6. Covers the period 8/5/64 – 1/27/73 (date of cease fire)&lt;/div&gt;
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7. Department of Defense estimate&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
8. Covers period 11/1/55 – 5/15/75&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
9. Excludes 150,341 not requiring hospital care&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
10. Defense Manpower Data Center (DMDC) estimate, as of 4/09, does not include those still on active duty and may include veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
11. Total will be more than sum of conflicts due to no “end date” established for Persian Gulf War.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Source:&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;Department of Defense (DOD), except living veterans, which are VA estimates as of Sep 2010.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
—————————-&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;
&lt;strong style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;&lt;em style=&quot;background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;&quot;&gt;Take time each day to thank a soldier or a veteran for the sacrifices that they have made!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/3479024641731042854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/05/memorial-day-time-to-remember.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/3479024641731042854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/3479024641731042854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/05/memorial-day-time-to-remember.html' title='Memorial Day: A Time to Remember'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6nVDP5fdgUw/U4PPMTvkcMI/AAAAAAAABCM/RURfYOngOg0/s72-c/My+Arlington.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-1388784078700887407</id><published>2014-04-18T18:41:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2014-04-18T18:41:53.635-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Endurance"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Faith"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Long-Suffering"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Obedience"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Perseverance"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thought Provoking"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Truth"/><title type='text'>P.U.S.H.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WnI7130Dizw/U1HUK2XARZI/AAAAAAAAA_0/f1rGFedWz2M/s1600/Rock.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WnI7130Dizw/U1HUK2XARZI/AAAAAAAAA_0/f1rGFedWz2M/s1600/Rock.jpg&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; width=&quot;213&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Al Cooper via CC Flickr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is an encouraging illustration for obedience, perseverance, faith and long-suffering. It will demonstrate to you the 
importance of maintaining your faith and patience with adversities that 
may come into your life.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
A man was sleeping at night in his cabin when suddenly his room 
filled with light, and God appeared. The Lord told the man he had work 
for him to do, and showed him a large rock in front of his cabin. The 
Lord explained that the man was to push against the rock with all his 
might.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
So, this the man did, day after day.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
For many years he toiled from sun up to sun down, his shoulders set 
squarely against the cold, massive surface of the unmoving rock, pushing
 with all of his might. Each night the man returned to his cabin sore 
and worn out, feeling that his whole day had been spent in vain.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Since the man was showing discouragement, the Adversary (Satan) 
decided to enter the picture by placing thoughts into the weary mind: 
“You have been pushing against that rock for a long time, and it hasn’t 
moved.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Thus, he gave the man the impression that the task was impossible and
 that he was a failure. These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the 
man.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Satan said, “Why kill yourself over this? Just put in your time, giving just the minimum effort; and that will be good enough.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
That’s what the weary man planned to do, but decided to make it a 
matter of prayer and to take his troubled thoughts to the Lord. “Lord,” 
he said, “I have labored long and hard in your service, putting all my 
strength to do that which you have asked. Yet, after all this time, I 
have not even budged that rock by half a millimeter. What is wrong? Why 
am I failing?”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The Lord responded compassionately, “My friend, when I asked you to 
serve Me and you accepted, I told you that your task was to push against
 the rock with all of your strength, which you have done. Never once did
 I mention to you that I expected you to move it. Your task was to push.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
And now you come to Me with your strength spent, thinking that you 
have failed. But, is that really so? Look at yourself. Your arms are 
strong and muscled, your back sinewy and brown; your hands are callused 
from constant pressure, your legs have become massive and hard. Through 
opposition you have grown much, and your abilities now surpass that 
which you used to have. True, you haven’t moved the rock. But your 
calling was to be obedient and to push and to exercise your faith and 
trust in My wisdom. That you have done. Now I, my friend, will move the 
rock.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
At times, when we hear a word from God, we tend to use our own 
intellect to decipher what He wants, when actually what God wants is 
just a simple obedience and faith in Him. By all means, exercise the 
faith that moves mountains, but know that it is still God who moves 
mountains.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When everything seems to go wrong . just P.U.S.H.!
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the job gets you down … just P.U.S.H.!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When people don’t react the way you think they should … just P.U.S.H!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When your money is “gone” and the bills are due…just P.U.S.H!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When people just don’t understand you, just P.U.S.H.&lt;br /&gt;

P= Pray&lt;br /&gt;
U= Until&lt;br /&gt;
S= Something&lt;br /&gt;
H= Happens&lt;br /&gt;

——————&lt;br /&gt;

Source: gatewaytojesus.com</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/1388784078700887407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/04/push.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/1388784078700887407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/1388784078700887407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/04/push.html' title='P.U.S.H.'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WnI7130Dizw/U1HUK2XARZI/AAAAAAAAA_0/f1rGFedWz2M/s72-c/Rock.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-4312715512105916229</id><published>2014-04-18T18:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2014-04-18T18:36:38.823-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Easter"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Easter Bunny"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="funny"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humorous"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="words of wisdom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Words of Wisdom From the Easter Bunny"/><title type='text'>What I learned from the Easter Bunny…</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3OCorwWywOM/U1HS_PZEMcI/AAAAAAAAA_o/bSydQeXT0Tc/s1600/Ethan+Hickerson.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3OCorwWywOM/U1HS_PZEMcI/AAAAAAAAA_o/bSydQeXT0Tc/s1600/Ethan+Hickerson.jpg&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Ethan Hickerson via CC Flickr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Throughout my life, I have been blessed to listen to many
 inspiring, motivational, and heartwarming speakers. I have met a lot of
 famous people and rubbed elbows with the “rich and famous.” But of all 
the people that I have ever met and listened to, none of them were more 
inspirational&amp;nbsp; than one of the most well known entities of 
all-time…that’s right…the Easter Bunny,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It is my hope that these great words of wisdom will touch your heart as much as they do mine &lt;span class=&quot;wp-smiley emoji emoji-smile&quot; title=&quot;:)&quot;&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

——————-&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I learned from the Easter Bunny……&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Everyone needs a friend who is all ears.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
There’s no such thing as too much candy.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
All work and no play can make you a basket case.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
A cute tail attracts a lot of attention.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Everyone is entitled to a bad hare day.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Some body parts should be floppy.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Keep your paws off of other people’s jelly beans.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Good things come in small, sugar coated packages.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The grass is always greener in someone else’s basket.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
To show your true colors, you have to come out of the shell.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The best things in life are still sweet and gooey.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
May the joy of the season fill your heart.&lt;br /&gt;
———–&lt;br /&gt;
Remember: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“A true friend is someone who thinks you are a good egg &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;even though they know you are slightly cracked.” &lt;span class=&quot;wp-smiley emoji emoji-smile&quot; title=&quot;:)&quot;&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-34aATh3Nfqg/UziGAkB2tYI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/K9RHF5OZGsY/s1600/Temp.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-34aATh3Nfqg/UziGAkB2tYI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/K9RHF5OZGsY/s1600/Temp.jpg&quot; height=&quot;200&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt; Photo Credits: (All via Flickr):&lt;br /&gt;Coffee: Nate Steiner&lt;br /&gt;Carrots: John Morgan&lt;br /&gt;Eggs: Alisha Vargas&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Adversity in our lives affects everyone in different 
ways. While some people may act a certain way in a situation, another 
individual may react to the same situation. Through these times of 
trials and hardships, people can either grown and become stronger or 
they can become depressed and fall into a pit of despair. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The short story in today’s blog gives us a great 
illustration of the kinds of people that not only deal with life’s 
difficulties and hardships, but also, of what they can become.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
A certain daughter complained to her father about her life and how 
things have been so hard for her. She did not how she was going to make 
it and she wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. 
It seemed that just as one problem was solved another arose.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen, filled three pots with 
water and placed the fire on high. Soon the three pots came to a boil. 
In one he placed carrots, in the other he placed eggs, and the last he 
placed ground coffee beans. He let them sit and boil, without saying a 
word. The daughter sucked her teeth and impatiently wondered what he was
 trying to do. She had problems, and he was making this strange 
concoction.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
A half hour later he walked over to the oven and turned down the 
fire. He pulled the carrots out and placed them in the bowl. He pulled 
the eggs out and placed them in the bowl. Then he ladled the coffee out 
and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her he asked. “Darling what do you 
see?”&lt;br /&gt;

Smartly, she replied. “Carrots, eggs, and coffee.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
He brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and 
noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break 
it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. 
Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Her face frowned from the 
strength of the coffee. Humbly, she asked. “What does it mean Father?”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
He explained. Each of them faced the same adversity, 212 degrees of 
boiling water. However each reacted differently. The carrot went in 
strong, hard, and unrelenting. But after going through boiling water, it
 softened and became weak. The egg was fragile. A thin outer shell 
protected a liquid center. But after sitting through the boiling water, 
its inside became hardened. The coffee beans are unique however. After 
they were in the boiling water, it became stronger and richer.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“Which are you?” he asked his daughter.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Are you the carrot that seems hard, but with the smallest amount of 
pain, adversity or heat, you wilt and become soft with no strength.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Are you the egg, which starts off with a malleable heart? A fluid spirit.&lt;br /&gt;
But after a , a breakup, a divorce, a layoff you became hardened and 
stiff. Your shell looks the same, but you are so bitter and tough with a
 stiff spirit and heart, internally.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Or are you like the coffee bean? The bean does not get its peak 
flavor and robust until it reaches 212 degrees Fahrenheit. When the 
water gets the hottest, it just tastes better.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When things are at their worst, you get better. . . When people talk 
the most, your praises increase. . . When the hour is the darkest, 
trials are there greatest, your worship elevates to another level.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/5654873551020117567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-story-of-carrots-eggs-and-coffee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5654873551020117567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5654873551020117567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-story-of-carrots-eggs-and-coffee.html' title='The Story of the Carrots, Eggs, and Coffee'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-34aATh3Nfqg/UziGAkB2tYI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/K9RHF5OZGsY/s72-c/Temp.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-9207124476487092958</id><published>2013-12-13T19:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-12-13T19:25:22.881-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas Gifts"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas Story"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas Tree"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="compassion"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gifts"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="helping others"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Man Who Hated Christmas"/><title type='text'>A Christmas Story: The Man Who Hated Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2VmQB7xupno/UqvPYm7YlGI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/kJVv2JEV8Ms/s1600/Angry+Man.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2VmQB7xupno/UqvPYm7YlGI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/kJVv2JEV8Ms/s320/Angry+Man.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Pitsk via Flickr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The short, inspirational Christmas story below was 
originally published in the December 14, 1982 issue of Woman’s Day 
magazine. This moving story inspired the creation of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.whiteenvelopeproject.org/&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;The White Envelope Project&lt;/a&gt;,
 a caring nonprofit organization dedicated to developing the next 
generation of givers, civic leaders, and philanthropists. May this 
inspirational story remind us all of the true meaning of Christmas and 
giving during the holidays and throughout the year. The story was 
written by &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;Nancy W. Gavin&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
———————————&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our 
Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has 
peeked through the branches of our tree for the past ten years.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas. Oh, not the 
true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it – 
overspending and the frantic running around at the last minute to get a 
tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma – the gifts given
 in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual 
shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special 
just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was on the wrestling team at the
 school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league 
match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These 
youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be 
the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our 
boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling 
shoes.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was 
wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a
 wrestler’s ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not 
afford.&lt;br /&gt;

Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. Mike, 
seated beside me, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could 
have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this 
could take the heart right out of them.” Mike loved kids – all kids. He 
so enjoyed coaching little league football, baseball and lacrosse. 
That’s when the idea for his present came.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an 
assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes, and sent them anonymously to
 the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed a small, white 
envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done, and 
that this was his gift from me.&lt;br /&gt;

Mike’s smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year. And 
that same bright smile lit up succeeding years. For each Christmas, I 
followed the tradition – one year sending a group of mentally 
handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair 
of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before 
Christmas, and on and on.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The white envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was 
always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children – 
ignoring their new toys – would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as 
their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As 
the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the
 small, white envelope never lost its allure.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The story doesn’t end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to 
dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in 
grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing 
an envelope on the tree. And the next morning, I found it was magically 
joined by three more. Unbeknownst to the others, each of our three 
children had for the first time placed a white envelope on the tree for 
their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further 
with our grandchildren standing to take down that special envelope.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit will always be with us.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/9207124476487092958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-christmas-story-man-who-hated.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/9207124476487092958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/9207124476487092958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-christmas-story-man-who-hated.html' title='A Christmas Story: The Man Who Hated Christmas'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2VmQB7xupno/UqvPYm7YlGI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/kJVv2JEV8Ms/s72-c/Angry+Man.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-4617408534180162407</id><published>2013-12-04T18:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-12-04T18:48:54.285-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Atheist"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Evolution"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Faith"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Good and Evil"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Satan"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Universe"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="world"/><title type='text'>The Great Debate: No God or Know God?</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrP-GPw5cZI/Up_odiOVEtI/AAAAAAAAA9I/ZwwjmcgP7k0/s1600/class.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrP-GPw5cZI/Up_odiOVEtI/AAAAAAAAA9I/ZwwjmcgP7k0/s320/class.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a class=&quot;new&quot; href=&quot;http://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=User:Alroyfonseca&amp;amp;action=edit&amp;amp;redlink=1&quot; title=&quot;User:Alroyfonseca (page does not exist)&quot;&gt;Alroyfonseca&lt;/a&gt; via Wikimedia&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
There has been a question that millions of people have asked down 
through the ages…is there a God? Or is there no God? Was the earth, 
living creatures, the planets, stars and universe created by God or did 
everything just evolve and come into existence by chance? I just read an
 interesting story on “&lt;a href=&quot;http://bestrealstories.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;Best Real Stories&lt;/a&gt;”
 that will give you “food for thought” regarding this great debate. &amp;nbsp;I 
am not going to sit here and preach to you…after reading this story, you
 can decide.&lt;br /&gt;
———————-&lt;br /&gt;
An atheist professor of philosophy was speaking to his class on the problem Science has with God, The Almighty.&lt;br /&gt;
He asked one of his new students to stand and the following conversation began…..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: So you believe in God?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Absolutely, sir.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Is God good?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Sure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Is God all-powerful?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: My brother died of cancer even though he prayed to God to 
heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But God 
didn’t. How is this God good then? Hmm?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Student is silent.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: You can’t answer, can you? Let’s start again, young fellow. Is God good?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Is Satan good ?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: No.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Where does Satan come from?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: From…God&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: That’s right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Evil is everywhere, isn’t it? And God did make everything. Correct?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: So who created evil?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Student does not answer. )&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Is there sickness? Immorality? &amp;nbsp;Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don’t they?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Yes, sir.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: So, who created them?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
( Student has no answer.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Science says you have 5 senses you use to identify and 
observe the world around you. Tell me, son…Have you ever seen God?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: No, sir.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Tell us if you have ever heard your God?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: No, sir.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God, smelt your 
God? Have you ever had any sensory perception of God for that matter?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: No, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Yet you still believe in Him ?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: According to empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, 
science says your GOD doesn’t exist. What do you say to that, son?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Nothing. I only have my faith.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Yes. Faith. And that is the problem science has.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Professor, is there such a thing as heat?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: And is there such a thing as cold?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: No sir. There isn’t.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(The lecture theater becomes very quiet with this turn of events .)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, 
mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat. But we don’t have 
anything called cold. We can hit 458 degrees below zero which is no 
heat,&lt;br /&gt;
but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold. 
Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot 
measure cold. Heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, 
just the absence of it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(There is pin-drop silence in the lecture theater.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Yes. What is night if there isn’t darkness?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of 
something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing 
light…but if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and it is 
called darkness, isn’t it? In reality, darkness isn’t. If it were, you 
would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: So what is the point you are making, young man?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Sir, my point is your philosophical premise is flawed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: Flawed? Can you explain how?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Sir, you are working on the premise of duality. You argue 
there is life and then there is death, a good God and a bad God. You are
 viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can 
measure. Sir, science can’t even explain a thought. It uses electricity 
and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either 
one.&lt;br /&gt;
To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact 
that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the 
opposite of life: just the absence of it. Now tell me, Professor. Do you
 teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, yes, of course, I do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(The Professor shakes his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument is going.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at 
work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, 
are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a scientist but a 
preacher?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(The class is in uproar.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor’s brain?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(The class breaks out into laughter.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor’s 
brain, felt it, touched or smelt it? No one appears to have done so. So,
 according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable 
protocol, science says that you have no brain, sir. With all due 
respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures, sir?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(The room is silent. The professor stares at the student, his face unfathomable. )&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Professor: I guess you’ll have to take them on faith, son.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Student: That is it sir… The link between man and God is FAITH. That is all that keeps things moving &amp;amp; alive…&lt;br /&gt;
——————–&lt;br /&gt;
Food for thought!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/4617408534180162407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-great-debate-no-god-or-know-god.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/4617408534180162407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/4617408534180162407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-great-debate-no-god-or-know-god.html' title='The Great Debate: No God or Know God?'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrP-GPw5cZI/Up_odiOVEtI/AAAAAAAAA9I/ZwwjmcgP7k0/s72-c/class.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-7246030547287253937</id><published>2013-11-28T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-28T09:23:04.066-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="giving thanks"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thanks"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thanksgiving"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Things To Be Thankful For"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Unconditional Friendship"/><title type='text'>Words of Thanksgiving from My WordPress and Personal Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dIEmboU29qk/Upd7nTeDQrI/AAAAAAAAA84/K_iabHkmcFE/s1600/thankfulness.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;316&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dIEmboU29qk/Upd7nTeDQrI/AAAAAAAAA84/K_iabHkmcFE/s320/thankfulness.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: tengirl via Flickr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Thanksgiving season is here and there is much to be 
thankful for. I decided to do something different this year. I put out a
 question to my Word Press and personal friends of mine, and asked them 
to share with us something that they are thankful for in either a few 
words or a sentence or two. The following quotes are from the dear 
people that decided to share their thoughts with everyone. It is my hope
 and prayer that some of these quotes (whether it be one, some or all of
 them) will be an encouragement to your heart.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

I am so thankful for my two handsome sons, a beautiful wife, and the wonderful life that the good Lord has blessed with. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Me, Coach Muller&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

One thing? I have at least two. I’m thankful for a support and 
everything my parents did for me and doing..and for patience of my 
husband….as I’m not a sweetie all the time J&amp;nbsp; ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Anastasiias&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog:&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for his guiding me out of a depression and placing many
 new friends on my life’s path, as well as old friends, to help him with
 that. I call them my earth angels. I am also thankful that He protects 
my family from serious injuries or worse. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Elaine&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://eserra65.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;Elaine&#39;s Random Thoughts&quot;&gt;Elaine’s Random Thoughts&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for all of the sacrifices that my mom and dad made to 
make my life easier (paid for my BA/MA–and gave me the tools to pay for 
my next degree). I am thankful for all of the furrbabies I have known 
that have given comfort to my soul: Samantha my childhood horse (we had 
her for 30 years), Gypsy, Fred, Lady, Aubrey, Charlie, Dulce, Hannah, 
and even crazy Chloe–who was not long for our world. And all of the 
rescues in between. They have all touched me in powerful ways and made 
me a better person. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sandra&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://promisetodad.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;A Promise to Dad&quot;&gt;A Promise to Dad&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for being born into this life, with all its craziness and challenges! ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Julianne Victoria&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://juliannevictoria.com/&quot; title=&quot;Through the Peacock&#39;s Eyes&quot;&gt;Through the Peacock’s Eyes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for the life I have been given, the values my parents 
taught me, the random acts of kindness that happen when we least expect 
them, and most particularly for my wife of 51 years that showed me how 
smart I was by letting me marry her. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oldmainer&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://oldmainer.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;oldmainer&quot;&gt;Oldmainer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for my blog: sounds weird perhaps, but it has opened up a whole new world to me. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Uncle Spike&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://unclespikes.wordpress.com/&quot;&gt;Uncle Spike’s Adventures&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for Skip, my husband… hero… best friend, and for our 3 
Pups. They are all I have left in this big, old world as my son, Tommy… 
died 3 years ago. Thank-you for letting me ‘tell the world’ how thankful
 I am. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Gloria aka Granny Gee&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://gravatar.com/grannyscolorful&quot;&gt;Grannyscolorful&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————-&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for life ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Kiwiskan&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://kiwis-soar.com/&quot; title=&quot;kiwissoar&quot;&gt;Kiwissoar&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful to all the women who suffered through breast cancer 
before me, which helped create a seamless treatment programs – without 
them, the system would not work the way it does today! For the 
“headaches” I didn’t have to live through, I am thankful for them. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Tkmorin&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://tkmorin.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;Bite Size Canada&quot;&gt;Bite Size Canada&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I have been blessed, although I have recently lost my job, I am 
thankful for all my friends, family, badminton Girls… I am thankful that
 I still have a place to live in and food to eat, clean clothes to wear…
 There are so many things I am grateful for I could go on and on and on.
 ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Claudette&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog:&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am both thankful and grateful that we can walk by faith trusting 
Romans 8-28, And we know that all things work together for good to them 
that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose and 
that God loves us in spite of our things and stuff. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ann “afriend4ever54” Friend &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://afriendofjesus2013.com/&quot; title=&quot;afriendofJESUS2013Blog&quot;&gt;AfriendofJESUS2013Blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for the relationship I have with The Lord and for His 
love for me. Those two things help me to be thankful for everything 
else. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Skye &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://thesanctuaryofmyheart.com/&quot; title=&quot;The Sanctuary of My Heart&quot;&gt;The Sanctuary of My Heart&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

There are many things that I am thankful for, but there’s only one 
thing that I can’t live without – God’s unconditional love, grace and 
forgiveness. In this messed up world, what a comfort it is to know that 
there is one we can all trust as our Father, Savior, and of course – as a
 friend. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Teri4sure&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://achangenme.com/&quot; title=&quot;A Change-N-Me&quot;&gt;A Change-N-Me&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I thank Jesus Christ, the Shepherd of my soul. “I once was lost but now am found. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Especially Me &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;~ Blog: &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://especiallymade.wordpress.com/&quot;&gt;Especially Me&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

The Peace in my heart and health ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ted E.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

Jesus! Eternal life and family &amp;amp; dear friends. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Cathy T.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

For today. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Elizabeth C.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am grateful for the purring of my cat. The best sound ever. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Franhunne4u&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://inhannover.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;inhannover&quot;&gt;Inhannover&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

the ever-present “ability” we have to (no matter our age) to go back 
to school, learn new skills, and make a positive change not only for 
ourselves, but for others…God is GOOD! ~ &lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Karen R&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/i&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

My salvation &amp;amp; that the Lord saves all my tears. He understands my heartache. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jana J&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I’m thankful that this is only my “temporary home”. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nancy T.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for my husband, kids, friends, and especially old schools friends who always make me laugh! ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Cynthia M.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Personal Friend&lt;br /&gt;

—————&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful that my son and I have reconnected after almost 10 
years of troubled times. This second chance for both of us is a precious
 gift. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jenna Dee&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;~ Blog: &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;Jenna Dee &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful for my husband and children and grandchildren – couldn’t ask for more. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Cate B. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://wingedprisms.com/&quot; title=&quot;Let&#39;s Have Another Piece of Pie&quot;&gt;Let’s Have Another Piece of Pie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

I am thankful that God never changes. He stays the same and is there 
each day we breath, read, think, and enjoy. Even when we breathe our 
last breath on earth, He is with us and accepts us to be with Him 
forevermore. ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mark S.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://thisdaywithgod.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;This Day With God&quot;&gt;This Day With God&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

Love ~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Earthbeone&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;~ Blog: &lt;a href=&quot;http://thebookofeverydaylife.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;the book of everyday life…&quot;&gt;The Book of Everyday Life…&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————–&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Have a WONDERFUL Thanksgiving my friends!! If you have 
anything that you are thankful for and want to share it here, please 
feel free to do so! &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/7246030547287253937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/words-of-thanksgiving-from-my-wordpress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/7246030547287253937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/7246030547287253937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/words-of-thanksgiving-from-my-wordpress.html' title='Words of Thanksgiving from My WordPress and Personal Friends'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dIEmboU29qk/Upd7nTeDQrI/AAAAAAAAA84/K_iabHkmcFE/s72-c/thankfulness.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-7876490176857483143</id><published>2013-11-28T09:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-28T09:19:08.799-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Beggar"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="compassion"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Homeless"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="homeless person"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Story oi Thanksgiving"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thankfulness"/><title type='text'>A Heartwarming Thanksgiving Story</title><content type='html'> &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TFVpc5F9FJA/Upd6yYXnYWI/AAAAAAAAA8s/KIDzzXtIaCE/s1600/beggar2.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TFVpc5F9FJA/Upd6yYXnYWI/AAAAAAAAA8s/KIDzzXtIaCE/s320/beggar2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet.&amp;nbsp; He held up a sign which said: “I am blind, please help.” There were only a few coins in the hat.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped
 them into the hat.&amp;nbsp; He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote 
some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would 
see the new words.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to
 the blind boy.&amp;nbsp; That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to
 see how things were.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, “Were you the one who changed my sign this morning?&amp;nbsp; What did you write?”
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The man said, “I only wrote the truth.&amp;nbsp; I said what you said but in a
 different way.”&amp;nbsp;I wrote: “Today is a beautiful day but I cannot see 
it.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Both signs told people that the boy was blind. But the first sign 
simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people that they 
were so lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the 
second sign was more effective?&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be 
innovative. Think differently and positively.&amp;nbsp;When life gives you a 100 
reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your
 past without regret.&amp;nbsp;Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for 
the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling.&amp;nbsp;And even more beautiful, is knowing that you are the reason behind it!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Happy Thanksgiving to all!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/7876490176857483143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/a-heartwarming-thanksgiving-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/7876490176857483143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/7876490176857483143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/a-heartwarming-thanksgiving-story.html' title='A Heartwarming Thanksgiving Story'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TFVpc5F9FJA/Upd6yYXnYWI/AAAAAAAAA8s/KIDzzXtIaCE/s72-c/beggar2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-5322467877077327649</id><published>2013-11-25T09:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-26T18:12:43.656-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Dealing with Regret"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dying"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Happiness"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quality of Life"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="regrets"/><title type='text'>Regrets of the Dying</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hG516aatz80/UpOLIwSX6LI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/C5Av5AJlZSI/s1600/hospital.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hG516aatz80/UpOLIwSX6LI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/C5Av5AJlZSI/s320/hospital.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: pedrojperez via morguefile.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;My father passed away two weeks before Christmas last year and 
my mother passed away a week before Christmas 11 years ago. There is not
 a day that goes by that I don’t think of them and remember the good 
times that we used to share. The smiles, hugs, kisses, laughs and other 
special times that we would have together are gone, but my memories of 
them will always be with me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;A few days ago, I came across the following article that really
 made me think about people and what they are thinking when they are in 
their last days. Generally speaking, both of my parents told me that 
they had no real, big regrets about their life. But sad to say, there 
are many people who have MANY regrets when their life is coming to a 
close.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;It is my hope that the following story which I read on &lt;a href=&quot;http://inspirationandchai.com/Regrets-of-the-Dying.html&quot;&gt;inspirationandchai.com&lt;/a&gt;, will touch your heart the same way it touched mine.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;—————————-&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those 
who had gone home to die. Some incredibly special times were shared. I 
was with them for the last three to twelve weeks of their lives.&lt;br /&gt;
People grow a lot when they are faced with their own mortality. I 
learnt never to underestimate someone’s capacity for growth. Some 
changes were phenomenal. Each experienced a variety of emotions, as 
expected, denial, fear, anger, remorse, more denial and eventually 
acceptance. Every single patient found their peace before they departed 
though, every one of them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do 
differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most 
common five:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1. &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that 
their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see
 how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honored even
 a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to 
choices they had made, or not made.&lt;br /&gt;
It is very important to try and honor at least some of your dreams 
along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too 
late. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until they no longer 
have it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2. &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;I wish I didn’t work so hard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their 
children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of 
this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the 
female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed 
deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a 
work existence.&lt;br /&gt;
By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the 
way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by
 creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to 
new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
3. &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with 
others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never 
became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses
 relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.&lt;br /&gt;
We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people 
may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking 
honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and 
healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship 
from your life. Either way, you win.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
4. &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends 
until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them 
down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let 
golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets 
about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. 
Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.&lt;br /&gt;
It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. 
But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details
 of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in 
order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true 
importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the 
benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary 
to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships
 in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and 
relationships.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
5. &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;I wish that I had let myself be happier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realize until the end
 that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and 
habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their 
emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them 
pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When 
deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their 
life again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way
 from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, 
long before you are dying.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.&lt;br /&gt;
—————————–&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Based on this article, Bronnie has now released a full length book titled &lt;b&gt;The Top Five Regrets of the Dying – A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing&lt;/b&gt;.
 It is a memoir of her own life and how it was transformed through the 
regrets of the dying people she cared for. This inspiring book is 
available internationally through Hay House.&lt;/i&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/5322467877077327649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/photo-credit-pedrojperez-via-morguefile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5322467877077327649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5322467877077327649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/photo-credit-pedrojperez-via-morguefile.html' title='Regrets of the Dying'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hG516aatz80/UpOLIwSX6LI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/C5Av5AJlZSI/s72-c/hospital.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-2390660508366227112</id><published>2013-11-11T16:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-11T16:45:21.798-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Family of a Veteran"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Prayer"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Veteran"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Veteran&#39;s Family"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Veterans Day"/><title type='text'> Praying for Pappy: Remembering Our Veterans</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aThVV2nXo14/UoF59pDo5tI/AAAAAAAAA8E/sQXb8Esw3MU/s1600/sad-child-portrait.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;211&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aThVV2nXo14/UoF59pDo5tI/AAAAAAAAA8E/sQXb8Esw3MU/s320/sad-child-portrait.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: George Hodan via publicdomainpictures.net&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;This is a story that took place in the south and involved a 
little boy and his mom. It shows us the sad side of war and reactions 
that a family endured at the loss of their loved one. Get a box of 
tissues ready as you read this story of a little boys love of rhis mom 
and dad. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Tommy’s Maw Maw and Pappy used to take Tommy to church every Sunday before his Pappy left to go to war. Tommy had learned early in life all about God and how to pray. Every 
night Tommy would kneel by his bed and pray before going to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today is the day the soldiers are to come home. Tommy and his Maw Maw 
dressed and went and stood at the dock waiting for his Pappy to arrive. 
They would wait and wait… Until the last boat left the dock but Tommy’s 
Pappy would not be arriving this day.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When they got home Tommy was too tired to care about eating. He 
kissed his grand mother goodnight and went straight to his room. He 
changed into his pajamas and knelt by his bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Lord,&lt;br /&gt;
It’s Tommy.&lt;br /&gt;
We stood at the dock all day. Every one walked away and we just stood 
there. Pappy must have missed the boat so we waited for the next one 
then the next one until all the boats were gone and the tall man in the 
uniform said all the soldiers had gotten off but he is wrong ’cause 
Lord, Pappy didn’t get off none of those boats. I hate it when maw maw 
cries Lord. Please send Pappy home so she will stop crying.&lt;br /&gt;
Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

All week long Tommy listened as his Maw Maw cried. He heard her on 
the phone several times asking about why his Pappy didn’t come home like
 the rest of the soldiers. On the seventh night he knelt by his bed and 
prayed.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

Lord ,&lt;br /&gt;
It’s Tommy .&lt;br /&gt;
It has been a long week. Maw Maw just sits and stares out the window 
when she ain’t cooking and cleaning or on the phone asking where Pappy 
is and why they didn’t send him home.. She hasn’t hardly spoke in days 
other than when she is on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Mrs. Nelly Baker from down the road came by to see if Pappy had come 
home yet but he hasn’t and Maw Maw began to cry again as Mrs. Nelly 
Baker talked to her. I heard her say You might have Pappy with you Lord.
 If you do , could you please tell him it is time to come home ’cause 
Maw Maw and me miss him and Maw Maw cries at night and calls for him. 
I’d sure ‘preciate it if you would.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

Slowly the days passed by, then weeks. Every day was more of the 
same. Tommy was worried about his Pappy and his Maw Maw. It had been a 
little over a month now and Pappy still hadn’t come home. He walked in 
the living room and there his Maw Maw sat staring out the window until a
 knock came upon the door. A man in a uniform stood at the door. He 
backed up and Maw Maw walked outside. His Grand Mother screamed falling 
to the ground. Then the women in the neighborhood came running.&lt;br /&gt;
Tommy was confused. Why was his Maw Maw screaming and crying Pappy was 
coming home finally. He felt heavy hearted, So he went and knelt by his 
bed and prayed.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

Lord,&lt;br /&gt;
It’s Tommy.&lt;br /&gt;
It’s been a month and three days since Maw Maw and I went to meet Pappy 
at the dock. Some man in a uniform just showed up at Maw Maw’s door and 
made her scream. He ‘pologized for making her scream and cry before he 
left. Mrs. Nelly Baker and some other women came running . I guess they 
heard Maw Maw screaming before she fell to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;
I don’t understand Lord. Why is she so upset ? The man said Pappy would 
be coming home tomorrow with something in a pine box. Don’t know why he 
needs a box. I guess he lost his suitcase. I thank Lord for sending 
Pappy home.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

Tommy didn’t know his Maw Maw stood silently by the door. She listened as the little boy of ten prayed through sobs.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

Lord,&lt;br /&gt;
It’s Tommy .&lt;br /&gt;
I un’ stand now. My Pappy came home today. I know all about the pine box
 now. I guess I forgot to ask for you to send him back to Maw Maw alive.
 I hope she will forgive me. I thought You knew what I meant when I 
asked you to bring my Pappy home. But you did do what I asked. I made a 
mess of things. Now my Maw Maw will never be happy again. Lord, the next
 time I ask for something make sure I ask the right way please and tell 
Pappy I am sorry I got him dead I didn’t mean to. It’s all my fault Maw 
Maw is sad. I am so sorry.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

Tommy opened his tear stained eyes to see his Maw Maw standing in his
 doorway , tears streaming down her face. ” Dear child, it is not your 
fault.” She said through sobs and held her arms out to him. ” If it had 
not been for your prayers, your Pappy may never had come home at all.”&lt;br /&gt;

———————–&lt;br /&gt;

Source: friendburst.com</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/2390660508366227112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/praying-for-pappy-remembering-our.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2390660508366227112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2390660508366227112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/praying-for-pappy-remembering-our.html' title=' Praying for Pappy: Remembering Our Veterans'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aThVV2nXo14/UoF59pDo5tI/AAAAAAAAA8E/sQXb8Esw3MU/s72-c/sad-child-portrait.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-2287767055560647739</id><published>2013-11-11T16:41:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-11T16:41:40.170-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Courage"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Purple Heart"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sacrifice"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Story of Veterans"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Veterans"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Veterans Day"/><title type='text'>Veterans Day: Soldiers Reflections</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sTCDXdu39GE/UoF5IxfAc5I/AAAAAAAAA78/iadOZ5-bwQw/s1600/american-flag.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;214&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sTCDXdu39GE/UoF5IxfAc5I/AAAAAAAAA78/iadOZ5-bwQw/s320/american-flag.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: kconnors via morguefile.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;The following is a collection of stories, accumulated and written by &lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;Judith Blakely&lt;/span&gt;
 a Yahoo Contributor. It gives us glimpse of the sacrifice and courage 
that our soldiers gave our nation. Let’s take time today to thank the 
Veterans that we know for fighting to give us the freedom that we all 
deserve.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Veterans Day is here. Our hearts go out to the families of our soldiers serving at
 war. Our thoughts are drawn to the sacrifices of our young men and 
women overseas. Our memories flash to the past, of the stories of our 
fathers and grandfathers&lt;br /&gt;

Within these next stories, our grandfathers tell of a time of action, adrenaline, death, grief, triumph, pride, humor, and duty.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;“Are you sure this is my son?”&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

Samuel Boynton began his tour in Korea by making the Inchon Landing 
on September 18, 1950 as part of the F Company 32nd Infantry Regiment 
7th Division (better known as the Hourglass). He was immediately 
involved in the fighting. Boynton recalls: “After making the Inchon 
Landing, we made an attack on South Mountain. The North Koreans hit us 
resulting in twelve dead and twelve wounded. We crossed the 18th 
Parallel about seven times back and forth. The 7th Division was the most
 traveled division of the Korean War from 1950-1951.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Upon returning from Korea in November 1951, Boynton was assigned to 
Escort Detachment at Brooklyn Army Base, Brooklyn, New York. He escorted
 remains of K.I.A. (Killed In Action), east of the Mississippi. Prior to
 his first assignment, Boynton attended a two week class on what his 
duties would become. His job was to meet the N.O.K (Next Of Kin) and the
 Funeral Director; fold the flag; and arrange for the firing squads with
 Military and American Legion Guards.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“Everyday I had to read the bulletin board at least two or three 
times. The names would be posted that many times a day.” On the day of 
Escort, Boynton would wear his Class “A” uniform with a black armband. 
“I would go down the stairs to the shipping dock, check the name of the 
soldier, rank and service number,” says Boynton. The remains would be 
placed in a Military Ambulance and taken to Grand Central Station to be 
escorted home. “That’s when the hard part began,” recalls Boynton.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“I remember the first time I escorted a soldier home. It was my 
hometown of Fall River, Mass.” Upon reaching the soldiers town, Boynton 
would first meet with the Funeral Director and deliver a copy of the 
orders. Then, together, they would meet with the N.O.K., “The mother and
 father, sometimes it was only the mother,” says Boynton. “It didn’t 
matter where it was: Kentucky, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, 
Indiana, Illinois, Michigan or Ohio. It never got any easier. The look 
and those words will always be with me,&lt;br /&gt;
“Are you sure this is my son?”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“I considered it an honor and privilege to escort these War Heroes into the loving hands of their parents.”&lt;br /&gt;

Years later, Sam Boynton found himself serving in a similar capacity 
during Vietnam. On September 18, 1965, he was sent to Vietnam and 
assigned to the First Air Calvary Division located in the “Tea 
Plantation.” Boynton recalls, “Our medical tent and grave registration 
was set up. When the choppers came in, we unloaded the wounded, then the
 K.I.A. Sometimes we had to go on a search and recover mission, looking 
for missing G.I.’s. With four on a team, our helicopters would fly into 
the jungle. Most of these missions brought more remains into the grave 
registration.” All remains were processed through Saigon, where 
identification through medical records could be made. Then they would be
 shipped home to their families, where someone else would answer the 
question, “Are you sure this is my son?”&lt;br /&gt;

Sam Boynton left Vietnam after four tours in March 1969 and retired from active duty a month later.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Thomas Huntsberry, Teenage Warrior&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Thomas was born in &lt;a href=&quot;http://voices.yahoo.com/theme/1530/baltimore.html&quot; title=&quot;Baltimore&quot;&gt;Baltimore&lt;/a&gt;
 County, Maryland, on March 13, 1932. He was the youngest of thirteen 
children. His family held a history of military service, and he was not 
going to miss his opportunity to follow in his brothers’ footsteps.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“Three of my brothers served during World War II, one in the Army, 
one in the Marines, and one in the Navy,” says Huntsberry. He attempted 
to enlist at the tender age of fourteen, but was fifteen before he 
succeeded.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Thomas says that he had to convince his parents to go with him to a 
notary public to sign an affidavit stating that he was 17 years old. “In
 1948, the Army was taking anybody that was breathing, so with the 
affidavit, I didn’t have any problem enlisting,” tells Huntsberry.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Sworn into the Army on January 1, 1948, Thomas was sent to Fort 
Jackson, South Carolina, for basic training. He was assigned to Company 
H, 3rd battalion, 11th Infantry Division. “I applied for paratroop 
training during basic. The sergeant looked at me and said, ‘No way are 
yougoing to be a paratrooper. You are under-age, and I know it, and you 
know it!’ Then he asked, ‘Do you want to stay in the service?’ I 
replied, ‘I certainly do!’” Huntsberry fondly remembers.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
After basic, he was sent to the Panama Canal Zone, where he remembers
 that Panama was undergoing unrest due to an election. He says that 
during guard duty, his friend was nearly shot. “It was a dark night, and
 the light was out in the guard shack. My friend lit a cigarette, then 
sat down immediately. Just as he sat down, a 30 caliber round struck the
 door frame where he had been standing. We were so scared that we never 
bothered to shoot back. It was a good thing the &lt;a href=&quot;http://voices.yahoo.com/theme/1626/lights.html&quot; title=&quot;lights&quot;&gt;lights&lt;/a&gt; were out because they would have shot us for sure,” relays Huntsberry.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
After returning home for emergency leave, Thomas was stationed at 
Fort Campbell, Kentucky until he was discharged on January 1, 1950.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“I returned to Baltimore and joined the 445th Combat Engineer 
Battalion, U.S. Army Reserves. In October 1951, we were activated into 
the Army. Two other reserves and I were sent to Fort Lewis, Washington, 
as guards for a plane load of fourty-four prisoners who were being sent 
to Korea. These men had been in the stockade for desertion and for being
 chronically AWOL. Our orders were to deliver them to front-line units 
in Korea.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
In 1953, Huntsberry was preparing for an invasion of North Korea, when he learned that an armistice had been signed.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Shortly thereafter, he returned to the States with an honorable 
discharge. Not wishing to let go of the family feel of the Army, he 
became an integral part of his local Honor Guard.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Wild Boar Hunting&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Towards the end of WWII, Vincent Chinchello, Jr. found himself at 
Fort Shafter, Territory of Hawaii, as part of the 972nd Signal Service 
Batallion in the U.S. Army Signal Corp. Underground, the Signal Corp was
 responsible for maintaining all the Army communications on the island, 
maintaining all the Army signal equipment throughout the Pacfic Theatre
 of Operations, and served as the main link between the Pacific and the 
Mainland. As there were no infantry troops on the island, a provisional 
regiment was formed in case of an emergency which never arose. “I was 
one of the lucky ones,” says Chinchello.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Besides learning how to climb coconut trees (barefooted), he recalls 
the time the guys went wild boar hunting on the island of Maui. “I fired
 all eight rounds at him and the guy behind me was laughing!” The boar 
finally fell ten feet in front of Chinchello. When teased as to the fact
 that he killed the boar with the first few rounds, Chinchello 
responded, “I knew it and you knew it, but HE didn’t know it!” The boar 
was wrapped in palm leaves, buried in a pit of coals, and left to cook 
the rest of the day. Chinchello says, “I would have never guessed how 
tender and delicious it would be.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Note: Vince J. Chinchello, Jr. served in the Regular Army from 1946-1948 and again 1956-1960&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Two Tours in Vietnam&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

On November 16, 1966, Kenneth Wheat joined the United States Army. He
 went from Fort Ord, California to Fort Gordon, Georgia (for infantry 
training) to Fort Benning, Georgia (for Airborne training) to Vietnam, 
all in less than six months.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Assigned to the 9th Infantry Division in the Me Kong Delta, he was a 
part of the Moblie Riverine Force. In the army just over one year, Wheat
 was wounded by an enemy force of Viet Cong. The date was December 4, 
1967. For that mission, he received The Silver Star for Galantry in 
Action. After being treated for his wounds at Camp Zama, Japan, Wheat 
returned to the same unit in Vietnam.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When his first tour in Vietnam was completed, he returned to the 
United States and became a Military Policeman in Fort Ritchie. After 
getting married in 1969, Wheat was sent to &lt;a href=&quot;http://voices.yahoo.com/theme/506/germany.html&quot; title=&quot;Germany&quot;&gt;Germany&lt;/a&gt;
 for one year and then re-enlisted for Vietnam. His second tour of duty 
was with the 18th Engineer Brigade. Two years later, he returned to Fort
 Knox, Kentucky.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
His assignments included Arlington, Virginia; Korea; and two tours in
 Hawaii. Retiring on January 1, 1987, he went to work at the Martinsburg
 Veterans Affairs Medical Center, where he works to this day.&lt;br /&gt;

Note: In addition to The Silver Star and a Purple Heart, Kenneth 
Wheat has been awarded over fifteen medals for his service to this 
country.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;A Purple Heart&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“I was shot on March 1, 1970 in the town of Tay-Ninh, Vietnam.” It 
was April, 1970, and as William Czyzewski lay in his hospital bed at 
Walter Reed Medical Center, Washington, D.C., he learned the whys and 
the whats of the day he was shot. “We were cleaning out the area, just 
before the Americans made a push into Cambodia.” The day is still vivid 
in his memory.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“I was supposed to go in R&amp;amp;R that day, but I got bumped. We were 
busting jungle, looking for the enemy. In tanks. We came across a bunker
 complex. It was the Hilton of bunker complexes. Cement tops. The 
Captain said, ‘ One man off each tank get down and check out the bunker 
complex.’ I had an M16. I looked to the right of me, there was a man. 
There was a man to the left of me. I looked down and there was a beaten 
path. I couldn’t go anywhere, so I walked down the path.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“My basic training came back to me, I knew you don’t go down a beaten
 path, but I couldn’t go anywhere. I had guys to the right and left of 
me. I started down some steps. I looked down to the left and saw 
chickens in a pen and smoke from a fire. Just as I turned my eyes in 
front of me, I saw the muzzle flash.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“A guy was in the bush. They left a sniper. Just as I saw the flash, I
 was hit high in the left leg. I went down hard. I heard my mother’s 
voice telling me to lay there and be still, real still. I was bleeding 
hard. I laid there until all the fighting was over, then I hollered out 
that I was hit. A guy from another tank picked me up like a sack of 
potatoes and threw me over his shoulder and took me out of the jungle. I
 heard he got a Silver Star for doing that.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
“Next thing I remember, I was laying on a stretcher. Looking up in 
the sky, I could see the medical helicopter. I heard him on the radio 
saying that he was getting shot at with 51 caliber fire. I heard the 
Captain say, ‘ I don’t care, you come down and get this guy or we’ll 
shoot at you!’ He came down and the guys put me in the chopper. The guys
 put my booney hat and my pillow, I always had my pillow, they put them 
in the chopper with me. This guy patted my shoulder and pointed, I 
lifted up and looked out and saw the mountain and he pushed me back 
down. My hat and my pillow fell out of the chopper when he did that. I 
lost them both. They’re somewhere in Vietnam to this day.”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
After being unconscious for 48 hours, he woke up in Long-Binh, a 
Vietnam hospital. He was transferred to a hospital in Japan before 
finally ending up in Walter Reed. William Czyzewski was medically 
discharged in February 1971.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
After six years, Czyzewski’s leg had to be amputated. He says he’s 
had his sense of humor through it all and that being on the Honor Guard 
is his way of repaying the veterans for what they have done for him.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Thank a veteran today!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/2287767055560647739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/veterans-day-soldiers-reflections.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2287767055560647739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2287767055560647739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/veterans-day-soldiers-reflections.html' title='Veterans Day: Soldiers Reflections'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sTCDXdu39GE/UoF5IxfAc5I/AAAAAAAAA78/iadOZ5-bwQw/s72-c/american-flag.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-5921100080114766960</id><published>2013-11-03T17:00:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-03T17:00:27.505-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beach"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="compassion"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sandpipers"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sea"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thinking of Others"/><title type='text'>Sandpipers</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;
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&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7smDGYlf0Cg/Unbxem0DuQI/AAAAAAAAA7o/4fvlprWRbUo/s1600/Sandpiper_by_Dan_Pancamo.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7smDGYlf0Cg/Unbxem0DuQI/AAAAAAAAA7o/4fvlprWRbUo/s320/Sandpiper_by_Dan_Pancamo.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Dan Pancamo&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves as a
reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy life, living, and each
other.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.&quot; Life
is so complicated. The hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose
focus about what is truly important and what is only a momentary setback or
crisis. Today, tomorrow, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by
all means, take a moment....even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell
the roses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;She was six years old when I first met her on
the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four
miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand
castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hello,&quot; she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to
bother with a small child.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;m building,&quot; she said.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I see that. What is it?&quot; I asked, not really caring.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Oh, I don&#39;t know, I just like the feel of sand.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;That&#39;s a joy,&quot; the child said.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It&#39;s a what?&quot; I asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It&#39;s a joy, my mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.&quot; The bird
went gliding down the beach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&quot;Good-bye joy,&quot; I muttered to myself,
&quot;hello pain,&quot; and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed
completely out of balance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What&#39;s your name?&quot; She wouldn&#39;t give up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Robert,&quot; I answered. &quot;I&#39;m Robert Peterson.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Mine&#39;s Wendy....I&#39;m six.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hi, Wendy.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She giggled. &quot;You&#39;re funny,&quot; she said. In spite of my gloom, I
laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Come again, Mr. P,&quot; she called. &quot;We&#39;ll have another happy
day.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The days and weeks that followed belonged to others; a group of unruly Boy
Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater.
&quot;I need a sandpiper,&quot; I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The
ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly, but I
strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the
child and was startled when she appeared.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hello, Mr. P,&quot; she said. &quot;Do you want to play?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What did you have in mind?&quot; I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I don&#39;t know, you say.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;How about charades?&quot; I asked sarcastically.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Her tinkling laughter burst forth again. &quot;I don&#39;t know what that is.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Then let&#39;s just walk,&quot; I said. Looking at her, I noticed the
delicate fairness of her face. &quot;Where do you live?&quot; I asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Over there.&quot; She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I
thought, in winter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Where do you go to school?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I don&#39;t go to school. Mommy says we&#39;re on vacation.&quot; She chattered
little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly
better, I smiled at her and agreed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Three weeks later, I rushed to the beach in a
state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her
mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Look, if you don&#39;t mind,&quot; I said crossly when Wendy caught up with
me, &quot;I&#39;d rather be alone today.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. &quot;Why?&quot; she asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I turned to her and shouted, &quot;Because my mother died!&quot; and thought,
&quot;My God, why was I saying this to a little child?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Oh,&quot; she said quietly, &quot;then this is a bad day.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Yes,&quot; I said, &quot;and yesterday and the day before and - oh, go
away!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Did it hurt?&quot; she inquired&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Did what hurt?&quot; I was exasperated with her, with myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;When she died?&quot; she asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Of course it hurt!&quot; I snapped, misunderstand, wrapped up in myself.
I strode off.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn&#39;t there. Feeling
guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage
after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with
honey-colored hair opened the door.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hello,&quot; I said. &quot;I&#39;m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl
today and wondered where she was.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Oh, yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I&#39;m
afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my
apologies.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Not at all-she&#39;s a delightful child,&quot; I said, suddenly realizing
that I meant what I had just said.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn&#39;t
tell you.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn&#39;t say no. She
seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called &quot;happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly...&quot; Her voice faltered.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;She left something for you...if only I can find it. Could you wait a
moment while I look?&quot; I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to
say to this lovely young woman.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She handed me a smeared envelope with &quot;Mr. P&quot; printed in bold,
childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues - a yellow beach,
a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO
BRING YOU JOY.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten how to love
opened wide. I took Wendy&#39;s mother in my arms. &quot;I&#39;m so sorry, I&#39;m so
sorry, I&#39;m so sorry.&quot; I muttered over and over, and we wept together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -
one for each year of her life - that speak to me of harmony, courage, and
undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of
sand - who taught me the gift of love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Comic Sans MS&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Source: lifeofhope.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/5921100080114766960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/sandpipers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5921100080114766960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5921100080114766960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/11/sandpipers.html' title='Sandpipers'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7smDGYlf0Cg/Unbxem0DuQI/AAAAAAAAA7o/4fvlprWRbUo/s72-c/Sandpiper_by_Dan_Pancamo.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-5807668404018188591</id><published>2013-10-31T19:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-10-31T19:25:59.390-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Cost of a Smile"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Heart and Soul"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sharing Smiles"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="smile"/><title type='text'>Smile!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jneCiwgAktM/UnMQ_XP0HCI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/LMhWmajVIec/s1600/Smile.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;111&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jneCiwgAktM/UnMQ_XP0HCI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/LMhWmajVIec/s320/Smile.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Lovin’ Scoopful via Flckr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Smiles and happiness are SO 
good for the heart and soul. It is great medicine a person. The 
following thoughts are are fabulous reminders as to why a smile is so 
important.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;A smile costs nothing, but gives much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;It enriches those who receive, without making poorer those who give.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;It takes but a moment, but the memory of it sometimes lasts forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;None is so rich or mighty that he can get along without it, and none is so poor, but that he can be made rich by it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;A Smile creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in business, and is the countersign of friendship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;It brings rest to the weary, cheer to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and it is nature’s best antidote for trouble.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that is of no value to anyone, until it is given away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;Some people are too tired to give you a smile;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #4b4b4b;&quot;&gt;Give them one of yours, as none needs a smile so much as he who has no more to give.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/5807668404018188591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/10/smile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5807668404018188591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5807668404018188591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/10/smile.html' title='Smile!'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jneCiwgAktM/UnMQ_XP0HCI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/LMhWmajVIec/s72-c/Smile.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-6191193189469936118</id><published>2013-10-20T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-10-20T18:09:01.007-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Bible"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Deck of Cards"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Faith"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="soldier"/><title type='text'>A Soldier and His Deck of Cards</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;
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&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iIv40Jew65g/UmR-UMqExjI/AAAAAAAAA7I/nBTjx-8klyU/s1600/Deck+of+Cards.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iIv40Jew65g/UmR-UMqExjI/AAAAAAAAA7I/nBTjx-8klyU/s320/Deck+of+Cards.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: clarita via morguefile.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;During the
North American Campaign, a bunch of soldier boys had been on a long hike, and
arrived in a little town called Kasinok. The next morning being a Sunday,
several of the boys went to church. A sergeant commanded the boys in church,
and after the Chaplain had read the prayer, the text was taken up next. Those
of the boys who had prayer books took them out, but this one boy had only a
deck of cards, and so he spread them out. The sergeant saw the cards, and said
&quot;Soldier, put away those cards.&quot; &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After the services were over, the soldier was taken prisoner and brought before
the provost marshal. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The marshal said, &quot;Sergeant, why have you brought this man here!&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;For playing cards in church, sir.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;And what have you to say for yourself, boy?&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Much, sir,&quot; replied the soldier. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The marshal replied &quot;I hope so, for if not, I will punish you more
severely than any man has ever been punished.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The soldier said, &quot;Sir, I have been on march for about six days, and I
have neither Bible, nor prayer book; but I hope to satisfy you, sir, with the
purity of my intentions.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And with that, the boy started his story. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You see, sir, When I look at the ace, it reminds me that there is but one
God. And the deuce, it reminds me that the Bible is divided into two parts, the
Old and the New Testaments. And when I look at the trey, I think of the Father,
The Son, and The Holy Spirit. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;When I see the four, I think of the four evangelists who preached the
Gospel: there were Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. And when I see the five, it
reminds me of the five virgins who trimmed their lamps. There were ten of them:
five who trimmed their lamps, five were foolish and were shut out. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;And when I see the six, it reminds me that in six days God made this
great Heaven and Earth. When I see the seven, it reminds me that on the seventh
day, God rested from His great work. And when I see the eight, I think of the
eight righteous persons that God saved when He destroyed this earth. There was
Noah, his wife, and their sons and their wives. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;And when I see the nine, I think of the lepers our Savior cleaned,
because it was nine out of ten who didn&#39;t even thank Him. When I see the ten, I
think of the Ten Commandments that God handed down to Moses on a table of
stone. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;When I see the king, it reminds me that there is but one King of Heaven -
God Almighty. And when I see the queen... I think of Mary, the mother of Jesus.
And when I see the jack of knaves, it is the devil. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;When I count the number of spots on a deck of cards, I find 365, the
number of days in a year. There are 52 cards, the number of weeks in a year.
There are four suits, the number of weeks in a month. There are 12 picture
cards, the number of months in a year. There are 13 tricks, the number of weeks
in a quarter. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;So you see, sir, my pack of cards serves me as a Bible, almanac and
prayer book.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With a tear, the marshal just waved the soldier away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/6191193189469936118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/10/a-soldier-and-his-deck-of-cards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/6191193189469936118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/6191193189469936118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/10/a-soldier-and-his-deck-of-cards.html' title='A Soldier and His Deck of Cards'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iIv40Jew65g/UmR-UMqExjI/AAAAAAAAA7I/nBTjx-8klyU/s72-c/Deck+of+Cards.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-4801868406645537429</id><published>2013-10-04T17:49:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2013-10-04T17:49:56.569-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="helping others"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mother Teresa"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Prayer"/><title type='text'>&quot;Do It Anyway&quot;</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m9a194eF-DA/Uk9h7I90rcI/AAAAAAAAA6w/XoMQs_jygTQ/s1600/mother_teresa_tout.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;208&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m9a194eF-DA/Uk9h7I90rcI/AAAAAAAAA6w/XoMQs_jygTQ/s320/mother_teresa_tout.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: stevencox.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;The verses below reportedly were written on the wall of 
Mother Teresa’s home for children in Calcutta, India, and are widely 
attributed to her.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Some sources say that the words below were written on the 
wall in Mother Teresa’s own room.&amp;nbsp; In any case, their association with 
Mother Teresa and the Missionaries of Charity has made them popular 
worldwide, expressing as they do, the spirit in which they lived their 
lives.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;&lt;strong&gt;They seem to be based on a composition originally by Kent 
Keith, but much of the second half has been re-written in a more 
spiritual way.&amp;nbsp; Both versions are shown&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;The version found written on the wall in Mother Teresa’s home for children in Calcutta:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and&amp;nbsp;self-centered. &amp;nbsp;Forgive them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. &amp;nbsp;Be kind anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.&amp;nbsp; Succeed anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.&amp;nbsp; Be honest and sincere anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.&amp;nbsp; Create anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.&amp;nbsp; Be happy anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

The good you do today, will often be forgotten.&amp;nbsp; Do good anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.&amp;nbsp; Give your best anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

In the final analysis, it is between you and God.&amp;nbsp; It was never between you and them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;

- &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;this version is credited to Mother Teresa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

—————————————&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Original Version:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;The Paradoxical Commandments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;by Dr. Kent M. Keith&lt;/b&gt;:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;ol start=&quot;1&quot;&gt;
&lt;li&gt;People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.&lt;br /&gt;
Love them anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.&lt;br /&gt;
Do good anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies.&lt;br /&gt;
Succeed anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;
Do good anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;
Be honest and frank anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.&lt;br /&gt;
Think big anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.&lt;br /&gt;
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.&lt;br /&gt;
Build anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.&lt;br /&gt;
Help people anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.&lt;br /&gt;
Give the world the best you have anyway.&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;
© 1968, 2001 Kent M. Keith&lt;br /&gt;

————————————-&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;These are great, encouraging words and thought s to live by. My hope is that they touch your heart like they did mine!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

source: prayerfoundation.org</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/4801868406645537429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/10/do-it-anyway.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/4801868406645537429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/4801868406645537429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/10/do-it-anyway.html' title='&quot;Do It Anyway&quot;'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m9a194eF-DA/Uk9h7I90rcI/AAAAAAAAA6w/XoMQs_jygTQ/s72-c/mother_teresa_tout.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-5297325510108758536</id><published>2013-09-16T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-09-16T18:22:51.131-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hate"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="judging others"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life lessons"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mother and Child Relationship"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationship"/><title type='text'>The Mother With One Eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dE6SrGBmbbw/UjeuHG3YoSI/AAAAAAAAA6k/gbP2wmxvCv8/s1600/eye.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dE6SrGBmbbw/UjeuHG3YoSI/AAAAAAAAA6k/gbP2wmxvCv8/s320/eye.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Courtesy: Fran Ullola via Flickr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;I came across this story that simply broke my heart and 
reminded me of an important lesson: never judge a person until you know 
exactly of what made them the way they are… &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
My mom only had one eye. I hated her… She was such an embarrassment. She cooked for students and teachers to support the family.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say hello to me. I was so embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
How could she do this to me? I ignored her, threw her a hateful look 
and ran out. The next day at school one of my classmates said, “EEEE, 
your mom only has one eye!”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
I wanted to bury myself. I also wanted my mom to just disappear. I 
confronted her that day and said, “If you’re only gonna make me a 
laughing stock, why don’t you just die?” My mom did not respond… I didn’t even stop to think for a second 
about what I had said, because I was full of anger. I was oblivious to 
her feelings.
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her. So I studied real hard, got a chance to go abroad to study.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. I had kids of my 
own. I was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts. Then one day, 
my Mother came to visit me. She hadn’t seen me in years and she didn’t 
even meet her grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
When she stood by the door, my children laughed at her, and I yelled 
at her for coming over uninvited. I screamed at her, “How dare you come 
to my house and scare my children! GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!!”&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
And to this, my mother quietly answered, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I may 
have gotten the wrong address.” – and she disappeared out of sight.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. So I 
lied to my wife that I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I
 went to the old shack just out of curiosity.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
My neighbors said that she died. I did not shed a single tear. They handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;“My dearest son,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;I think of you all the time. I’m sorry that I came to your house and scared your children.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But
 I may not be able to even get out of bed to see you. I’m sorry that I 
was a constant embarrassment to you when you were growing up.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;You see……..when you were very little, you got into an accident,
 and lost your eye. As a mother, I couldn’t stand watching you having to
 grow up with one eye. So I gave you mine.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;With all my love to you,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Your Mother.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/5297325510108758536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-mother-with-one-eye.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5297325510108758536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/5297325510108758536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-mother-with-one-eye.html' title='The Mother With One Eye'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dE6SrGBmbbw/UjeuHG3YoSI/AAAAAAAAA6k/gbP2wmxvCv8/s72-c/eye.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-405561237292936738</id><published>2013-09-15T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-09-15T18:38:17.866-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A Poem About God"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A Visit From God"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="God"/><title type='text'>If God Came to Your House</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;
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&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lj-o52ycWeE/UjZgdjCfuJI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/CRLVENme-Iw/s1600/house.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;207&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lj-o52ycWeE/UjZgdjCfuJI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/CRLVENme-Iw/s320/house.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: David Wagner via publicdomainpictures.net&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;If &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot; title=&quot;Jesus&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Jesus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt; came to your house&lt;br /&gt;
To spend some time with you,&lt;br /&gt;
If He came unexpected,&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder what you’d do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Oh, I know
you’d give your nicest room&lt;br /&gt;
To such an honored guest&lt;br /&gt;
And all the food you’d give to Him&lt;br /&gt;
Would be the very best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;And you
would keep assuring Him&lt;br /&gt;
You’re glad to have Him there–&lt;br /&gt;
That serving Him in your home&lt;br /&gt;
Is joy beyond compare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;But when you
saw Him coming,&lt;br /&gt;
Would you meet Him at the door&lt;br /&gt;
With arms outstretched in welcome&lt;br /&gt;
To your heavenly visitor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Or would you
have to change your clothes&lt;br /&gt;
Before you let Him in&lt;br /&gt;
Or hide some magazines&lt;br /&gt;
And put the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/Holy-Bible-Manic-Street-Preachers/dp/B000666VKQ%3FSubscriptionId%3D0G81C5DAZ03ZR9WH9X82%26tag%3Dzemanta-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB000666VKQ&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot; title=&quot;Holy Bible: 10th Anniversary Edition&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Bible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt; where they’d been&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Would you
hide your worldly music&lt;br /&gt;
and put some hymn books out?&lt;br /&gt;
Could you let Jesus walk right&lt;br /&gt;
in, or would you rush about?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;And I wonder
– if the Savior&lt;br /&gt;
spent a day or two with you,&lt;br /&gt;
Would you go right on doing, the&lt;br /&gt;
things you always do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Would you go
right on saying, the&lt;br /&gt;
things you always say?&lt;br /&gt;
Or would life for you continue&lt;br /&gt;
as it does from day to day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Would you
take Jesus with you&lt;br /&gt;
everywhere you go?&lt;br /&gt;
Or would you maybe change your&lt;br /&gt;
plans for just a day or so?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Would you be
glad to have Him&lt;br /&gt;
meet your closest friends?&lt;br /&gt;
Or would you hope they stay away,&lt;br /&gt;
until His visit ends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Would you be
glad to have Him&lt;br /&gt;
stay forever on and on?&lt;br /&gt;
Or would you sigh with great&lt;br /&gt;
relief when He at last was gone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;It might be
interesting to know,&lt;br /&gt;
the things that you would do,&lt;br /&gt;
If Jesus came in person, to spend&lt;br /&gt;
some time with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/405561237292936738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/09/if-god-came-to-your-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/405561237292936738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/405561237292936738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/09/if-god-came-to-your-house.html' title='If God Came to Your House'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lj-o52ycWeE/UjZgdjCfuJI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/CRLVENme-Iw/s72-c/house.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-8631708850553093464</id><published>2013-08-31T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-08-31T18:57:21.477-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Grandma"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Grandma&#39;s Apron"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><title type='text'>Grandma&#39;s Apron</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwyjNI0QgSs/UiKb8qxIRII/AAAAAAAAA6A/whrEcx9BM5Q/s1600/Apron.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;210&quot; src=&quot;http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwyjNI0QgSs/UiKb8qxIRII/AAAAAAAAA6A/whrEcx9BM5Q/s320/Apron.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: klynslis via Flickr&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #423aea; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;When
 I was growing up, my grandmother lived with us. Her husband, my mom and
 her built the house that we lived in. Sadly, her husband, my grandpa, 
died when I was only four years old…so I don’t remember much about him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #423aea; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;My
 grandma (we called her Grammy) was my second mom. She would always be 
there when my brother and I got home from school. She would ask us how 
our day was she always had a tasty snack ready for us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #423aea; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;We learned a lot of things from Grammy during those years and many if these lessons I still use today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #423aea; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;The
 other day I found this neat little story called “Grandma’s Apron” on 
dobhran.com and it really brought back a lot of memories of my days as a
 kid with my grandma. I hope this story touches your heart the same way 
it did mine. It has a nice little message too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;The
 principle use of Grandma’s apron was to protect the dress underneath, 
but along with that, it served as a holder for removing hot pans from 
the oven. It was wonderful for drying children’s tears, and on occasion 
was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;From
 the chicken-coop the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, 
and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;When
 company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And 
when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms. Those big
 old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Chips
 and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron. From the
 garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been 
shelled it carried out the hulls. In the fall the apron was used to 
bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;When
 unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much 
furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;When
 dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, 
and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: .0001pt;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that “old-time apron” that served so many purposes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/8631708850553093464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/08/grandmas-apron.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/8631708850553093464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/8631708850553093464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/08/grandmas-apron.html' title='Grandma&#39;s Apron'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwyjNI0QgSs/UiKb8qxIRII/AAAAAAAAA6A/whrEcx9BM5Q/s72-c/Apron.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-2489820252431997467</id><published>2013-07-22T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-22T12:46:49.377-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Astronauts"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Computers"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Space Shuttle"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Technology"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The Moon"/><title type='text'>We Have Come A Long Way!</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhgXulcqPf4/Ue2Lw_yl4jI/AAAAAAAAA5k/-3y8CSIJuK4/s1600/moon.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhgXulcqPf4/Ue2Lw_yl4jI/AAAAAAAAA5k/-3y8CSIJuK4/s320/moon.jpg&quot; width=&quot;305&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Dzz via morguefile.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy Moon Day!!!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
It was 44 years ago today, July 20, 1969, that one of the biggest 
accomplishments of mankind happened…it was the day that man first walked
 on the moon. The astronauts, Michael Collins, Neil Armstrong and Edwin 
Aldrin, Jr. became instant worldwide heroes It had only been a short 22 
years earlier that the Soviet Union had become the first nation to ever 
launch an artificial satellite out of the earth’s atmosphere and enter 
space.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Upon landing at the moon base, “Tranquility Base”, Neil Armstrong 
announced from the space module “Eagle”, “the Eagle has landed.” Hours 
later, Neil Armstrong, stepped off of the Eagle’s ladder, put his foot 
upon the moon’s surface and declared: “That’s one small step for a man, 
one giant leap for mankind”.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Well, since then, our world has grown, discovered and developed things faster than anyone could imagine.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
It is hard to believe how far we have come as a world in forty years.
 Consider what been invented and developed since then…here are a few 
examples….&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The development of the home computer&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Flat screen and plasma TV’s&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Cell Phones&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The internet (for public use)&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Digital Cameras&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The Space Shuttle&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
The Space Station&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
NASA’s Hubble Space Telescope in 1999&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Face Book, Twitter, Instagram, and eBay&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
GPS (Global Tracking Systems)&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Video Game Consoles (Play Station, Xbox, Nintendo)&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Digital music and cameras&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
MRI’s&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
ATM’s&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Hybrid Cars&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Doppler Radar&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Camcorders&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Smart Phones&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Google (and other Search Engines)&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Electronic Word Processing&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Caller ID&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Blog Pages&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
And much, much more!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
Today’s world is a fascinating place. Technology and life styles are 
developing at incredible rates. It is mind-boggling to think about what 
things may be around in another 40 years from now. Some things, such as 
cell phones which screens will be able to be rolled up like scrolls 
(while still being able to read the screen), totally transparent cell 
phones, or planes such as the FAXX Concept fighter which has no vertical
 tail fins and will have “skin” that will be able to repair itself….and 
maybe…someday soon…trips to the moon and Mars!&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
It is an exciting time in the world’s history to live. We need to 
enjoy every minute that we experience here on this earth and appreciate 
all the awesome technology and information that we have at our 
fingertips. Some day in 40, 50 or 100 years from now, people will look 
back at our time and say… wow…we have come a long way!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/2489820252431997467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/we-have-come-long-way.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2489820252431997467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2489820252431997467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/we-have-come-long-way.html' title='We Have Come A Long Way!'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhgXulcqPf4/Ue2Lw_yl4jI/AAAAAAAAA5k/-3y8CSIJuK4/s72-c/moon.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-2322472117374076043</id><published>2013-07-21T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-21T18:09:50.717-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Cranky Old Man"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="old man"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Old People"/><title type='text'>Cranky Old Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWBZEz3a60M/UeyF7DtJHqI/AAAAAAAAA5U/VIvZ7p50nU4/s1600/old+man.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWBZEz3a60M/UeyF7DtJHqI/AAAAAAAAA5U/VIvZ7p50nU4/s320/old+man.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: chilombianovia morguefile.com&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;When
 an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an 
Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any
 value.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they 
found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that 
copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to 
posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines 
around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide 
presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the 
author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.&lt;br /&gt;

———————&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;CRANKY OLD MAN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What do you see nurses…What do you see?&lt;br /&gt;
What are you thinking…when you’re looking at me?&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;A cranky old man…not very wise,&lt;br /&gt;
Uncertain of habit…with faraway eyes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Who dribbles his food and makes no reply,&lt;br /&gt;
When you say in a loud voice…’I do wish you’d try!’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Who seems not to notice…the things that you do.&lt;br /&gt;
And forever is losing…A sock or shoe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Who, resisting or not…lets you do as you will,&lt;br /&gt;
With bathing and feeding…The long day to fill?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?&lt;br /&gt;
Then open your eyes, nurse…you’re not looking at me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I’ll tell you who I am…As I sit here so still,&lt;br /&gt;
As I do at your bidding…as I eat at your will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I’m a small child of Ten…with a father and mother,&lt;br /&gt;
Brothers and sisters…who love one another&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;A young boy of Sixteen…with wings on his feet,&lt;br /&gt;
Dreaming that soon now…a lover he’ll meet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;A groom soon at Twenty…my heart gives a leap.&lt;br /&gt;
Remembering, the vows…that I promised to keep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;At Twenty-Five, now…I have young of my own.&lt;br /&gt;
Who need me to guide…And a secure happy home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;A man of Thirty…My young now grown fast,&lt;br /&gt;
Bound to each other…With ties that should last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;At Forty, my young sons…have grown and are gone,&lt;br /&gt;
But my woman is beside me…to see I don’t mourn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;At Fifty, once more…Babies play ’round my knee,&lt;br /&gt;
Again, we know children…My loved one and me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Dark days are upon me…My wife is now dead.&lt;br /&gt;
I look at the future…I shudder with dread.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;For my young are all rearing…young of their own.&lt;br /&gt;
And I think of the years…And the love that I’ve known.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I’m now an old man…and nature is cruel.&lt;br /&gt;
It’s jest to make old age…look like a fool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;The body, it crumbles…grace and vigor, depart.&lt;br /&gt;
There is now a stone…where I once had a heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;But inside this old carcass…A young man still dwells,&lt;br /&gt;
And now and again…my battered heart swells&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I remember the joys…I remember the pain.&lt;br /&gt;
And I’m loving and living…life over again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I think of the years, all too few…gone too fast.&lt;br /&gt;
And accept the stark fact…that nothing can last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;So open your eyes, people…open and see.&lt;br /&gt;
Not a cranky old man .&lt;br /&gt;
Look closer…see…ME!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you 
might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all,
 one day, be there, too!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/2322472117374076043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/cranky-old-man.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2322472117374076043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/2322472117374076043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/cranky-old-man.html' title='Cranky Old Man'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWBZEz3a60M/UeyF7DtJHqI/AAAAAAAAA5U/VIvZ7p50nU4/s72-c/old+man.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-9035320273628306260</id><published>2013-07-12T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-12T10:17:59.651-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love stories"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="short love stories"/><title type='text'>Short Heartwarming Stories of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oYyD0JofCGA/UeA5TMbTgJI/AAAAAAAAA5I/z7QU37UWiQs/s1600/dailydaisy.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;223&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oYyD0JofCGA/UeA5TMbTgJI/AAAAAAAAA5I/z7QU37UWiQs/s320/dailydaisy.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Grandpa&#39;s Daisies via DyanDiamond.net&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
Generally speaking, today’s world is becoming a more and more 
depressing, discouraging, and sad place to live. People seem to be more 
selfish than they were years ago and the most important focus in a 
person’s life is the all-important “me.”&lt;br /&gt;

I thought that it would be a good idea to create a blog that focused on people &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;GIVING&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; things to other individuals rather than trying to &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;GET&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;
 things. &amp;nbsp;So, I decided to collect and share some short stories of love 
that I found from around the web, family, friends, and other people who 
contributed stories. It is my hope that these stories will inspire you, 
touch your heart, and in some small way, brighten your day. &amp;nbsp;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;

———————–&lt;br /&gt;

There was a song my grandparents loved called, “I’ll give you a daisy
 a day.” (By Jud Strunk)&amp;nbsp; It is about a husband and wife who enjoyed 
life, love and one another.&amp;nbsp; It is a beautiful tribute to romantic 
love.&amp;nbsp; In the song, the husband brings the wife a daisy a day – even 
after she passes on.&lt;br /&gt;

After my grandfather first heard this song he began to bring my 
grandmother daisies every day.&amp;nbsp; Years later, when he became ill, he 
brought some wild daisies from their farm and planted them in their 
yard.&amp;nbsp; He wanted her to always have daisies, even after he was gone.&amp;nbsp; 
They had a beautiful relationship.&amp;nbsp; They left nothing unsaid.&lt;br /&gt;

A friend of mine lost her best friend very recently.&amp;nbsp; It was sudden 
and tragic.&amp;nbsp; She was comforted&amp;nbsp;by the fact that they had said everything
 to one another, they never held anything in.&amp;nbsp; They gave each other 
daisies every day.&lt;br /&gt;

Never leave love unspoken.&amp;nbsp; Be sure to give everyone you love a daisy
 a day.&amp;nbsp; You never know how important a little daisy, a little love, can
 be.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;Note:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;The photograph on top of this blog is&amp;nbsp;the actual daisies my grandfather brought from the farm.&amp;nbsp; They still grow in their yard.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

Submitted by: Dyan – &lt;a href=&quot;http://dyandiamond.net/&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;htttp://DyanDiamond.NET&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

————————————&lt;br /&gt;

It was a busy morning in a hospital, when an elderly gentleman, came in to have stitches removed from his thumb.&lt;br /&gt;

He stated that he was in a hurry and he had an appointment, 30 
minutes from now. Then one of nurses came into the room, examined his 
wound and started to re-dress it.&lt;br /&gt;

While taking care of his wound, that nurse engaged him in a 
conversation with the old man. During the conversation, the nurse ask 
from the old man,&amp;nbsp; “Where do you have to be 30 minutes from now?”&lt;br /&gt;

The gentleman told her that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.&lt;br /&gt;

As they were talking, the nurse inquired about the health of his wife. He told that she was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.&lt;br /&gt;

After nurse finished dressing his wound, the nurse asked “if you are late, will she worry about it?”&lt;br /&gt;

He replied “no because she no longer knows who I am and she hasn’t recognized me for last five years.”&lt;br /&gt;

Surprised, the nurse asked him, “And you are still going every morning, even though she doesn’t know who you are?”&lt;br /&gt;

He smiled and patted nurse’s hand and said.&lt;br /&gt;

“She doesn’t know me, but I still know who she is.”&lt;br /&gt;

Source: &lt;a href=&quot;http://love-tenderly.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;http://love-tenderly.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

——————————&lt;br /&gt;

Today, my 8-year-old son hugged me and said, “You are the best mom in
 the whole entire world!” I smiled and sarcastically replied, “How do 
you know that? You haven’t met every mom in the whole entire world.” My 
son squeezed me tighter and said, “Yes I have. You are my world.”&lt;br /&gt;

Source: &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.marcandangel.com/&quot;&gt;http://www.marcandangel.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

——————————&lt;br /&gt;

One day an 11 year old girl asked her daddy, “what are you going to get me for my 15th birthday?”&lt;br /&gt;

Her father replied,” Please wait, there is much time left.”&lt;br /&gt;

When the girl was 14 years old, she fainted and was rushed to the 
hospital.&amp;nbsp;The doctor came out and told her dad that she had a bad heart 
and that she was probably going to die.&lt;br /&gt;

When she was lying in the hospital bed, she said softly, “daddy… have
 they told you that I am going to die?”&amp;nbsp;The father replied; “no, you are
 going to live” as he left her room weeping.&lt;br /&gt;

She asked, “how can you be so sure daddy?” He turned around from the door and said” because…I know.”&lt;br /&gt;

A short time later she turned 15. After she was released from the 
hospital and recovering she came home to find a letter on her bed which 
read…”My dearest daughter, if you are reading this letter it means that 
everything went well, just as I told you it would. A little while ago 
you asked me what I was going to give you for your 15&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; birthday. I didn’t know then, but my present to you was MY HEART.”&lt;br /&gt;

Source: &lt;a href=&quot;http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;http://soup-heart.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

——————————–&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;10th Grade&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to 
me.&amp;nbsp;She was my so called ‘best friend’. I stared at her long, silky 
hair,&amp;nbsp;and wished she was mine. But she didn’t notice me like that,&amp;nbsp;and I
 knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me for&amp;nbsp;the notes 
she had missed the day before. I handed them to her.&lt;br /&gt;

She said ‘thanks’&amp;nbsp;and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell 
her, I want her to know&amp;nbsp;that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her
 but I’m just too shy,&amp;nbsp;and I don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;11th grade&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, 
mumbling on and on about how her love had broken her heart. She asked me
 to come over because she didn’t want to be alone, so I did. As I sat 
next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was 
mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, 
she decided to go home.&lt;br /&gt;

She looked at me, said ‘thanks’&amp;nbsp;and gave me a kiss on the cheek…I 
want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just 
friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;Senior year&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;One day she walked to my locker. “My date is sick” she said,&amp;nbsp;”he’s 
not going to go” and I didn’t have a date, and in 7th grade,&amp;nbsp;we made a 
promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as 
‘best friends’.&lt;br /&gt;

So we did. That night, after everything was over, I was standing at 
her front door step. I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at 
me with her crystal eyes.&lt;br /&gt;

Then she said- “I had the best time, thanks!” and gave me a kiss on 
the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to 
be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;Graduation&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it 
was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel 
up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine-but she didn’t 
notice me like that, and I knew it.&lt;br /&gt;

Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her.&lt;br /&gt;

Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said- ‘you’re my best 
friend, thanks’ and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I 
want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but 
I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;Marriage&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married 
now and will drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted
 her to be mine, but she didn’t see me like that, and I knew it. But 
before she drove away, she came to me and said ‘you came!’.&lt;br /&gt;

She said ‘thanks’ and kissed me on the cheek. I want to tell her,&amp;nbsp;I 
want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but 
I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.&lt;br /&gt;

&lt;i&gt;Death&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my ‘best friend’.&lt;br /&gt;
At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years.&lt;br /&gt;

This is what it read:&lt;br /&gt;

‘I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn’t notice me like 
that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don’t
 want to be just friends,&lt;br /&gt;
I love him but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me!&lt;br /&gt;

Source: &lt;a href=&quot;http://rishikajain.com/&quot;&gt;http://rishikajain.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

——————————-&lt;br /&gt;

Today, my grandpa keeps an old, candid photo on his nightstand of my 
grandma and him laughing together at some party in the 1960’s. My 
grandma passed away from cancer in 1999 when I was 7. This evening when I
 was at his house, my grandpa caught me staring at the photo. He walked 
up, hugged me from behind and said, “Remember, just because something 
doesn’t last forever, doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth your while.”&lt;br /&gt;

Source: &lt;a href=&quot;http://makesmethink.com/&quot;&gt;http://makesmethink.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

——————————-&lt;br /&gt;

Today, I walked up to the door of my office (I’m a florist) at 7AM to
 find a uniformed Army soldier standing out front waiting. He was on his
 way to the airport to go to Afghanistan for a year. He said, “I usually
 bring home a bouquet of flowers for my wife every Friday and I don’t 
want to let her down when I’m away.” He then placed an order for 52 
Friday afternoon deliveries of flowers to his wife’s office and asked me
 to schedule one for each week until he returns. I gave him a 50% 
discount because it made my day to see something so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;

Source: &lt;a href=&quot;http://makesmethink.com/&quot;&gt;http://makesmethink.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;

———————————&lt;br /&gt;

I hope you enjoyed this blog and it brought a little sunshine to your
 life in some way. Find time each day to make your own story of love. 
Reach out and show how much you love and care for your “better half” 
whenever you can. I would love to create another blog of short love 
stories from collected from YOU! If you have a god story…share it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/9035320273628306260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/short-heartwarming-stories-of-love.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/9035320273628306260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/9035320273628306260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/short-heartwarming-stories-of-love.html' title='Short Heartwarming Stories of Love'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oYyD0JofCGA/UeA5TMbTgJI/AAAAAAAAA5I/z7QU37UWiQs/s72-c/dailydaisy.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-3066546300586003657</id><published>2013-07-01T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-07-01T17:55:17.769-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="power of love"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Power of Words"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="words"/><title type='text'>The Power of Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQJzNFooYiY/UdIkPGnklnI/AAAAAAAAA40/K8ArU4i-pXE/s615/mother-and-baby.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;239&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQJzNFooYiY/UdIkPGnklnI/AAAAAAAAA40/K8ArU4i-pXE/s320/mother-and-baby.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Anna Langova via publicdomainpictures.net&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on 
the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, 
prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going be
 a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his 
sister in mommy’s tummy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the 
Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown , Tennessee ! In 
time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three,
 every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen
 found herself in hours of labor.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Would a C-section be required?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, after a long struggle, Michael’s little sister was born. But 
she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, 
the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at 
St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell 
the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot.
 They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but 
now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. I 
want to sing to her, he kept saying.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Week two in intensive care looked 
as if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept 
nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in 
Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or 
not. If he didn’t see his sister right then, he may never see her alive.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Karen dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into 
ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket. The head nurse recognized 
him as a child and bellowed, ‘Get that kid out of here now. No children 
allowed’.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady 
glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse’s face, her lips a 
firm line.’He is not leaving until he sings to his sister’ she stated.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then Karen towed Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazed at the tiny 
infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang:&lt;br /&gt;
‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray’.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Instantly, the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘Keep on singing, Michael,’ encouraged Karen with tears in her 
eyes.’You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my 
sunshine away.’&lt;br /&gt;
As Michael sang to his sister, the baby’s ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten’s purr.&lt;br /&gt;
‘Keep on singing, sweetheart.’ ‘The other night dear, as I lay 
sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms’.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Michael’s little sister 
began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘Keep on singing, Michael’. Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t take my sunshine away…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘The next day…the very next day…the little girl was well enough to go home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Woman’s Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother’s Song .&lt;br /&gt;
The medical staff just called it a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;
Karen called it a miracle of God’s love.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;LOVE IS SO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt; NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
————————&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Source: MumbaiiteAnu&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/3066546300586003657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-power-of-words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/3066546300586003657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/3066546300586003657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-power-of-words.html' title='The Power of Words'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQJzNFooYiY/UdIkPGnklnI/AAAAAAAAA40/K8ArU4i-pXE/s72-c/mother-and-baby.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2708029245279479933.post-6228214892786220114</id><published>2013-06-30T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2013-06-30T19:21:51.474-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="A Story of Wisdom"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Temper"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thoughtfulness"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wisdom"/><title type='text'>We All Need A Dent in Our Car</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align=&quot;center&quot; cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_u8lj0YZUhQ/UdDmDFqC0-I/AAAAAAAAA4g/59OTs2gmdsY/s800/dent.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_u8lj0YZUhQ/UdDmDFqC0-I/AAAAAAAAA4g/59OTs2gmdsY/s320/dent.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;Photo Credit: Cookaa via Wikimedia&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I was reading a story by a friend of mine at “&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: #cccccc;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: yellow;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://pastormikesays.wordpress.com/&quot; title=&quot;Pastor Mike Says&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: windowtext;&quot;&gt;Pastor Mike Says&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;”
 the other day which really made me realize that not all things happen 
for reasons that we think. Sometimes things may occur to us that seem to
 have a definite clear-cut reason as to why it happened but actually, it
 took place for a completely different reason from what we thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;How many times in
 our lives to we react and / or jump to a conclusion before we know the 
real reason something happened. The following true story is a great 
illustration about jumping to conclusions and dealing with the “bricks” 
that occasionally may come into our lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;About ten years 
ago, a young and very successful businessman named Josh was driving down
 a Chicago neighborhood street. He was going way fast in his slick, 
black, 12 cylinder Jaguar XKE, which was only two months old. He was 
watching for kids running out from between parked cars and slowed down 
when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no child darted 
out, but a brick sailed out and…WHUMP! it smashed into the Jag’s shiny 
black side door! BRAKES SCREECHED!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Brakes slammed! 
Gears ground into reverse, and tires madly spun the Jaguar back to the 
spot from where the brick had been thrown. Josh jumped out of the car, 
grabbed the kid and pushed him up against a parked car. He shouted at 
the kid, “What was that all about and who are you? Just what do you 
think you are doing?!” Building up a head of steam, he went on. “That’s 
my new Jag, that brick you threw is going to cost you a lot of money. 
Why did you throw it?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;“Please, mister, 
please …. I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do!” pleaded the 
youngster. “I threw the brick because no one else would stop!” Tears 
were dripping down the boy’s chin as he pointed around the parked car. 
“It’s my brother, mister,” he said. “He rolled off the curb and fell out
 of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.” Sobbing, the boy asked the 
businessman, “Would you please help me by getting him back into his 
wheelchair? He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Moved beyond 
words, the young businessman tried desperately to swallow the rapidly 
swelling lump in his throat. Straining, he lifted the young man back 
into the wheelchair and took out his handkerchief and wiped the scrapes 
and cuts, checked to see that everything was going to be OK. He then 
watched, as the younger brother push him down the sidewalk toward their 
home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;It was a long 
walk back to the sleek, black, shining, 12 cylinder Jaguar XKE – a long 
and slow walk. Josh never did fix the dented side door of his Jaguar. He
 kept the dent to remind him not to go through life so fast that someone
 has to throw a brick at him to get his attention….. Some bricks are 
softer than others. Prepare yourself for the bricks of life that are 
coming at you and THINK before you REACT.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/feeds/6228214892786220114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/06/we-all-need-dent-in-our-car.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/6228214892786220114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2708029245279479933/posts/default/6228214892786220114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://soup-heart.blogspot.com/2013/06/we-all-need-dent-in-our-car.html' title='We All Need A Dent in Our Car'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11887122752884424875</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_u8lj0YZUhQ/UdDmDFqC0-I/AAAAAAAAA4g/59OTs2gmdsY/s72-c/dent.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>