My mother once said that I got a lot more ice cream and Coke than the other children because I wanted to be with my father all the time.  As my father was dying, the rest of the family who lived in town hovered around his bedside.  Yet, they concluded that Daddy wouldn’t die until I could travel the eight hours required to get there–and he didn’t.

As much as I loved my dad, I also knew that it was wisdom to fear him.  He was much bigger than me and he required obedience and respect.  He earned both.  

He could make anything.  Before he died, he built my mother her dream house.  It was two stories; and except for the inside finish work, he build all of it himself.  He also made our first set of water skis.  As my brother approached his teenage years, Dad decided that skiing would be a good family sport that we could all enjoy.  He had a small fishing boat.  Because we are all small in statue, he calculated that this boat could pull us fast enough to lift us from the water.  He was right.

Daddy found a friend who owned a pair of skis.  After examining them, he worked for several weeks to fashion and mold the wood into skis.  The next six or seven years were spent on various rivers and lakes skiing.  My brother because a champion skier.  I didn’t like to fall.  Therefore, I did the fancy, skiing that required little or no risk, while my brother did the real hard work of making me look good.

Whatever my father did, he threw himself into it with his whole body, mind and soul.  That included his relationship with the Lord.  He was about fifty years old before he truly came to know the Lord.  Even though we attended church multiple times each week, Dad didn’t have a vital relationship until one day as he was driving home from a wholesale warehouse.  He stopped his Volkswagen Beatle at a red light, put his head on the steering wheel and tearfully surrendered to his Heavenly Father as the complete Lord of his life.

From that moment, Daddy wanted to tell everyone about Jesus.  He was one of those weirdos who has Jesus quotes painted all over his car.  He shared his faith with everyone.  If people rejected him, he would laugh and say, “I could be wrong about going to heaven when I die.  Possibly, it might be like you say.  When we die, there could be nothing out there.  But even if I am wrong, I’ve lost nothing. Because I’m having a wonderful life.  You, on the other hand, are totally miserable; and if I’m right, you are going to die and go to hell.  I think the odds are on my side, don’t you?”

At my father’s funeral, his pastor told the audience a story the family had not heard.  When his pastor was a young man in the Navy, Daddy would come up to the bus stop where the workers would congregate to enter the Naval Shipyard.  Many mornings, Daddy would approach the group of men clustered on the side walk, shouting, “Good news!  Good news!”

There are always a new man who was there and he would ask, “What is it?”

Raising his hands into the air, Daddy would declare, “Jesus loves you and he died for your sins.  All you need to do is accept his love and you will be saved.”

His pastor said, “I could never forget what he said.  I carried that message all day, every day.  Finally, I surrendered to that good news and I came to take the Lord as my Savior.”

The heritage my father left me made it easy for me to understand a loving heavenly Father who delighted in me.  One who wanted me to have the best of everything.  I knew my heavenly Father would disciple me, when needed but with grief and fairness.  I can understand a tough, tender, passionately forgiving  Father who freely poured his love out on a silly child who wants to go anywhere, as long as my heavenly Father is going with me.

Read more: http://blog.beliefnet.com/simplelife/2011/06/my-dad.html#ixzz1PWshrsRT

Real Life is Full of Laughter

Real life is full of laughter and fun.

                         When we laugh,

                                                             we feel things inside ourselves.

Put yourself into a funny place.

                                               Watch a funny movie.

                                                                       Act out the funny parts.

                                                                      Make a funny face in the mirror.

Think of Jesus laughing with you.

Here is another poem by Shelly.  To see her other works, go to Shelly’s page.

Shelly and Friends at Special Gathering

You, Lord, are the music in me,

                                   You are our lives and who we can be.

To show every one that we are different,

                                                        We must keep up our faith.

                           And tell what is keeping us strong.

Of course, our strength comes from

                                                  knowing how much we need you, Lord.

                                                                                              Keep the music strong.

This story began on June 24.  You may want to go there to begin this book. 

          “Honey, all I’m saying is that the father had enough love to cover both of his sons, different as they were.  Mom and Dad have more than enough love to cover both you and Janet, different as you are.  Jesus has enough love to accept everyone who comes to Him, no matter who or what they are.  The Bible has the answer to every problem in life you’ll ever meet if you search for it with an open mind and heart.  And that’s all the preaching.”

            I sat under the tree after Ron left, thinking about what he had said.  I had to admit that parable might have been written just for me.  I was the self-righteous elder son to the life.  Pride in the fact that I was always good was just as much a sin as the things Janet had done.

            I didn’t know if Janet had really let Jesus into her heart or not.  I didn’t know how she would act.  I didn’t know if I could love her again or not.

            But I did know I didn’t have any right to doubt my parents’ love for me.  I didn’t have the right to tell them to turn their backs on Janet.  They loved her and always would because they were like the father in the parable.  I wouldn’t want them to change.  The one who needed to change was me.  This time I was the prodigal son.  I had been the sinner.

            I packed my bag and started to walk home from the far country.

The end

This book began on June 24.  You may want to go there to start your reading.

I sat looking at my hands but Ron continued with his story.  “The father was always watching for his son.  He saw him when he first came in sight, and he was overjoyed.  He ran to his son and hugged and kissed him.

“The son said, ‘Father, I have sinned against God and against you and I’m not worthy to be called your son.’

“‘Bring him the best robe, a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet,’” the father said.  ‘Kill the fatted calf and let’s have a great feast. Let’s eat and be merry.’”

“That’s the story of the prodigal son,” I said.  “I’ve known that since kindergarten. I told you I know God forgives sinners.”

“But there’s more to the story, Nina.  That was the part about the younger son.  How about the elder son?

“He knew he’d been good.  He’d worked hard to please his father, and he’d obeyed his every command.  He was angry now.  ‘You never gave me a party,’ he said. ‘You never killed the fatted calf for me.  Why are you doing it for your other son, who been such a sinner?’ 

“His father answered, ‘Son, you’re always with me and everything I have is yours.  It’s right for us to have a party for your brother, because he was lost and now he’s found.’”

“Do you think it was wrong for the elder son to be good and try to please his father, Ron?” I asked. “I thought that was what everyone was supposed to do.”

“Of course, it wasn’t wrong.  Good works are never wrong.  But the way he acted toward his brother makes me think he might have been proud and jealous of his position.  He didn’t want to share his father’s love.”

“Are you saying that I’m mean and jealous like the elder son?”

Ron looked at me and sighed, just the way Mary Beth’s mother had done.  Why did everyone think I was wrong?  It would be the same old story.  They’d all greet Janet with open arms, and I’d be the one who’d be left out, with no one caring how I felt.

This book began on June 24.  You may want to go there to begin reading.

“Let’s sit on these chairs under the tree and talk about hat, Honey,” Ron said.

“Please don’t tell me that I should be sweet and kind and greet her with love and kisses and let her walk all over me again.”

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” Ron said, smiling at me.  “That’s what Jesus taught us to pray, you know.”

“I know God says to forgive sinners if they repent.  I just don’t believe that Janet is really sorry.  She’s done this so often, and every time Mom and Dad get hurt.  I really don’t want her home again.  And I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

“You don’t have to talk.  Just listen while I tell you a story,”  Ron said.  “A certain man had two sons.  The elders son was a good son.  He served his father faithfully and never disobeyed him in any way.  The younger son was different.  He didn’t want to stay and work for his father.  He wanted to see the world.  He asked his father for his share of the money his father would leave him so that he could go away and enjoy life.

“His father gave him the money, and the boy went to a far country where he wasted it in wild and foolish living.  When he had spent it all his so-called friends left him and he had to get a job feeding pigs.  One day he came to himself. ‘What am I doing here?’ he asked himself.  ‘I’ll go back to my father and tell him I’m sorry.  Maybe he’ll let me work as a servant.’

This book began on June 24.  You may want to go there to begin reading.

I suppose if Mom had said come home right away, I would have gone, but she only sighed and said goodbye.

“She doesn’t care if I come or not,” I said.  “Now that she’s got Janet to fuss over.”

“Sit down for a minute, Nina,” Mary Beth’s mother said. “We need to talk about the way you’re feeling about Janet coming home.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“All right.  Let’s talk about the lost sheep in the Bible.  There were ninety-nine sheep in the fold.  They were safe and well fed and they knew the shepherd cared for them.  Do you think they were angry when he left them to look for the one that was lost?”

“Sheep can’t think,” I muttered.

Mary Beth’s mother sighed, just like Mom had done.  “Did you know your brother is coming home today?  Don’t you want to go see him?”

I did want to see Ron.  I thought he might understand how I felt.  He knew how Janet had hurt the family.  He had been hurt, too.  Maybe we could get together and get Mom and Dad to send Janet away somewhere.  I wouldn’t go home to talk to Ron, but I thought he would come to see me.  I looked for him all morning, but it was afternoon before I saw him walking up the street.  I ran to meet him.

“Hi, little sister,” he said.  “You know, I think you get prettier every time I see you.  Janet’s home.  Don’t you want to come back with me and see her?”

“No,” I said.  “I don’t want her there.  I don’t think she has a right to come home and mess everything up again.”