Choosing Your Friends

When you choose your friends
On what it all depends

Is the character they possess
Don’t leave it to a guess

They’re not a pair of socks
With a color that rocks

For if that’s how you choose
Whether them to keep or lose

Then you are more than silly
And I mean come on, really

Their character counts in all
For a good one doesn’t fall

Like fair weather friends do
That you can’t depend on too

Each one of us God made
And our debts Christ paid

Their color is not the way
To decide what friends will stay

Because before you will know
All of the good ones will go

Leaving you a pair of socks
With no character that rocks!

Teresa Marie   5/23/11

If You Can’t Be Childish

There is no point at all
of being a grown up today
if I can’t answer a call
to go a minute and play

When I can’t be as childish
in my own individual way
and do it however I wish
just because of what you say

It’s truly all up to me
as to whether or not I may
regardless of what you see
as my immaturity on display

For with childish faith I do
through each and every day
what God does want me to
not as the world might convey

‘Cause it is not any crime
to be as a child I pray
if I want to go sometime
in my innocence and play!

 Teresa Marie   5/23/11

My Monday Thoughts – God Protected Us Again Last Night!

 

God is so, so very good to Mark and I!!  Thank You LORD, our Mighty God!!!  And thank you our Guardian Angels for your vigilance!  Once again You have protected us through the storms and straight line winds last night.

The wind started picking up as Mark called me to the dining room.  He said, “Those storms are coming in pretty quickly, look.”  As I looked out the window, I could see the wind whipping across the lawn.  Mark had walked into the kitchen to look out the window there that faces west and gazed at the sky.  I, “miss oblivious”, didn’t get too concerned and walked back into the living room and continued watching the movie that I was in the middle of.  Within 5 or 10 minutes at the most, the picture began to flicker a little bit and I said, “The satellite’s going to go out.”  Just then I heard the wind start to roar through.

I got back up and walked into the kitchen again where Mark was standing, still gazing out the window.  I asked, a little more concerned now, “What does the sky look like?”  He responded that it wasn’t too bad.  Both of us have been through enough tornado weather to know what the sky will look like when there is one in the area.  As I stared out the window with Mark, I saw that it was definitely ominous looking but only in a storm way and not with the greenish gray pallor of a tornado coming.

I said, “Oh Mark, look at my plant!”  My eldest daughter had gotten me a beautiful flowering plant for Mother’s Day that was hanging on the patio and it was slanted completely sideways from the wind.  I remarked, “It’s not going to survive, is it?”  He just shook his head saying, “Probably not.”  I was truly saddened and decided to not watch any more.

A few seconds later, now standing in the dining room again, Mark said, “Terri, I can’t even see the silos now!”  They are not very far from the house.  The rain was coming down pretty hard by now and it was slanted straight easterly.  He exclaimed, “Look at that car down there, he’s been pulled over for the last 10 minutes!”  My response was, “He’s probably scared to death.  You know that he can’t see a thing!”

Mark went into the computer/game room off of the living room and looked out that window.  It faces north.  When he did, he said, “Oh my God, Terri, that tree came down!  I don’t know how it missed the propane tank!!”  My response to that was this, “You know exactly how it missed it!”, and then I went upstairs into the extra bedroom which is also my computer room.  As I looked out that window at the tree I said, “Mark, come up here and look at it!”

We could not believe what we saw!  I immediately began to pray in the Spirit, thanking God for His protection of us.  After that first round of winds, we could see again for a little while.  What we witnessed was amazing!  The top half of the tree next to the house was snapped off in two pieces. The first and larger half had come down 6 inches from the propane tank.  If it had hit it full force, it could very well have exploded!  Mark commented on how unbelievable that was and then he saw something else.  He told me to look at it again, which I did and said, “Our Guardian Angels are good, aren’t they?!  They must have had their arms stretched out together and caught that tree as it was coming down!!”

Not only had it just missed the propane tank, it was laid down perfectly between the bushes that Mark had just planted last year!  Neither one of them was hit.  The other half was caught by the tree next to it.  If it had not been, it would have taken out the patio roof off of the kitchen and possible the edge of the house.

As I was looking out the upstairs window again, I yelled to Mark to come back up there and said, “Oh my God, look at the tree next to the dog pen!  God is so good to us that He even protected the dogs!!”  The very large tree next to their pen had been snapped of completely at the base leaving just a huge stump in the ground.  That tree also had been laid down with care.  It missed the pen and didn’t even come across the driveway.

I told Mark, “Did you thank God and our angels?  I’ve been doing it for the last 20 minutes!”  And I did it again this morning, especially after I saw the news on CNN about the tornado ripping through Joplin, MO!  Now I know why the wind was so bad here.  With tears in my eyes and a cup of coffee in my hand, I walked outside for the first time to survey the damage.  When I got to the propane tank, I started my thanks giving all over again.  I could not believe what I was seeing as I circled the house.  It truly, truly was a miracle!  Until later…

Always remember that Jesus died for us because He loves us!

With a grateful heart,
Teresa Marie

The Old Phone On The Wall

 

This e-mail was so touching that I had to share it:

THE OLD PHONE ON THE WALL.  

 
When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember 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 anyone’s number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-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 seemed no point 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 footstool 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 the icebox?” she asked.

  

I said I could.

 
“Then chip off a little bit 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, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. 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, ” Wayne , 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 in the now familiar voice. “How do I 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 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 a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so 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 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 said. 

“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.

  

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,”She said. “Sally had 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 Wayne ?”

 

Yes.” I answered. 

 

“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 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?

 

Lifting you on eagle’s wings.

May you find the joy and peace you long for.

 

 

Life is a journey… NOT a guided tour.

  

I loved this story and just had to pass it on.

I hope you enjoy it too.

 

 

Wasn’t that story great?  I loved it so much that I couldn’t resist putting it on here for you to read!

Teresa Marie