Shakerules Diaries

Angels. Do you believe in angels? Well, I do. I believe angels exists and angels are sent by God to provide us. The function of Angels is to provide us with spiritual and emotional needs, Basically speaking, they care of us. Angels work primarily on the emotional planet, but once we’re open to them, we can feel their presence around us all the time.

Angels are celestial beings closest to humans, Angels are the intermediaries between God and mortals. Angels are assigned by God to every human being at the time of his/her birth, they assist every aspect of life in the universe. These Angels are seen with human bodies, wings and clothed in various garments depending on the traditions and visual acceptance of human they have been assigned to. The only thing Angels do not help humans do is destroy themselves, the planet and other human beings, they are always a force for all that is positive, good and true.

Do you know some angels? Or do you know who is your guardian angel? Well here are some well known Angels today.

Michael – mean “Who is life God”, “like unto God”, “Who is like the Divine”. The first Angel created by God, Michael is the leader of all Arcangels and is charge of protection, courage, strength, truth and integrity. Michael conquered the fallen angel Satan with his flaming sword.

Raphael – mean “Healing Power of God”, The Divine has Healed”, “God Heals”. Raphael came from Hebrew word “Rapha” which mean “doctor” or “healer”. Raphael is a powerful healer and assists with all forms of healing – humans and animals. The chummiest and funniest of all Angels, Raphael is often pictured chatting merrily with mortal beings. He’s very sweet, loving, kind and gentle. Also Raphael is the patron of Travelers.

Gabriel – mean “Strength of God”, “The Divine is my Strength”, God is my Strength”. The only angel depicted as female in art and literature, Gabriel is known as the “messenger” Angel and is one of the four Arcangels named in Hebrew tradition and is considered one of the two highest-ranking Angels in Judeo-Christian and Islamic religious lore. She is storng and powerful Arcangel, and those who call upon her will find themselves pushed into action that leads to beneficial results. Gabriel can bring message to just as she did to Elizabeth and Mary of impending births of their sons, John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth.

Uriel – mean “God is Light”, “God is Light”, Fire of God”. Uriel is considered one of the wisest Arcangel because of his intellectual information, practical solutions and creative insight, but he is very subtle. You may not even realize he has answered your prayer until you’ve suddenly come up with a brilliant new idea. Uriel warned Noah of the impending flood, helped the prophet to interpret mystical predictions about the coming Messiah and delivered the Cabal to human kind. Uriel’s area of expertise is divine magic, problem solving, spiritual understanding, studies, alchemy, weather, earth changes and writing.

Do you know the Arcangels on our everyday life? There were 7 days in a week and each of them has its own Arcangels everyday.

Monday – St. Gabriel (special messenger of God)
Tuesday – St. Raphael (Healer & Guide for the Christian Pilgrim)
Wednesday – St. Uriel (Arcangel of Justice)
Thursday – St. Seatiel ( Arcangel of worship & comtemplation)
Friday – St. Jhudiel ( Arcangel of the Divine Mercy)
Saturday – Barachiel ( Arcangel of Divine Providence)
Sunday – St. Michael ( Prince of Heavenly Host)

Weather you believe in Angels or not doesn’t matter, what’s matters most is they are always there when you needed them the most. But of course Angels don’t replace God as your savior. Angels are only sent to guide us to our Lord Jesus Christ. God Bless us All!

How would you feel if you love a person so much and then all of a sudden he or she will tell you upfront that it is all over, that he/she is already suffocated and tired of your relationship?  How would you feel after all the hardships and sacrifices that you have given all of these will be told to you on an emotionless way?

The love that you felt before will turn into pain and for some it might be an endless pain and for many it would then be after all the pain turn into an emotion of anger and hatred.

Love is a great feeling and it makes you feel secure and important but most of the time when love ends it hurts so much that you wish to die and hope that all that is happening is just a bad dream.

Most of the time as well, along life’s journey we tend to love not only one person but multiple persons.  We will stay with one and settle with that person but in order to preserve that relationship and satisfy some of our longings we might end up in somebody’s arms and loving that person as well.  In the end we will realize that the person who really loves us is the person that we neglected and tend to hurt the most.

Love is a complex feeling.  It is not easy to decipher and loving someone means life and death, happiness or pain.  Whatever path we take in love we will surely experience both sides of the love equation.

How would you feel if you already feel that your personality and dignity is already being trampled upon?  If someones sanity will be tested I think this is the time that you will be thinking what have you done that is so wrong and made all of the love blunders you are experiencing and turn it into your worst nightmare.

I had been in love… once… not twice.. but many times.  And I had been hurt a number of times as well.  I had trusted and loved people so much but those that I loves truly sometimes are the once who will hurt me the most and in the end leave me.

A treasure once but in the end thrown like a trash and no longer glanced or looked back at.

But in the ultimate end the good thing is that we have love and if someone breaks our heart always remember that it is not our loss but it is the loss of the person breaking us… we will still be alive tomorrow… to love and try again.

We often times asked ourselves why do we love someone and why are we always hurting deep inside whenever that someone leaves us. We asked ourselves if it is still worth it to love someone and just be hurt in the end.

Sa dinami dami nga naman ng mga pwedeng maramdaman sa mundo bakit pagibig ang parehong napakasarap at napakasakit na bagay na pwedeng maramdaman ng isang tao. Masaya ka pag andyan ang taong mahal mo pero sa sandaling saihin nya na teka muna andyan na ang sakit na iyong mararamdaman. Hmmm… ang gulo noh. Pero natanong na ba natin o napag-isipan natin kung ano nga ba ang pag-ibig.

Para sa akin ang pag-ibig dati ay sinisimbulo ng dalawang taong nagmamahalan ng tapat at totoo sa bawat isa. Ito ang pag-ibig… pero sa sandaling ito, naiba na ang pananaw ko sa pag-ibig…

Ang pag-ibig ay isang bagay na ibinibigay mo at ipinararamdam sa isang tao ng wala kang hinihintay na anumang kapalit. Hindi mo hinihintay na ibigin ka rin nya o suklian ang anumang pagmamahal na iyong ipinakikita.

Love is something that we give freely without expecting something in return. When we feel this then we have truly experience the power of love.

Para sa akin nararanasan ko na ito… anupaman ang mangyari patuloy kung mamahalin ang mga taong mahal ko at kailanman ay hindi ako aasa na suklian nila ang pagmamahal na ito… maging sila ay kaibigan… kasama o tunay kong minamahal sa puso.

Di na kailangang maghintay sapagkat ang ganitong pag-ibig ay hindi naghihintay subalit patuloy na nagbibigay.Salamat sa taong nagturo sa akin na magmahal ng ganito… MARAMING SALAMAT!

When I am with you, I feel alive. You bring to me a happiness that no one else ever could. You bring to me a love I have never known before. I could not imagine what my life would be like without you. You have touched my heart in ways no one could ever comprehend. I love being with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Every day I wake up thanking God for you. You have given me so much, and I don’t know if I will be able to give back all that you have given me. You have been my guiding light when I was lost. You have been my comforter through all my trials and sorrow. You have been my rock.

Sometimes I feel lost and out of touch, but when you’re there, I feel safe. Your voice soothes me. I could sit here and try to tell you just how I feel, but I can’t find the words other than I am ecstatic we met and have gotten together after all we’ve gone through.

I want to tell you that the love I have for you is undying. It is a love that is strong and enduring and will stand the test of time. I truly feel blessed that you have become a part of my life, and I cannot wait for the day that we can join our lives together. I want to lie next to you at night and fall asleep in your arms. I want to wake to your beautiful smile. I want to share in your joys and sorrows. I want to be your everything, because you are everything to me.

I promise to always love you and always hold you in my heart. I will always be here for you when you need me, and I will love you no matter what life brings us. You are my soul mate, and I vow to love you all eternity. I love you, just the way you are.

We’ve been friends for so long. There have been lots of tears and so much laughter between us. I feel closer to you than anyone else. I’ve listened and hurt every time you fell in love, longing to be the one in your arms. I’ve been there for you when every one of your relationships fell apart. You listened and cried with me when we found out about the cancer and you stood by my side through all of it. Now is the time to tell you that the waiting is over.

The love you so desperately seek is here in my arms. You’ve often asked why I’m not interested in any of the women who hit on me when we’re all out. I’ve always told you they weren’t the one for me. Now I’m telling you that you are the one for me. You’re the one I dream about. No one can make me laugh like you, even when I’m knee deep in tears. The reason I’ve been alone for five longs years is this: I’ve been waiting for you to see the love in my eyes that’s only for you. I’ll wait forever if that’s how long it takes. I need you. I miss you when you’re gone, and I hurt when you’re sad. I love you, you are everything to me .

I took my daughter, Helen (eight years old) and son, Brandon (five years old) to the Cloverleaf Mall in Hattiesburg to do a little shopping. As we drove up, we spotted a Peterbilt eighteen-wheeler parked with a big sign on it that said, “Petting Zoo.” The kids jumped up in a rush and asked, “Daddy, Daddy. Can we go? Please. Please. Can we go?”

“Sure,” I said, flipping them both a quarter before walking into Sears. They bolted away, and I felt free to take my time looking for a scroll saw. A petting zoo consists of a portable fence erected in the mall with about six inches of sawdust and a hundred little furry baby animals of all kinds. Kids pay their money and stay in the enclosure enraptured with the squirmy little critters while their moms and dads shop.

A few minutes later, I turned around and saw Helen walking along behind me. I was shocked to see she preferred the hardware department to the petting zoo. Plus, I thought the children had to wait till the parents came to pick them up. I bent down and asked what was wrong.

She looked up at me with those giant limpid brown eyes and said sadly, “Well, Daddy, it cost fifty cents. So, I gave Brandon my quarter.” Then she said the most beautiful thing I ever heard. She repeated the family motto. The family motto is in “Love is Action!”

She had given Brandon her quarter, and no one loves cuddly furry creatures more than Helen. She had watched both me and my wife do and say “Love is Action!” for years around the house. She had heard and seen “Love is Action,” and now she had incorporated it into her little lifestyle. It had become part of her.

What do you think I did? Well, not what you might think. First, we went back to the Petting Zoo, since Brandon was by himself. We stood by the fence and watched Brandon go crazy petting and feeding the animals. Helen stood with her hands and chin resting on the fence and just watched Brandon. I had fifty cents burning a hole in my pocket; I never offered it to Helen, and she never asked for it.

Because she knew the whole family motto. It’s not “Love is Action.” It’s “Love is SACRIFICIAL Action!” Love always pays a price. Love always costs something. Love is expensive. When you love, benefits accrue to another’s account. Love is for you, not for me. Love gives; it doesn’t grab. Helen gave her quarter to Brandon and wanted to follow through with her lesson. She knew she had to taste the sacrifice. She wanted to experience that total family motto. Love is sacrificial action.

Some years ago, a tiny Korean orphan arrived in the United States to join her adoptive family. She was nine months old and weighed only 9 ½ pounds. She grew and blossomed in her new home, but remained a diminutive size. Her new name was Edie.

One day when Edie was in second grade, she ran home from school, crying. She was frightened. That day, three new girls had been enrolled in her class. During the first recess, they picked the smallest girl in the class as the object of their anger and frustration. They pinched, poked, and pushed tiny Edie and threatened to beat her up. Edie had spent an hour in the principal’s office with the three girls and was assured the teachers would be watching. The girls were given a warning.

Edie’s mother held her little one and comforted her. She learned later, after speaking with the principal, that the girls had been troublemakers at several other schools. They were being given one more chance at anew beginning.

“These girls must have been very hurt in their young lives to be so angry. Her mother said. “The Bible tells us, “Be kind to your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you. Edie, let’s pray.” Then they prayed for the girls and asked the Lord for a plan of action.

A plan began to take shape. “I can’t go to school with you everyday, so you will need to stay close to a teacher when you are at recess or in line to go into school.” said Edie’s mom. “If the girls start to pick on you, tell them, “I’d really like to be your friend Are you brave enough to do that?” Edie’s mother asked. “The Lord asks us to be kind to our enemies, let’s see what happens, okay?

The tiny girl perked up, and with a smile, looked at her mother and said, “Yes, Mom, I’ll try.”

The next morning, and everyday before Edie left for school, she and her mom prayed for her to be safe and brave, and for the girls to be open to God’s love. Everyday, the girls shoved into line behind Edie and called her names and tried to get in a poke or two.

Each time, Edie looked up at them and said, “I’d really like to be your friend.” She did have to look up at them since they were so much taller than she was. The teachers kept an eye on the proceedings, but did not need to interfere as the girls were not hurting her.

After about two weeks, Edie came home looking so discouraged. She told her mother that she didn’t think it was working. After they talked about it some more and prayed, she decided to keep trying and continued to faithfully tell them, “I’d really like to be your friend.”

One day the following week, Edie ran home as fast as she could and ran into the house shouting, “Mom, Mom, guess what happened today? Just like I always did, I said I’d really like to be your friend, and one of the girls said, “Okay, Edie, we give up, we’ll be your friend.”

Edie and her mom thanked the Lord for His faithfulness.

A short time later, as the girls were trying to become friends, Edie asked the teacher if she could sit at a table with these girls in the classroom. She had noticed that they were disruptive because they didn’t understand the lessons. Edie became their tutor.

Toward the end of the school year, when Edie’s parents went to school for a parent teacher conference, the teacher told them, “Because of Edie’s kindness, those girl’s have completely turned around and are productive members of the class.” She felt she had witnessed a miracle. And so did Edie’s mom and dad.

How many people go through life never experiencing kindness? They don’t see it in strangers, and some don’t even find it in their own families. Without experiencing kindness, it becomes impossible to express kindness toward others. The result of this tragic lack is seen everywhere. What a different society this would be if everyone who has received kindness would be kind to others, especially the unlovely.

There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. As she was getting her things “in order,” she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. One of her requests was to be buried with her favorite Bible.

Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. “There’s one more thing,” she said excitedly. “What’s that?” came the pastor’s reply. “This is very important,” the woman continued.. “I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.” The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite what to say. “That surprises you, doesn’t it?” the woman asked.

“Well, to be honest, I’m puzzled by the request,” said the pastor.

The woman explained. “In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say,”keep your fork.” It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance! So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them: “Keep Your Fork. The best is yet to come”

The pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the woman’s casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over the pastor heard the question “What’s with the fork?” And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you oh so gently, that the best is yet to come.

May God Bless you and keep you safe!

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.

I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person – her name was “Information, Please” and there was nothing she did not know. “Information, Please” could supply anybody’s number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. “Information, Please,” I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear, “Information.”

“I hurt my finger,” I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question. “Nobody’s home but me.” I blubbered.

“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.

“No,” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.” “Can you open your icebox?” she asked. I said I could.

“Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.

After that, I called “Information, Please” for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called “Information, Please” and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child, but I was inconsolable.

I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?”

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.”

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. “Information, Please.”

“Information,” said the now familiar voice.

“How do you spell fix?” I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. “Information, Please” belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy. A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, “Information, Please.” Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, “Information.” I hadn’t planned this but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?”

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, “I guess your finger must have healed by now.” I laughed. “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time.”

“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls.”

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

“Please do,” she said. “Just ask for Sally.” Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered, “Information.”

I asked for Sally.

“Are you a friend?” She asked.

“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “Sally has been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.”

Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you.”

The note said, “Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.”

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today?

Some of the greatest success stories of history have followed a word of encouragement or an act of confidence by a loved one or a trusting friend. Had it not been for a confident wife, Sophia, we might not have listed among the great names of literature the name of Nathaniel Hawthorne. When Nathaniel, a heartbroken man, went home to tell his wife that he was a failure and had been fired from his job in a customhouse, she surprised him with an exclamation of joy.

“Now,” she said triumphantly, “you can write your book!”

“Yes,” replied the man, with sagging confidence, “and what shall we live on while I am writing it?”

To his amazement, she opened a drawer and pulled out a substantial amount of money. “Where on earth did you get that?” he exclaimed.

“I have always known you were a man of genius,” she told him. “I knew that someday you would write a masterpiece. So every week, out of the money you gave me for housekeeping, I saved a little bit. So here is enough to last us for one whole year.”

From her trust and confidence came one of the greatest novels of American literature, The Scarlet Letter.

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord’s voice. The young man couldn’t help but wonder, “Does God still speak to people?”

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways. It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, “God.. If you still speak to people speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.”

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought, stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, “God is that you?” He didn’t get a reply and started on toward home. But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk. The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn’t recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. “Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.” It didn’t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk.

He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home. As he passed Seventh street, he again felt the urge, “Turn down that street.” This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection.

Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, “Okay, God, I will”. He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop.

He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi- commercial area of town. It wasn’t the best but it wasn’t the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.

Again, he sensed something, “Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.” The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. “Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.”

Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk. Finally, he opened the door, “Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.”

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man’s voice yelled out, “Who is it? What do you want?” Then the door opened before the young man could get away.

The man was standing there in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn’t seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. “What is it?” The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, “Here, I brought this to you.”

The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face. The man began speaking and half crying, “We Were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.”

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, “I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?” The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man’s hand.

He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers.

Dear Friend,

As You got up this morning, I watched you and hoped you would talk to me, even if it was just a few words, asking my opinion or thanking me for something good that happened in your life yesterday but I noticed you were to busy trying to find the right outfit to put on and wear to work or class. I waited again. When you ran around the house or dorm getting ready I knew there would be a few minutes for you to stop and say hello, but you were too busy. At one point you had to wait fifteen minutes w/ nothing to do except sit in a chair. Then I saw you spring to your feet. I thought you wanted to talk to me but you ran to the phone and called a friend to get the latest gossip. I watched as you went to school and work and I waited patiently all day long. With all your activities, I guess you were too busy all day to say anything to me. I noticed that before lunch you looked around, maybe you felt embarrassed to talk to me, that is why you didn’t bow your head. You glanced three or four tables over and you noticed some of your friends talking to me briefly before they ate, but you didn’t. That’s okay. There is still more time left, and I have hope that you will talk to me even yet.

You went home and it seems as if you had lots of things to do. After a few of them were done, you turned on the TV or the net; I don’t know if I like TV or computers or not, just about anything goes there & you spend a lot of time each day in front of them, not thinking about anything-just enjoying the show. I waited patiently again as you watched TV and ate your meal but again you didn’t talk to me. At bedtime I guess you felt too tired. After you said goodnight to your family you plopped into bed and fell asleep in no time. That’s okay because you may not realize that I am always there for you. I’ve got patience, more than you will ever know. I even want to teach you how to be patient with others as well. Because I love you so much, a long time ago I left a wonderful place called Heaven and came to Earth. I gave it up so that I could be ridiculed and made fun of. and I even died so you wouldn’t have to take my place. I love you so much that I wait everyday for a nod, praise or thought or a thankful part of your heart. It is hard to have a one-sided conversation. Well you are getting up again and once again I will wait with nothing but love for you hoping that today you will give me some time. Have a nice day!

Love Always, Your Friend,
Jesus

Despite their bad reputation, dandelions are pretty little flowers with their yellow strands all tucked neatly into the center. And truly they are the most beautiful of all flowers when presented clutched in a child’s dirty little hand. No one gets yelled at for picking them. Perhaps they grow only to be used and enjoyed by children.

Dandelions are ignored or attacked, never nurtured or cared for, and yet they always bloom profusely. They demand no pamper- ing or special attention to yield their bright blossoms; they pop up in fields, in lawns, and between cracks in the sidewalk, even in the best neighborhoods. Can you imagine trying to grow them in a garden? They’d sneak through the boundaries and pop their sunny yellow faces up in the surrounding lawn. They would never stay put!

Christians should be more like dandelions. Our sunny yellow faces should be a reminder that simple faith has deep roots that are impossible to dislodge. Our vast number would show the world that even though we are not fancy or pampered we are evident every- where, even in the best neighborhoods. We should be as easily accessible as a dandelion. Jesus is. We need to get out of our gardens and jump across the boundaries that keep us where people expect to find us. We need to show our sunny yellow faces in all the spots that need a little brightening up – the crack in the sidewalk or the lawn of a country club.

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.”

“Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?”

“I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

Throughout our lives we are blessed with spiritual experiences, some of which are very sacred and confidential, and others, although sacred, are meant to be shared.

Last summer my family had a spiritual experience that had a lasting and profound impact on us, one we feel must be shared. It’s a message of love. It’s a message of regaining perspective, and restoring proper balance and renewing priorities. In humility, I pray that I might, in relating this story, give you a gift my little son, Brian, gave our family one summer day last year.

On July 22nd I was enroute to Washington DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if they were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sank. When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, “Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital.”

My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.

By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.

The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the ails and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was okay, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage. Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.

Finally at two o’clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, “Daddy hold me,” and he reached for me with his little arms. [TEAR BREAK...smile] By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine our gratitude and joy. As we took Brian home we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.

In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.

The story is not over (smile)!

Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, “Sit down, Mommy. I have something to tell you.” At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed and he began his sacred and remarkable story.

“Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn’t hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the ‘birdies’ came.”

“The birdies?” my wife asked puzzled.

“Yes,” he replied. “The birdies made a swooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me.”

“They did?”

“Yes” he said. “One of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door.” A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as “birdies” because they were up in the air like birds that fly.

“What did the birdies look like?” she asked.

Brian answered, “They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Yes” he answered. “They told me the baby would be alright.”

“The baby?” my wife asked confused.

Brian answered, “The baby laying on the garage floor.” He went on, “You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave.”

My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian’s body and seeing his crushed chest and recognizable features, knowing he was already dead, she looked up around her and whispered, “Don’t leave us Brian, please stay if you can.” As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“We went on a trip,” he said, “far, far away.” He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn’t seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult. “We flew so fast up in the air. They’re so pretty Mommy,” he added. “And there is lots and lots of birdies.”

My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the “birdies” had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the “birdies”. He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay, but the man couldn’t hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him. He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn’t want to come back. Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him, and told him, “I love you but you have to go back. You have to play baseball, and tell everyone about the birdies.” Then the person in the bright light kissed him and waved bye-bye. Then woosh, the big sound came and they went into the clouds.

The story went on for an hour. He taught us that “birdies” were always with us, but we don’t see them because we look with our eyes and we don’t hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much. Brian continued, stating, “I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much.”

In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies. Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the “birdies.” Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.