Eternal Lessons From Dad

Here are two of the most important things Michael Tait of dc Talk learned from his dad:

• Love people. “That’s what he taught,” says Tait says, “and that’s what he did. He cried with people, he laughed with people. Everybody was his friend. He couldn’t care less about your race, your nationality, your socioeconomic status, whatever. All he cared about was you, your soul.”

• Live for God. Tait sums up the lesson this way: “Don’t get caught up in the things of this world, because they’re just fleeting. The world will get the best of you if you let it, so live for God.”

Tait was visiting his parents in Washington, D.C., during the Christmas holidays in 1997 when his dad complained of stomach pains. Michael took him to the hospital, where doctors found cancer. Michael was present a few weeks later when his dad breathed his last. “The man was my hero,” Tait said.

 — Mark Moring, “My Dad, My Hero,” 
Campus Life (May – June 1999)

For All That He Has Done, I Choose To Give Him My Love

While helping her mother prepare for Christmas, a little girl asked about the meaning of this holiday.  The mother told her that Christmas was the time of the year we celebrate the birthday of Jesus, God's Son.  The little girl asked her mother why Jesus didn't get the presents if it was his birthday.  The mother explained the tradition of gift exchange as a way of showing love for one another and the matter was dropped at that.

On the evening before Christmas the little girl brought a gift-wrapped package from her room and placed it under the tree.  "What's in the box?" her mother asked.

"A gift for Jesus.  I am leaving it under the tree so he can open it tonight while I am asleep."

The mother did not want her daughter to be disappointed, so during the night she opened the package.  But there was nothing in it.  The next morning her daughter raced into the living room to see if her package had been opened.  It had!  She shouted to her mother, "Jesus opened his present last night!"

The mystified mother walked over to her daughter and asked what she had given Jesus.

The little girl explained, "I figure that Jesus has about everything he needs, and I can't give him much cuz I'm just a little girl.  But there is one thing I can give him.  So I decided to give him a BOX OF LOVE."

- submitted by Fred Lowery, The Pastor's Story File (December 1993)

It's Your Turn To Give

A mother was sick and tired of hearing her children always telling her what they wanted Santa to bring them.  On one such occasion she reminded them that Christmas is a time of giving and not receiving.

The children could tell that Mom really believed what sounded like absolute nonsense to them.  They secretly met and tried to figure out what was going through their mother's head.  They finally came to a conclusion as to what must be done.

They went to their mother in a very concerned manner.  The oldest child acted as the spokesperson: "Mom, we've been thinking about what you told us about how important it is to give at Christmas; with all of our talk about Santa, you must have felt left out.  We don't want you to feel this way, Mom.  So I'll tell you what we have decided to do.  Santa doesn't have to get us all the presents; if you want to get us some, too, we're going to let you!"

- Michael Hodgin, Parables, Etc. (December 1993)

Christmas Peace

Eighty years ago, on the first Christmas Day of World War I, British and German troops put down their guns and celebrated peacefully together in the no-man's land between the trenches.

The war, briefly, came to a halt.

In some places, festivities began when German troops lit candles on Christmas trees on their parapets so the British sentries a few hundred yards away could see them.

Elsewhere, the British acted first, starting bonfires and letting off rockets.

Pvt. Oswald Tilley of the London Rifle Brigade wrote to his parents: "Just you think that while you were eating your turkey, etc., I was out talking and shaking hands with the very men I had been trying to kill a few hours before!  It was astounding."

All along the line that Christmas Day, soldiers found their enemies were much like them and began asking why they should be trying to kill each other.

The generals were shocked.  High Command diaries and statements express anxiety that if that sort of  thing spread it could sap troops' will to fight.

Th soldiers in khaki and gray sang carols to each other, exchanged gifts of tobacco,  jam, sausage, chocolate and liquor, traded names and addresses and played soccer between the shell holes and barbed wire.  They even paid mutual trench visits.

This day is called "the most famous truce in military history" by British television producer Malcolm Brown and researcher Shirley Seaton in their book "Christmas Truce," published in 1984.

- "Enemies Kept Christmas Truce in Trenches 80 Years Ago," in the Elizabethton Star (December 25, 1994)

Home, Sweet Home

Ironically, John Howard Payne, composer of "Home, Sweet Home," virtually never had a home of his own.

Though he was born in New York City in June 1791, and passed much of his childhood in East Hampton, Long Island, Payne spent most of his years wandering about the world, homeless, and more often than not, penniless.  From the bankruptcy of his father while he was a student at Union College until Payne's death in Tunis, North Africa, where he served as American Consul, his fabulous career casts fiction in the shade.

As an actor, Payne made his debut in 1809 and for months was the rage of New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and then Dury Lane in London.  Later he become a playwright, with its in Paris and London.  But because he lacked business ability, many of his varying successes ended in failure.

In 1821 Payne was sent to debtor's prison in England, and was released only after he managed to slip through the guards and sell one of his plays.  It was with the profits from this play that he went gaily off to Paris to finish an opera little remembered today--but the music of which is still sung all over the civilized world.  That opera was Clari, and the hit tune was the ever-remembered "Home, Sweet Home."

Today, the old gray-singled homestead at East Hampton where Payne spent his boyhood is maintained by the village as a shrine for it was probably this lowly thatched cottage about which the composer wrote so wistfully while homesick in Paris.  To Americans everywhere--as it once was to John Howard Payne--this humble cottage is now cherished as "Home, Sweet Home."

- Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

Honoring My Mother

About the time he was in junior high, Dr. Benjamin Carson, now director of pediatric neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Children’s Center, Baltimore, Maryland, and author of several books, realized that his mother couldn’t read. For years, Ben and his brother had read books and scratched out reports for their mother, assuming their mom was checking every word. But she didn’t have a clue what they were writing.

Ben’s illiterate mom didn’t twist her hands over her lack of learning and give up hope of raising intelligent boys, however. Instead, she gave her boys what she had — interest, accountability, and the courage to demand extra work. And it paid off.

Years later, someone asked Ben why his mother still lived with him, even after he was married and had a family of his own. “You don’t understand,” Ben answered. “If it weren’t for that woman, I wouldn’t be living here. She earned this.”

 — Kevin Leman, What a Difference a Daddy Makes (Nelson, 2000)

Live Life With No Ifs

Famed pianist Artur Rubinstein, celebrating his 84^th birthday, said: 

"As long as we have what we have inside, the capacity to love, to work, to hear music, to see a flower, to look at the world as it is, nothing can stop us from being happy...but one thing you must take seriously. You must get rid of the ifs of life. Many people tell you, 'I would be happy - if I had a certain job, or if I were better looking, or if a certain person would marry me.' There isn't any such thing. You must live your life unconditionally, without the ifs."

- Bits & Pieces (April 30, 1992)

The Present Is Not For My Son's Future

In the May 28, 1998, edition of USA Today, the following appeared among the letters to the editor:

Will somebody help me save my son?

My son is two years old and is a reflection of complete innocence.  His vulnerability to this harsh, violent ignorant and uncaring world just rips my heart apart.  He knows nothing of the killing within the schools that are supposed to prepare children for the world.  He knows nothing of the abuse that happens within the homes of children just his age.  As he plays with his toys, he is oblivious to the tragedies that occur every day across the country.  And as he clutches his blanket, sleeping soundly, dreaming of the mommy and daddy who love him, he has no idea of the complete social and moral decay of our country.

Does anyone care anymore?  Will somebody please, please help me save my son?

- Edward Moats, Bellair Beach, Florida

- Letters to the editor in USA Today, (May 28, 1998)

I Just Can't Tell

The vicar, awarding prizes at the local dog show, was scandalized by costumes worn by some members of the younger fair sex.  "Look at that youngster," said he, "the one with the cropped hair, the cigarette, and breeches, holding two pops.  Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," said his companion.  "She's my daughter."

"My dear sir!"  The vicar was flustered.  "Do forgive me.  I would never have been so outspoken had I known you were her father."

"I'm not," said the other.  "I'm her mother."

- submitted by Calvin Habig, Parables, Etc. (August 1995) 

That's Assuming Everyone Can Hear

A violinist noticed that his playing had a hypnotic effect on his audiences. They sat motionless, as though they were in a trance. He found he had the same effect on his friends' pets. Dogs and cats would sit spellbound while he played.

Wondering if he could cast the same spell over wild beasts, he went to a jungle clearing in Africa, took out his violin and began to play. A lion, an elephant, and a gorilla charged into the clearing, stopped to listen, and sat mesmerized by the music. Soon the clearing was filled with every kind of ferocious animal, each one listening intently.

Suddenly another lion charged out of the jungle, pounced on the violinist, and killed him instantly. 

The first lion, bewildered, asked, "Why did you do that?" 

The second lion cupped his paw behind his ear. "What?"

- Bits and Pieces (July 1991)

Sounds Familiar

Ira Sankey was traveling on a steamer in the Delaware River when he was recognized by some passengers who had seen his picture in the newspaper and knew he was associated with evangelist D. L. Moody. 

When they asked him to sing one of his own compositions, Sankey said he preferred the hymn by William Bradbury, “Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us.”

He suggested that everyone join in the singing. One of the stanzas begins, “We are thine, do thou befriend us; be the guardian of our way.”

When he finished, a man stepped out of the shadows and asked, “Were you in the army, Mr. Sankey?”

“Yes, I joined up in 1860.”

“Did you do guard duty at night in Maryland, about 1862?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I was in the Confederate Army,” said the stranger. “I saw you one night at Sharpsburg. I had you in my gun sight as you stood in the light of the full moon. Then just as I was about to pull the trigger, you began to sing. It was the same hymn you sang tonight. I couldn’t shoot you.”

 — Kenneth R. Hendren, “In the Gun Sights, Men of Integrity (April 17, 2001)

How To Address This Group

A famous governor of New York once visited Sing Sing prison.  After being shown several of the buildings he was asked to speak to the inmates.  He was somewhat embarrassed and did not know exactly how to begin.  Finally he said, "My fellow citizens," ...but then he remembered that prisoners lose their citizenship.  Then he said, "My fellow convicts," ...but that didn't sound right either.  So at last he said, "Well, anyhow, I'm glad to see so many of you here!"

- Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

When You Don't Make Divorce An Option

Jill Briscoe, author, speaker, and pastor's wife, writes that one of the things her parents did right was to maintain their commitment to each other without ever considering divorce as an option.  She writes, "My sister and I knew that Mom and Dad enjoyed being married, would stay married, and hoped we'd do the same.  Differences they had were kept between them and worked out in the context of the promises they made to each other and to God on their wedding day.  There was no option out!  As someone has said, when the doors on a marriage are shut and bolted and a fire breaks out, all your time and energy goes to putting out the flames."

- Jill Briscoe, "A Foundation for Faith," What My Parents Did Right, comp. and ed. Gloria Gaither (StarSong Publishing Group, 1991)

I'm Sure My Dad's Singing Along

One of my fondest memories of Christmas Eve is singing “Angels We Have Heard on High” alongside my father when I was about nine years old. Dad was a shy man, so he normally would sing hymns very softly. On this night, though, he sang it full bore, off-key, and with the deepest yearning that I had ever heard in him. Dad was drunk that night.

He was a melancholic, battered man, a World War II army veteran who saw many of his friends blown to bits. He sought refuge in alcohol, which made life pretty frightening for Mom, my older brother, Randy, and me. But in church I saw the gentle Cajun who grew up Catholic and who still feared God.

Only a few years after this Christmas Eve Service, my brother became a Jesus freak. Dad began reading the Bible to help my brother realize how far he had stepped off the deep end into religious extremism. Within a year Dad realized that my brother had found a relationship with Jesus that Dad had not discovered. So Dad surrendered to Jesus.

Then his drinking simply stopped. He still struggled with anger. We still argued about the length of my hair, my failure to practice the piano, and my halfhearted efforts at homework. Still, I began associating Dad more with love than with fear.

I spent nearly every Christmas with Dad until his death in 1992. We sang “Angels We Have Heard on High” together many times, but somehow my keenest memory is of Dad singing it with such yearning. Now, when I sing this carol, I know a small measure of the yearning Dad felt when I was a boy. I close my eyes and imagine Dad in heaven, singing along at the top of his redeemed lungs, feeling drunk on his adoration for God.

 — Douglas LeBlanc, Chesterfield, Virginia

Preparation Is One Thing, Instinctive Reaction Is Another

Jeannette Bruce, a writer for Sports Illustrated and concerned about crime in New York, decided to take action--she began taking Judo and Karate lessons.  She learned all the kicks and moves and holds and punches until she qualified as an expert in both marial arts.  Now she felt safe walking down the street.  So when a purse snatcher tried to snatch her purse, she hit him over the head with her umbrella.

- Steve May, The Story File (Hendrickson Publishers, 2000)

The Extent Of Marriage

Sinclair Lewis once received a letter from a very young and very pretty woman who wished to become his secretary.  She said she could type, file, and anything else, and concluded, "When I say anything, I mean anything."  Lewis turned the letter over to his wife, Dorothy Thompson.  She wrote to the young woman saying, "Mr. Lewis already has an excellent secretary who can type and file.  I do everything else, and when I say everything, I mean everything."

- Alan Loy McGinnis, The Power of Optimism (HarperTorch, 1994)

This Is A Way To Help Themselves

Clarence Jordan, a philosopher-farmer in Americus, Georgia, was convinced that poor people living in dilapidated shacks could improve themselves with a little support. “They don’t need charity,” he said to Millard Fuller, who visited Jordan’s church community, Koinonia Farm. “They need a way to help themselves.”

Millard Fuller, thirty, who was nearly a millionaire, was inspired by Jordan to begin what today is a worldwide organization to provide housing for the poor. Habitat for Humanity runs on what he calls “the theology of the hammer.” The group raises money and recruits volunteers to renovate and build homes, which are sold at cost. Mortgages are interest free to qualified recipients. Habitat now builds or renovates twelve houses every day.

 — Ward Williams, 
“Jesus’ Vacation,” PreachingToday.com

That's Why She Has So Much Gray Hairs

A little girl sat on the bed pestering her mum with questions while mum was in a hurry to get changed and go out. Watching her mother looking in the mirror and plucking out the grey hairs on her head she asked, "Mummy, why do you have some grey hairs?"

Her mother replied, "Because you're such a naughty girl and cause me so much worry."

"Blimey!" said the little girl looking at all mummy's grey hairs. "You must have been a little devil towards Grandma!"

- Gordon Curley, sermoncentral.com

How To Break A Bad News

A young boy came into the house covered with mud after finishing a rough day at play.  "Mom," he shouted at the top of his voice, "if I fell out of a tree, would you rather I broke a leg or tore my pants?"

"What a silly question," his mother answered from the next room.  "I'd rather you tore your pants!"

"Well, I got good news for you then," the boy replied triumphantly.  "That's exactly what happened!"

- Charles F. Krieg, Parables, Etc. (July, 1996)

Preparing To Leave For A Better Place

When a former President of the United States was eighty years of age, an old friend shook his trembling hand and said, "Good morning, and how is John Quincy Adams today?"  The retired chief executive looked at him for a moment and then replied, "He himself is quite well, sir, quite well.  But the house in which he lives at the present is becoming dilapidated.  It is tottering upon its foundation.  Time and the seasons have almost destroyed it.  Its roof is pretty well worn, its walls are much shattered, and it crumbles a little bit with every wind.  The old tenement is becoming almost uninhabitable, and I think John Quincy Adams will have to move out of it soon; but he himself is well, sir, quite well!"  

It was not long afterward that he had his second and fatal stroke.

 -Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Kregel Publications, 1997)

Prison Sounds More Relaxing

Maria Brunner, of Poing, Germany, was willing to go to jail to get a break.

Brunner’s husband is unemployed, so she supports their three young children by cleaning other people’s houses. Even without a job, her husband managed to run up $5,000 worth of unpaid parking tickets. The husband kept the tickets a secret, but as the owner of the vehicle, Maria was responsible. She couldn’t pay the fine, and unless her husband could come up with the money, she would spend three months in jail.

She welcomed the thought. “I’ve had enough of scraping a living for the family,” she says. “As long as I get food and a hot shower every day, I don’t mind being sent to jail. I can finally get some rest and relaxation.”

Police reported that Maria repeatedly thanked them for arresting her.

 — “Family of the Week,” 
timesonline.co.uk (May 15, 2005)

The Name Does Not Make The Man

Take Edwin Thomas, for instance. Edwin Thomas Booth, that is. At age fifteen he debuted on the stage playing Tressel to his father’s Richard III. Within a few short years he was playing the lead in Shakespearean tragedies throughout the United States and Europe. He was the Olivier of his time. He brought a spirit of tragedy that put him in a class by himself.

Edwin had a younger brother, John, who was also an actor. Although he could not compare with his older brother, he did give a memorable interpretation of Brutus in the 1863 production of Julius Caesar, by the New York Winter Garden Theater. Two years later, he performed his last role in a theater when he jumped from the box of a bloodied President Lincoln to the stage of Ford’s Theater. John Wilkes Booth met the end he deserved. But his murderous life placed a stigma over the life of his brother Edwin.

An invisible asterisk now stood beside his name in the minds of the people. He was no longer Edwin Booth the consummate tragedian, but Edwin Booth the brother of the assassin. He retired from the stage to ponder the question why? 

Edwin Booth’s life was a tragic accident simply because of his last name. The sensationalists wouldn’t let him separate himself from the crime.

It is interesting to note that he carried a letter with him that could have vindicated him from the sibling attachment to John Wilkes Booth. It was a letter from General Adams Budeau, Chief Secretary to General Ulysses S. Grant, thanking him for a singular act of bravery. It seems that while he was waiting for a train on the platform at Jersey City, a coach he was about to board bolted forward. He turned in time to see that a young boy had slipped from the edge of the pressing crowd into the path of the oncoming train. Without thinking, Edwin raced to the edge of the platform and, linking his leg around a railing, grabbed the boy by the collar. The grateful boy recognized him, but he didn’t recognize the boy. It wasn’t until he received the letter of thanks that he learned it was Robert Todd Lincoln, the son of his brother’s future victim. 

Tim Kimmel, Little House on the Freeway (Multnomah Books, 2008)

Glad To Have Helped

In 1999, Kevin Stephan of Lancaster, New York, was a batboy for his younger brother’s Little League baseball team. During one game, a player who was warming up accidentally hit Kevin in the chest with a bat. Kevin fell to the ground, unconscious. His heart stopped beating.

“All I remember is that, all of a sudden, I got hit in the chest with something, and I turned around and passed out,” Kevin says. Penny Brown, a nurse whose son played on the team, was able to revive Kevin.

Seven years later, Penny Brown was eating at the Hillview Restaurant in Depew, New York, when she began to choke on her food. “The food wasn’t going anywhere, and I totally couldn’t breathe,” said Penny. “It was very frightening.”

Patrons screamed for help. One of the restaurant employees — a volunteer firefighter — ran out from the back. He wrapped his arms around the victim, applied the Heimlich maneuver, and saved the woman’s life. The firefighter was Kevin Stephan, the boy whom Penny had saved seven years earlier.

 — Aaron Saykin, “Teen Saves Life 
of Woman Who Once Saved His,” 
wusatv9.com (February 4, 2006)

Don't Believe Everything You Hear

Winston Churchill exemplified integrity and respect in the face of opposition.

During his last year in office, he attended an official ceremony. Several rows behind him two gentlemen began whispering. "That's Winston Churchill." "They say he is getting senile." "They say he should step aside and leave the running of the nation to more dynamic and capable men."

When the ceremony was over, Churchill turned to the men and said, "Gentlemen, they also say he is deaf!"

- Barbara Hatcher, Vital Speeches (May 1, 1987)

Can't Afford To Forget

"On a business trip in California, I realized that I had forgotten my wife's birthday.  Assuming I was in big trouble, I went to the jewelry section of a San Francisco department store.  After explaining to the saleswoman that I desperately needed a gift to make up for my forgetfulness, she quipped, 'I'm sorry, but we don't have anything that expensive.'"

- Edwin L. Ray, Reader's Digest, quoted in The Story File (Hendrickson Publishers, 2000)

Fat And Pretty

The little boy loved his mother and loved to sit on her lap.  One day the boy was sitting on his mother's lap while she was reading a book to him.  After she finished the book, he cuddled up close to her and said, "I love you, Mommy!"

His mother was grateful for his love but mistakenly questioned the worth of its object.  She asked, "How can you love a mother who is so fat and ugly?"

The son quickly protested, "Oh, Mommy, you are not!  You're fat and pretty!"

- Parables, Etc. (March 1996)

A Meaningful Life Despite An Injury

Dennis Byrd was an up-and-coming defensive superstar for the New York Jets, who was expected to help turn the Jets around. But on November 29, 1992, when the Jets were playing the Chiefs, Byrd was about to sack the quarterback when he collided with a teammate. His spinal cord snapped.

He awoke in the middle of the night at Lenox Hospital in a halo brace, not knowing where he was, why he couldn’t move, and what was happening. Suddenly, he went from dreaming of making it to the Pro Bowl to hoping that someday he could once more hold his daughter in his arms.

From a worldly perspective, Byrd was no longer able to reach his potential. But in God’s eyes, Byrd was capable of more than sacking quarterbacks. As the world watched and listened, Byrd told the media that Christ was his source of comfort in his time of tragedy. The doctors said Byrd would likely never walk again, but Byrd said that with God’s help, he would.

On opening day of the 1993 football season, less than a year after his spinal-cord injury, Byrd walked to the middle of the Meadowlands Stadium while 75,000 fans cheered. The miracle in Byrd’s life is not that he broke his neck and walked again. The miracle is that the injury that destroyed his career didn’t destroy his life.

 — Steve May, Sermonnotes.com

What Giving Thanks Can Bring

During the Depression, William Stidger was in a restaurant with friends who were all talking about how terrible things were: suffering people, rich people committing suicide, joblessness. The conversation got more miserable as it went on.

A minister in the group interrupted. “In two or three weeks I have to preach a sermon on Thanksgiving Day,” he said. “What can I say that’s affirmative in a period of world depression like this?”

Stidger felt the Spirit of God saying to him, “Why don’t you give thanks to those people who have been a blessing in your life and affirm them during this terrible time?”

He began to think about that. He remembered a schoolteacher who was very dear to him, a wonderful teacher of poetry and English literature who had gone out of her way to put a great love of literature and verse in him, which has affected all his writings and his preaching. So he sat down and wrote a letter to this woman, now up in years. It was only a matter of days until he got a reply in the feeble scrawl of the aged:

My dear Willy,
I can’t tell you how much your note meant to me. I am in my 80s, living alone in a small room, cooking my own meals, lonely, and like the last leaf of autumn lingering behind. You’ll be interested to know that I taught in school for more than fifty years, and yours is the first note of appreciation I ever received. It came on a blue, cold morning, and it cheered me as nothing has done in many years.

“I’m not sentimental, but I found myself weeping over that note,” Stidger said. Then he thought of a kind bishop, now retired, who had recently faced the death of his wife and was all alone. This bishop had taken a lot of time giving Stidger advice and counsel and love when he first began his ministry. So he sat down and wrote the old bishop. In two days a reply came back.

My dear Will,
Your letter was so beautiful, so real, that as I sat reading it in my study, tears of gratitude fell from my eyes. Before I realized what I was doing, I rose from my chair and I called my wife’s name to share it with her, forgetting she was gone. You’ll never know how much your letter has warmed my spirit. I have been walking around in the glow of your letter all day long.

 — David A. Seamands, “Instruction for Thanksgiving,” Preaching Today Audio, no. 62

Longing For The Everyday Boring Scene

Greta Weissman was among the prisoners in a Nazi death camp.  She recalled an episode one spring when she and her fellow inmates stood at roll call for hours on end, nearly collapsing with hunger and fatigue.  But they noticed in the corner of that bleak, horrid, gray place that the concrete had broken and a flower had poke its head through.  And the thousands of women there took great pains to avoid stepping on it.  It was the only spot of beauty in their ugly and heinous world, and they were thankful for it.

Later in a radio interview, she added: "When people ask me, 'Why did you go on?' there is only one picture that comes to mind.  The moment was when once I stood at the window of the first camp I was in and asked myself if, by some miraculous power, one wish could be granted me, what would it be?  And then, with almost crystal clarity, the picture that came to my mind was a picture at home--my father smoking his pipe, my mother working at her needlepoint, my brother and I doing our homework.  And I remember thinking, my goodness, it was just a boring evening at home.  I had known countless evenings like that.  And I knew that this picture would be, if I could help it, the driving force of my survival."

- Dr. Julius Segal, Winning Life's Toughest Battles (Ivy Books, 1896)

Anyone Can Be Generous

"NBC Nightly News" carried the story of the retirement of an unusual volunteer at Pittsburg Children's Hospital. His name is Albert Lexie. Lexie shined shoes there two days a week, but there is a lot more to the story. Lexie had been shining the shoes since 1981. He only charged $5, but said anything more than that amount was given to a free care fund at the hospital for people who can't pay their bills. His first year, Albert donated $750. That rose to more than $11,000 in 2012. In all, he donated more than $200,000. Albert served in a humble way, using his particular gift, which reaped great rewards for others. On the day of his retirement, there were news cameras, applause and many tears.

- The Daily Nightly (December 18, 2013)

Short Cuts Lead To Trouble

Bob Harris, weatherman for NY TV station WPIX-TV and the nationally syndicated independent Network news, had to weather a public storm of his own making in 1979. Though he had studied math, physics and geology at three colleges, he left school without a degree but with a strong desire to be a media weatherman.

He phoned WCBS-TV, introducing himself as a Ph.D. in geophysics from Columbia U. The phony degree got him in the door. After a two-month tryout, he was hired as an off-camera forecaster for WCBS. For the next decade his career flourished. He became widely known as "Dr. Bob." He was also hired by the New York Times as a consulting meteorologist. The same year both the Long Island Railroad and then Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn hired him. Forty years of age and living his childhood dream, he found himself in public disgrace and national humiliation when an anonymous letter prompted WCBS management to investigate his academic credentials. Both the station and the New York Times fire him.

His story got attention across the land. He was on the Today Show, the Tomorrow Show, and in People Weekly, among others. He thought he'd lose his home and never work in the media again. Several days later the Long Island Railroad and Bowie Kuhn announced they would not fire him. Then WNEW-TV gave him a job. He admits it was a dreadful mistake on his part and doubtless played a role in his divorce. "I took a shortcut that turned out to be the long way around, and one day the bill came due. I will be sorry as long as I am alive."

- Nancy Shulins, Journal News, Nyack, NY

I'm Not Learning How To Quit

Somewhere I read the story of a young boy trying to learn to ice-skate.  He had fallen so many times that his face was cut, and the blood and tears ran together.

Someone, out of sympathy, skated over to the boy, picked him up, and said, "Son, why don't you quit?  You are going to kill yourself!"

The boy brushed the tears from his eyes and said, "I didn't buy these skates to learn how to quit; I bought them to learn how to skate."

- submitted by Malcom McPhail, Parables, Etc. (April 1992)

Being Versus Doing President

In the spring of 1970, when I was twenty-nine, I learned I had won a fellowship from the American Council on Education, which would allow me to serve an administrative internship with Purdue University President Fred Hovde for the 1970 – 71 academic year. I was elated by the opportunity. Despite having only recently been awarded tenure and promoted to associate professor of electrical engineering at Purdue, I was already leaning toward a career in administration. . . .

Soon after the award was announced, I happened to bump into a colleague, Vern Newhouse, who was a highly respected senior member of the electrical engineering faculty. “So, Sample,” Newhouse said to me, “I see you’ve won some sort of administrative fellowship in the president’s office.”

“Yes, that’s true,” I said.

“And you’ll be learning how to become an administrator?”

“I suppose so.”

“And then you’ll probably want to be president of a university somewhere down the road?”

“Well, I don’t know. I guess I’ve thought about it now and then,” I said, somewhat disingenuously.

He smiled and said, “Personally, I’ve never had any ambition whatsoever to be an administrator. I am totally inept at managing things. . . . But I’ve been a careful observer of ambitious men all my life. And here, for what it’s worth, is what I’ve learned: many men want to be president, but very few want to do president.” And with that he wished me well and walked away.

 — Steve Sample, The Contrarian’s Guide 
to Leadership (Jossey-Bass, 2002)

Comfort In Writing

ABC News reported on April 14,1999, about a new study that found that patients with arthritis or asthma often got better writing about terrible experiences in their lives such as a car wreck or the death of a loved one.  A group of 112 patients spent a total of just one hour writing.  Four months later, nearly half of those who wrote about stressful events had improved significantly.

The study is believed to be the first to examine how writing about stressful events affects specific illnesses.  It was conducted at the State University of New York at Stony Brook and published in The Journal of the American Medical Association, and it reinforces similar studies that have shown the health benefits for healthy people who wrote about stressful events.

- abcnews.go.com

Crime Pays... Embarrassingly

Carlos Carrasco, twenty-four, was sentenced to ten year's probation in San Antonio for a bungled burglary of a liquor store.  According to records, Carrasco cut his hand badly when he broke through the store's roof; he tried to throw a bottle of whiskey out through the hole he had created but missed, causing the bottle to fall back to the floor, shatter, and set off a burglar alarm; he fell on the broken bottle, cutting himself again; he left his wallet in the store; once on the roof for his getaway, he fell off; and he left a trail of blood from the store to his home down the street.

- Parables, Etc. (October, 1993)

Give Me Back My Troubles!

A dozen discounted figures in a community once visited a wise man, clamorning to tell their problems.

"Write your biggest problem down on a piece of paper," said the wise man, "and six of you stand here to my right and six to my left. Now exchange papers and you will have new trouble to fret about."

The malcontents complies.  Within a minute, all were clamoring to have their own troubles back!

- Bits & Pieces (The Economics Press, Inc. 1996)

Incompatibility? Really???

On his April 2, 1979 radio broadcast, Paul Harvey, amazement in his voice, reported that Romeo Bitencourt of Porto Alegre, Brazil, had just been granted a divorce.

Romeo was a Brazilian farmer.

He was ninety years old, had been married sixty-five years, had twelve children, fifty grandchildren, and thirty-six great-grandchildren.

The reason given for the divorce?

"Incompatibility."

- quoted by Robert J. Morgan, Preacher's Sourcebook of Creative Sermon Illustrations (Thomas Nelson, 2007)

Individual Attention Needed

When I left for college, my mother — who had always done my laundry — made a canvas duffel bag for me. “Put your dirty clothes in this every night,” she said. “At the end of the week, wash them at the Laundromat.”

Seven days later, I took my dirty clothes to the Laundromat. To save time, I threw the duffel bag in the washer, put in some laundry powder, inserted the proper change, and turned on the machine.  Moments later, a loud thump, thump, thump, thump echoed through the Laundromat. A pretty coed approached me with a grin. “I watched you load your washer. I think the clothes would get cleaner if you took them out of the bag.”

 — Roger Barrier, Listening to the 
Voice of God (Bethany, 1998)

What Accident?

Friends of George Burns have always kidded him about his singing. Burns, a master of self-deprecating humor, decided to take advantage of this and insure his voice for a million dollars. He thought it would be a wonderful publicity stunt.

"I was so excited," said Burns, "I couldn't wait to rush down to the insurance company. I took a cassette and a tape recorder with me so the insurance man could hear my voice. It was one of my best numbers -- a syncopated version of Yankee Doodle Blues with a yodeling finish. The insurance man listened patiently to the whole thing, then he just looked at me and said, 'Mr. Burns, you should have come to us before you had the accident.'"

- Bits & Pieces (March 3, 1994)

Move, Why Don't Ya?

In 1937 architect Frank Lloyd Wright built a house for industrialist Hibbard Johnson. One rainy evening Johnson was entertaining distinguished guests for dinner when the roof began to leak. The water seeped through directly above Johnson himself, dripping steadily onto his bald head. Irate, he called Wright in Phoenix, Arizona. “Frank,” he said, “you built this beautiful house for me and we enjoy it very much. But I have told you the roof leaks, and right now I am with some friends and distinguished guests and it is leaking right on top of my head.”

Wright’s reply was heard by all of the guests. “Well, Hib, why don’t you move your chair?”

- Today in the Word, Moody Bible Institute (Jan, 1992)

Giving Others A Push

Jean Nidetch, a 214 pound homemaker desperate to lose weight, went to the New York City Department of Health, where she was given a diet devised by Dr. Norman Jolliffe.

Two months later, discouraged about the 50 plus pounds still to go, she invited six overweight friends home to share the diet and talk about how to stay on it. Today, 28 years later, one million members attend 25,0000 Weight Watchers meetings in 24 countries every week. Why was Nidetch able to help people take control of their lives? 

To answer that, she tells a story. When she was a teen-ager, she used to cross a park where she saw mothers gossiping while the toddlers sat on their swings, with no one to push them. "I’d give them a push," says Nidetch. "And you know what happens when you push a kid on a swing? Pretty soon he’s pumping, doing it himself. That’s what my role in life is--I’m there to give others a push." 

- shared by SermonCentral.com

Inadequate Communication

A patient complained of an earache.  His right ear.  So his doctor prescribed him eardrops--antibiotic. The doctor prescribed eardrops for an earache.  

When the patient got the eardrops prescription filled the pharmacist wrote on the bottle... Three drops in r--for right--ear.  No space and no punctuation.  For "right ear," the instructions on the bottle read: r--ear.

That spells rear.

The patient said later he knew it sounded like a strange remedy for an earache but he had dutifully applied the three drops to his rear for three days before the error was discovered.

- reported by Paul Harvey on his radio broadcast on January 15, 1982; story was confirmed by the American Medical News

It's Difficult To Find Anything When You're Drunk

The defense attorney for a drunk driver was asking all the right questions. The arresting officer had testified that the defendant, when asked to produce his car registration, had fumbled around endlessly in the glove compartment.

“But it was dark, was it not?” asked the lawyer.

“Yes,” said the policeman.

“Was the glove compartment cluttered?”

“Yes.”

“How long did he fumble around there?”

“Maybe five minutes,” responded the officer.

“Well,” continued the attorney, “do you find it unusual that a man would take his time looking in a dark and cluttered glove compartment for a small piece of paper?”

“Yes,” replied the officer. “He was sitting in my patrol car at the time.”

- Dan Rodricks in Baltimore, Sunday Sun Magazine, quoted in Reader’s Digest, October 1982

He Died For Me

Planting flowers on a recent grave in a little cemetery in the far West, a young man seemed overcome with emotion. A stranger passing, thought to comfort him by speaking a kind word, and as he drew near he observed a small cross at the top of the grave on which the words, "He died for me" were inscribed.

The story briefly told was that during the war, this young man, who was an only son was called to the front. His parents were well-nigh frantic with grief. A cousin, who was an orphan, volunteered to take his place, and in the first battle was slain. That young man lived because his substitute died, and he loved to confess it.

- John Ritchie, 500 Gospel Sermon Illustrations (Kregel Publications, 1987)

Not So Important To Make Others Feel Important

Queen Victoria once shared her impressions of her two most famous prime ministers.  Of William Gladstone, she said, "When I am with him, I feel I am with one of the most important leaders in the world."

On the other hand, she confessed that when she was with Disraeli, he made her feel "as if I am one of the most important leaders of the world."

- Haddon Robinson, "On Target," Focal Point, quoting from David Smith, The Friendless American Male

Nothing To Be Afraid Of

Some years ago I was standing before the cage of a wildcat in the zoo of one of our large cities.  As I stood there wondering just what good purpose a wildcat might serve, an attendant entered the cage through a door on the opposite side.  He had nothing in his hands but a broom.  Carefully closing the door, he proceeded to sweep the floor of the cage.

The shivers went down my spine as I saw him in there alone with that wildcat.  So far as I could tell he had no weapon with which to protect himself in case of attack.  But he seemed not to be afraid in the least and went about his work.

In spite of his composure, I supposed that when he got to where the cat lay he would treat him with the utmost respect, but nothing of the kind.  When he got near the beast, he gave him a shove with the broom to make him get out of the way.  The wildcat made no response except a disapproving hiss, after which he lay down in another corner of the cage.

"You certainly are a brave man," I said to the attendant.

"No, I ain't brave," the man answered, continuing to sweep.

"Well then," said I, "that cat must be tame."

"No," he answered again, "he ain't tame."

"Well," I said again, "if you are not brave and that cat in not tame then I cannot understand why he does not attack you."

The man chuckled.  "Mister," he said, "he's old--and he ain't got no teeth."

- Carl Armerding, quoted in The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

Participating In Suffering

Today I visited a little girl dying of cancer. Her body was disfigured by her disease and its treatment. She was in constant pain. As I entered her room, I was overcome by her suffering, which seemed unjust, unfair, unreasonable. Even more overpowering was the presence of her grandmother lying in bed beside her with her huge body embracing this precious eight-year-old.

I stood in awe, knowing I was on holy ground. I will never forget the great, gentle arms of this grandmother. She never spoke but simply held her granddaughter, participating in suffering that she could not relieve. No words could express the magnitude of her love.

 — Leonard Sweet, Postmodern Pilgrims 
(Broadman & Holman, 2000)

The Ancient Art Of Conversation

In 1997, the Washington Capitals were hot, skating their way into the Stanley Cup finals. By the fall of 1999, they had slipped to one of the worst records in the NHL. Coach Ron Wilson decided drastic measures were necessary and quickly changed their strategy. Yet injuries abounded, and the losses mounted. The team was skating on thin ice and couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Just before Christmas, the team embarked on a late-night, seven-hour flight from Vancouver and did what they typically do on a flight of that duration: they popped in a video to pass the time. Then the VCR froze.

As the plane winged its way through the evening sky, one by one the players started talking with each other. They talked strategy. Obstacles. Key plays. Out of necessity, they rediscovered the ancient art of conversation. By the time the plane touched down, the Capitals had picked apart their game and knew what needed to be done.

In the weeks that followed, they became virtually unstoppable, going on an eleven-game winning streak. Team goaltender Olaf Kolzig reflected, “Maybe it was fate the VCR didn’t work. It gave us a chance to just roam about the plane and talk with guys. It was a good way to clear the air.” Indeed. They went 12 – 2 – 3 after the busted VCR incident.

 — Bob De Moss, Plugged In 
radio broadcast (April 4, 2001)

Too Much Criticism, Too Little Gratitude

I was helping a friend plant a tree at the local park. She had planted twenty-three trees already, most of them without any help. The trees were donated by family members in remembrance of loved ones. While we were working, a woman approached us. I recognized her and assumed she was there to say thank you.

“Remember the tree you planted for me the other day?” she asked.

My friend nodded.

“You planted it too close to the road. It needs to be moved.” Then she turned and left.

I don’t think this woman was intentionally rude. She was probably distracted, or maybe she’d had a bad day, but, still — of the twenty-three trees my friend planted, only two people remembered to say, “Thank you.”

 — Teresa Bell Kindred, 
Kentucky Living (October 2000)

Why Is Daddy Afraid Too?

One summer night during a severe thunderstorm, a mother was tucking her small son into bed.  She was about to turn the light off when he asked in a trembling voice, "Mommy, will you stay with me all night?"  Smiling, the mother gave him a warm, reassuring hug and said tenderly, "I can't, dear.  I have to sleep in Daddy's room."

A long silence followed.  At last, it was broken by a shaky voice saying, "The big sissy!"

- Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

The Portion Entrusted To Me

Executive Bob Shank once wrote:
Most everything I needed to know in life I learned in high school football.  My team was a melting pot of ethnic flavors, coached by a similarly broad mix of committed men.  My mentor was a 6'5", 260-pound persuader named Manny Penaflor.

As the giant on the defensive line (I weighed in at 172 pounds, minus gear), Manny would often start with me when demonstrating a point.  One day as we lined up for scrimmage, Manny decided to capture a teaching opportunity.  He had a peculiar way of seizing our attention--he grabbed your face mask and pulled you up real close, so you wouldn't miss a single word.

On this particular day, he grabbed my face mask and yelled in his distinctive accent, "Chank, you're a defensive tackle, not the whole team.  I don't want you playing the whole field.  Here's your job."

He let me go and used his foot to scratch a ten-foot square around my spot on the line.  "Chank, you see this square?"  I couldn't miss it.  "This square is yours.  Anybody from the other team who comes into this square, it's your job to put them on their butt.  You got that?"

When he was convinced I understood my assignment, he moved to the middle guard, Ernie Norton, and went through the same theatrics.  Property rights were assigned in 100-square-foot increments to five linemen and two linebckers.  None of us could ever say we didn't know what was expected of us.  We knew our personal responsibilities.

I think of Manny often when I tense up over what needs to be done on a global scale.  I have a tendency to become frustrated, then fatalistic, because I can't get my arms around all there is to do.  It's at those moments that I need to remember I'm not assigned the whole planet.  I've only been entrusted with a particular slice of it.  This is the portion of the   world for which God will one day hold me accountable.

- Bob Shank, Total Life Management (Multnomah Press, 1990)

Relearning A Boy's Way

A father became upset about the time his six-year-old son took to get home from school.  He determined to make the trip himself to see how long it should take to cover that distance.  He concluded that twenty minutes maximum was enough, but his son was taking well over an hour.

Finally the father decided to walk with his son.  After that trip the man said, "The twenty minutes I thought reasonable was right, but I failed to consider such important things as a side trip to track down a trail of ants. . . or a stop to watch a man fix a flat. . . or the time it took to swing around a half-dozen telephone poles. . . or how much time it took for a boy just to get acquainted with two stray dogs.

"In short, I had forgotten what it is like to be six years old."

- submitted by Don E. McKenzie, Parables, Etc. (October 1993)

Praising Even At Their Bleakest

One winter I sat in army fatigues somewhere near Anniston, Alabama, eating my supper out of a mess kit. The infantry training battalion that I had been assigned to was on bivouac. There was a cold drizzle of rain, and everything was mud. The sun had gone down.

I was still hungry when I finished and noticed that a man nearby had left something that he was not going to eat. It was a turnip. When I asked him if I could have it, he tossed it over to me. I missed the catch, and the turnip fell to the ground, but I wanted it so badly that I picked it up and started eating it, mud and all.

Time deepened and slowed down. With a lurch of the heart, I saw suddenly that not only was the turnip good, but the mud was good too, even the drizzle and cold were good, even the Army that I had dreaded for months was good.

Sitting there in the Alabama winter with my mouth full of cold turnip and mud, I could see at least for a moment how if you ever took truly to heart the ultimate goodness and joy of things, even at their bleakest, the need to praise someone or something for it would be so great that you might even have to go out and speak of it to the birds of the air.

 — Frederick Buechner, 
The Sacred Journey (HarperOne, 1991)

He Naturally Knows Where He Is

The floor of the Princeton gym was being resurfaced, so Princeton basketball player (and later United States senator) Bill Bradley had to practice at Lawrenceville School. His first afternoon at Lawrenceville, he began by shooting fourteen-foot jump shots from the right side. He got off to a bad start, and he kept missing them. Six in a row hit the back rim of the basket and bounced out.

He stopped and seemed to make an adjustment in his mind. Then he went up for another jump shot from the same spot and hit it cleanly. Four more shots went in without a miss.  Then he paused and said, “You want to know something? That basket is about an inch and a half low.”

Some weeks later, I went back to Lawrenceville with a steel tape measure. I borrowed a stepladder and measured the height of the basket. It was nine feet, ten and seven-eighths inches above the floor, or one and one-eighth inches too low.

 — John McPhee, A Sense of Where You Are (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1965)

Brothers In Arms

Jim McNulty is a detective constable in Scotland.  He went online one day to report that a London officer had been killed in the line of duty and two others injured.  On reading this, comrades from other countries wondered why bulletproof vests hadn't worked.  McNulty explained that the government doesn't provide vests for police officers in Great Britain. 

Las Vegas Police Lt. Dennis Cobb immediately responded via email offering his spare vest.  Within days McNulty was deluged with messages from police all over United States and Canada offering their vests, which were due for replacement but still effective.  A few weeks later, an initial shipment of 30 vests was transported free of charge to London's Heathrow.  Since news of the program broke, thousands more vests have been sent to Britain.

McNulty said, "All the officers here are absolutely astounded at the lengths their fellow officers in the United States have gone to for them."

- Michele D. Kinnamon, CompuServe Magazine