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Jars for Fun
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Quotables
Dear God, Thank you for helping me with my anger. Now I have to ask You for some help. Do you remember my pocket comb? It was my very own. Could you please help me find it at the bus stop? I know You know everything, but I'm just learning. So, tomorrow when I go to school, could you please help me see it? Thanks God. You're really cool. Love, Adam
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Many people need to see a physical object to believe it is actually there. For them, something has to be concrete for it to be true. Most people like this have trouble believing in god. God cannot show Himself directly in flesh, so many think He cannot exist. Believers understand that He reveals himself in different ways. I am a strong Christian, so I see how God works through prayer and my mother. God and sports are a big part of my life. With so much danger involved in sports, I turn to God for protection. Usually I do this with a simple prayer. So as the Horizon game drew near, I constantly prayed for protection all week. Horizon turned out to be the biggest team in 5A football, so I was very nervous. Yet, when the game was over, I was not hurt. Although this does not seem very amazing, the fear in me during the game would make someone understand why this was so important to me. God had protected me because I was sincere in prayer. God answered my prayer because I meant what I had said and that made me realize that He would always be by my side. My mom had also prayed for me that game. She understands God better than I do and probably will always understand Him better. From that game and from the day I could say "god, she has always shown me that God is present in my life. Whenever something happened that I did not understand, she would explain how God was working in my life. When I got hurt in football two years ago, I became frustrated. My mom told me that I was being humbled by God. Although I thought it was just another line, I found out a year later when I just pray, I have always done better. God does show himself to people in little ways. If someone truly believes, then God will reveal himself to them. I wish I could have prayed a little harder before the Red Mountain Game. * NOTE: * In 1994, Brendon received a serious knee injury during the Red Mountain Game which prevented him from playing the last games of the season. That year, Brendon was named second in the state for his position as running back. When Brendon wrote this, he lived with his family in Scottsdale, Arizona. Today in 2001, Brendon is an accomplished college graduate employed by Sun Microsystems of Boise, Idaho. ~ It's All A Matter of Chemistry ~
... what's inside that is.
A store owner was tacking a sign above his door that read, "Puppies for Sale." The signs have a way of attracting children. Soon a little boy appeared at the sign and asked, "How much are you gonna sell those puppies for?" The store owner replied, "Anywhere from $30 - $50." The little boy reached into his pocked and pulled out some change. "I have $2.37, can I look at them?" The store owner smiled and whistled. Out of the kennel came his dog named, Lady, running down the aisle of his store followed by five little puppies. One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy. He asked, "What's wrong with that little dog?" The man explained that when the puppy was born the vet said that this puppy had a bad hip socket and would limp for the rest of his life. The little boy got really excited and said, "That's the puppy I want to buy!" The man replied, "No, you don't want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I'll give him to you." The little boy got upset. He looked straight into the man's eyes and said, "I don't want you to give him to me. He is worth every bit as much as the other dogs and I'll pay the full price. In fact, I will give you $2.37 now and 50 cents every month until I have him paid for." The man countered, "You really don't want this puppy, son. He is never gonna be able to run, jump and play like other puppies." The little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the man and said, "Well, I don't run so well myself and the little puppy will need someone who understands." The man was now biting his bottom lip. Tears welled up in his eyes. He smiled and said, "Son, I hope and pray that each and every one of these puppies will have an owner such as you." In life, it doesn't matter who you are, but whether someone appreciates you for what you are, accepts you and loves you unconditionally. A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks away.
Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store. She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries. She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food. John Stevensen, the grocer, scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store. Visualizing the family needs, she said: 'Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can." John told her he could not give her credit, as she did not have a charge account at his store. Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family. The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery list? Louise replied, "Yes sir" "O.K." he said, "put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries." Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed. The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down. The grocer staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't believe it."
The Pickle Jar
When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully, and say, "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back." Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. "These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me." We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again." He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. "You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to that." The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening, "You'll never have to eat beans again...unless you want to." The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. "She probably needs to be changed," she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. "Look," she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak. *Just as God, our heavenly Father/Mother, who gave us our earthly father/mother. He also gave us an earthly FAMILY...in this day of acronyms, do you think it's an accident that family is: (F)ather
(A)nd (M)other (I) (L)ove (Y)ou ? |
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© 1998-2009 Mary B.
Puplava
P. O. Box 503147 San Diego, CA 92150-3147
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NOTE:
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Maddux is wife of Pastor Bob Maddux 
ADAM'S
PRAYERS
EMERGENCY
FRIEND SYSTEM
Puppies
4 Sale
How Much Does A Prayer Weigh?
The customer
smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the
scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries
on them until the scales would hold no more. The grocer stood there in utter
disgust. Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it
with greater amazement. It was not a grocery list. It was a prayer which said:
"Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands."
The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and placed on the
scales and stood in stunned silence. Louise thanked him and left the store. The
customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to John as he said, "It was worth every
penny of it." It was sometime later that John Stevensen discovered the
scales were broken; therefore, only God knows how much a prayer weighs.
The pickle jar, as
far back as I can remember, sat on the floor beside the dresser in my
parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets
and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy I
was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped
into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost
empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper
and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured
through the bedroom window.