Real friends

November 27th, 2007

FAKE FRIENDS: Never ask for food.
REAL FRIENDS: is the reason you have no food.

FAKE FRIENDS: Call your parents Mr / Mrs
REAL FRIENDS: Call your parents DAD/MOM

FAKE FRIENDS: bail you out of jail and tell you what you did was wrong
REAL FRIENDS: Would sit next to you saying ‘Dawg … we screwed up… but that was fun!’

FAKE FRIENDS: never seen you cry
REAL FRIENDS: cry with you

FAKE FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back
REAL FRIENDS: keep your stuff so long they forget it’s yours

FAKE FRIENDS: know a few things about you
REAL FRIENDS: Could write a book about you with direct quotes from you

FAKE FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing
REAL FRIENDS: Will kick the whole crowds butt that left you

FAKE FRIENDS: Would knock on your front door
REAL FRIENDS: Walk right in and say ‘I’M HOME!’

FAKE FRIENDS: Are for awhile
REAL FRIENDS: Are for life

FAKE FRIENDS: will talk bad to the person who talks bad about you.
REAL FRIENDS: Will knock the person out that talked bad about you

FAKE FRIENDS: Would ignore this
REAL FRIENDS: Will send this to all their real friends and hope to get it back!

The Room – (incredible read…)

November 27th, 2007

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.  The subject was what Heaven was like.  “I wowed ‘em,” he later told his father, Bruce.  “It’s a killer.  It’s the bomb.  It’s the best thing I ever wrote.”

It also was the last.  Brian’s parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager’s locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them – notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen’s life.

But it was only after Brian’s death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.  It makes such an impact that people want to share it.  You feel like you are there.” Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend’s house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole.  He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian’s essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.  “I think God used him to make a point.

I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,” Mrs. Moore said of the essay.  She and her husband want to share their son’s vision of life after death.  “I’m happy for Brian.  I know he’s in heaven. I know I’ll see him.

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An angel walked the beat tonight – on Highway 109

November 27th, 2007

A drunk man in an Oldsmobile, they said had run the light,
That caused the six-car pileup on 109 that night.
When broken bodies lay about and blood was everywhere,
The sirens screamed out eulogies, for death was in the air.

A mother, trapped inside her car, was heard above the noise;
Her plaintive plea near split the air: “Oh, God, please spare my boys!”
She fought to loose her pinned hands; She struggled to get free,
But mangled metal held her fast, in grim captivity.

Her frightened eyes then focused on where the back seat once had been,
But all she saw was broken glass and two children’s seats crushed in.
Her twins were nowhere to be seen; She did not hear them cry,
And then she prayed they’d been thrown free, “Oh, God, don’t let them die!”

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Questions to ponder about friendship

November 27th, 2007

Have you ever wondered which hurts the most?

Saying something and wishing you hadn’t, or saying nothing and wishing you had?
I guess the most important things are the hardest things to say.
Don’t be afraid to tell someone you love them.
If you do, they might break your heart…if you don’t, you might break theirs.

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Old age is a gift

November 27th, 2007

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don’t agonize over those things for long.

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