God, there's one thing
I wish that you could do
Hope you don't mind me asking
But please bless my computer too?

Now I know that's not normal
To bless a mother board
But just listen a second
While I explain to you 'My Lord'

You see, that little metal box
Holds more to me than odds & ends
Inside those small compartments
Rest a hundred of my 'BEST FRIENDS'Some it's true I've never seen
And most I've never meet
We've never exchanged hugs
Or shared a meal as yet....

I know for sure they like me
By the kindness that they give
And this little scrap of metal
Is how I travel to where they live

By faith is how I know them
Much the same as you
I share in what life brings them
From that our friendship grew

   ''PLEASE" Take an extra minute
From your duties up above
To bless this scrap of metal
That's filled with so much love!

A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar.
 He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down

when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared.
Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot
where the brick had been thrown.
The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against
a parked car shouting, 'What was that all about and who are you?
Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money.
Why did you do it?' The young boy was apologetic. 'Please, mister...please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do,
'He pleaded. 'I threw the brick because no one else would stop...' With tears dripping down his face and off his chin,
he youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. 'It's my brother,
'he said 'He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up.'

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, 'Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair?
He's hurt and he's too heavy for me.'
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat.
He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair,
then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts.
A quick look told him everything was going to be okay. 'Thank you and may God bless you,'
the grateful child told the stranger. Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy!
push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.

It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message:

 'Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!' God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice to listen or not.

Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have.
Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone.
It isn't about who you're dating, who you used to date,
how many people you've dated,
or if you haven't been with anyone at all.
It isn't about who you have kissed, it's not about sex.
It isn't about who your family is or how much money they have.
Or what kind of car you drive.
Or where you went to school.
It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are.
Or what clothes you wear, what shoes you have on,
or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown.
Or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get, how smart you are,
how smart everybody else thinks you are,
or how smart standardized tests say you are.
It's not about what clubs you're in or how good you are at "your" sport.
It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper
and seeing who will "accept the written you."
But, life is about who you love and who you hurt.
It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully.
It's about keeping or betraying trust.
It's about friendship, used as a sanctity or a weapon.
It's about what you mean and say, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening.
About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip.
It's about what judgments you pass and why.
And who your judgments are spread to.
It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention.
It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge.
It's about carrying inner hate or love, letting it grow, and spreading it.
But most of all, it's about using your life to touch or poison other people's
hearts in such a way that could have never occurred alone.

Whatever our hands touch---
We leave fingerprints!
On walls, on furniture,
On doorknobs, dishes, books,
As we touch we leave our identity.

Oh please where ever I go today,
Help me leave heart prints!
Heart prints of compassion
Of understanding and love.
Heart prints of kindness
and genuine concern.

May my heart touch a lonely neighbor
Or a runaway daughter,
Or an anxious mother,
Or, perhaps, a dear friend!

I shall go out today
To leave heart prints,
And if someone should say
"I felt your touch,"
May that one sense be...

YOUR  LOVE

Touching through

 ME

Resentment creates a heavy heart and fuzzy thinking for the one carrying it. It can result in obsessing and ruminating on what has been done to us or what we have done to someone else. Or, in so many cases, putting childhood events and stored-up hatred and resentment out of mind, only to have them appear as unrelated depression and irritability.

It is not unusual for resentment to keep us awake at night, invade other healthier thoughts, interfere in other relationships, and create distractions at work. This is costly and counterproductive, to you, not the person who harmed you. As the adage says, resentment is taking poison and waiting for the other person to die. We who hold the memory, consciously or not, the thoughts and the feelings of the transgression, are the ones who are suffering, and we are the only ones who have the power to transcend the heaviness.

Through forgiving and cultivating genuine compassion, we take our power back; we open the door to freedom. We discover the freedom to be inventive in relating to others, to handling traumatic experiences in a strong and firm manner and standing up for ourselves without damaging anyone else. Being resilient, weathering the next storm or navigating the present upheaval requires an open heart and a clear mind that results from forgiving and having compassion.

To be resilient requires a lightness of step and the flexibility to move and not stay stuck or mired in yesterday. It is through accepting the reality of what has been done, accepting the reality of having been hurt, betrayed, wronged; working through the layers and layers of difficult emotions and thoughts accompanying the injury, and finding ways to improve our life and state of mind that gives us the best opportunity for true freedom from insult and trauma. It is through admitting, feeling, and letting go of the negative emotions associated with the egregious act that we transcend victimization.

Many people are under the illusion that forgiveness lets the misdoer off the hook; it does not. Genuine forgiveness is not about condoning awful behavior. Forgiveness and compassion do not green light what has been done. There's no question that perpetrators who are in a position to hurt again need to be stopped. Ironically, the clearer we are, the less saddled with the negativity of previous transgressions, the more creative and effective we can be in stopping further violations. The fewer resentment blocks you have, the more access you have to saying no; cursing the behavior appropriately and in a resilient fashion protects you or anyone else who needs it.

"The Woman's Book of Resilience: 12 Qualities to Cultivate" by Beth Miller

Please leave a Memorial or Dedication, to someone special in your life. 

I knelt to pray when day was done And prayed, "O Lord, bless everyone, Lift from each saddened heart the pain And let the sick be well again."And then I woke another day And carelessly went on my way, The whole day long I did not try To wipe a tear from any eye. I did not try to share the load Of any brother on the road. I did not even go to see the sick man just next door to me.Yet once again when day was done I prayed, "O Lord, bless everyone."But as I prayed, into my ear there came a voice that whispered clear,"Pause now, my child, before you pray. Whom have you tried to bless today? Gods sweetest blessing always go by hands that serve him here below."And then I hid my face and cried,"Forgive me, God, I have not tried, But let me live another day and I will live the way I pray."

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