A Tribute to Grandparents

Every Grandparent can testify that if someone would have just told them that grandchildren were so much fun, the choice would have been made to have them first!

****
She was in the bathroom, putting on her makeup, under the watchful eyes of her young granddaughter as she'd done many times before. After she applied her lipstick and started to leave, the little one said, "But Gramma, you forgot to kiss the toilet paper good-bye!"

****
My young grandson called the other day to wish me a happy
birthday. He asked me how old I was, and I told him, "62." He was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "Did you start at 1?"

****
Grandparents have one thing God doesn't have: GRANDCHILDREN!!

****
After putting her grandchildren to bed, a grandmother changed into old slacks and a droopy blouse and proceeded to wash her hair. As she heard the children getting more and more rambunctious, her patience grew thin. Finally, she threw a towel around her head and stormed into their room, putting them back to bed with stern warnings. As she left the room,
she heard the three-year-old say with a trembling voice, "Who was THAT?"

****
"A grandmother is a lady who has no children of her own. She likes other people's little girls and boys. A grandfather is a man-grandmother. He goes for walks with the boys and they talk about fishing and stuff like that. Grandmother's don't have to do anything but...be there. They're old, so they shouldn't play too hard or run. It's enough if they drive us to the market where the pretend-horse is and have plenty of quarters ready. Or if they take us for walks they slow down past things like pretty leaves and caterpillars. Usually, grandmothers are fat but not too fat to tie your shoes. They wear glasses and funny underwear, and they can take their teeth and gums off! When they read to us they don't skip or mind it if it is the same story again. Everybody should try to have a grandmother, especially if you don't have cable- because they're the only grown-ups who have time."

****
Grandparents are the only ones who have time to play.

****
A grandmother was telling her little granddaughter what her own childhood was like: "We used to skate outside on a pond. I had a swing made from a tire; it hung from a tree in our front yard. We rode our pony. We picked wild raspberries in the woods." The little girl was wide-eyed, taking this all in. At last she said, "I sure wish I'd gotten to know you sooner!"

****
My grandson was visiting one day when he asked, "Grandma, do you know how you and God are alike?" I mentally polished my halo while I asked, "No, how are we alike?" "You're both old," he replied.

****
In the car my four-year-old granddaughter asked me why I was wearing the brightly colored scarf I had on. "I thought it would make my blue suit look much prettier," I said. After a moment's consideration, she replied sympathetically, "It didn't work, did it?"

****
A little girl was diligently pounding away on her grandfather' s computer keyboard. She told him she was writing a story. "What's it about?" he asked. "I don't know," she replied. "I can't read."

[From Sermon Central]

Well, if the Pope Can't be Patient...

I once heard a humorous story about the Pope who was on a visit to America for a period of time. On his last day of the visit, he was delayed due to meetings and was unable to break away to catch a flight.

Since he couldn’t depend on his Pope Mobile, he phoned for a limousine. When the limousine arrived, the driver was joyfully surprised that it was the Pope who called for him. The driver became nervous and was beside himself. He proceeded to drive very slowly. The Pope became nervous and told him to hurry up. It did not make a bit of difference. The driver went slower; he wanted to keep the Pope in his limousine as long as he could. The Pope could not be delayed any longer so he asked to drive the limo himself. The Pope sped off and reached the speed of 85 miles an hour. The policeman who stopped him was shocked when he discovered the famous personality behind the wheel. He frantically phoned his police chief and said, “Chief, I have stopped a very important figure for speeding. I don’t know what to do?”
--“What do you mean? Give him a speeding ticket!”
--“Sir, in all honesty, I can’t.”
--“Why can’t you? The law is the law. Who is it anyway that you stopped? Is it the mayor?”
--“No, sir.”
--“Is it the governor?”
--“No, sir.”
--“Is it a congressman?”
--“Is it the president?”
--“No, sir.”
--“Well, then, who is it?!”
--“I don’t know sir! All I know is that the Pope is driving him to the airport.”

[story found at Sermon Central]

Repent...and be at Peace!

The first story comes from Africa and was told by Festo Kivengere (former Anglican Archbishop of Kigezi, Uganda, and leader of the African Enterprise evangelistic team) in Decision magazine. He says, "My uncle, the chief, was sitting in court one day with his courtiers around him when a man came and bowed in the African way. He was rich in cattle and was well known as a man who sought God through the spirits of dead relatives. He had come with eight cows which he left some twenty yards away.

'I have come for a purpose, sir,' the man said.

'What are those cows for?' asked the chief.

'Sir, they are yours.'

'What do you mean they are mine?'

'They are yours. When I was looking after your cattle, I stole four and now they are eight, and I am bringing them.'

'Who arrested you?'

'Jesus arrested me, sir, and here are your cows.'

There was no laughter, only a shocked silence. My uncle could see this man was at peace with himself and rejoicing.

'You can put me in prison or beat me up,' the man said, 'but I am liberated. Jesus came my way and I am a free human being.'

'Well, if God has done that for you, who am I to put you in prison? You go home.'

A few days later, having heard the news, I went to see my uncle. I said to him, 'Uncle, I hear you got eight free cows!'

'Yes, it's true,' he said.

'You must be happy.'

'Forget it! Since that man came, I can't sleep. If I want the peace he has, I would have to return a hundred cows!'"

Kivengere says that later this chief did come to Jesus Christ!

[http://www.christianity.co.nz/repent2.htm]

Repentance...and Regret

Rav Sholom Shvadron told the following story:

There was a man who had one son. The son was the joy of the man's life. When the child got older, he child decided to move overseas. The man was greatly saddened by the fact that the ocean would be separating him from his son. While overseas, the son got married and had children. The father greatly desired to see his son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren. The father constantly wrote to his son that he should come visit with his family. However, each time the invitation was extended, the son always replied that for some reason or another, a visit just was not foreseeable any time in the near future. Since this was the case, and the father's urge to see his son just grew over time, the father wrote to his son that since it was difficult for the son to make the trip, he would come and make the long journey to see the son and his family.

From the time that the father decided he was going to make this trip, he was busy with all sorts of preparations. The father's excitement grew as his departure date drew closer. Finally the day arrived. He embarked the ship laden with packages and gifts for his son and his family. Each day, the father did not cease to think about the fact that he would soon be seeing his son. From time to time, he would go on deck to see if they were nearing dry land. One morning, when he looked out, he saw the coastline, and his heart skipped a beat - he would soon be seeing his son! As the ship moved into the port, he scanned the people standing around, hoping to catch a glimpse of his son. However, he could not find him. He had no choice but to wait until he disembarked from the ship, and then search for his son.

One can only imagine how distraught the father was when his son was nowhere to be found. However, the father immediately gave his son the benefit of the doubt. He assumed that his son must have been so busy preparing for his imminent arrival that he was not able to meet him at the port. In order not to waste precious time, the father rushed to the train station so he would not miss the next train to the town where his son lived. Throughout his train ride, he was sure that his son would be there to meet him at the station. His excitement was building with each mile. When the train arrived at the station, he ran off the train, not wanting to miss his son. His disappointment with not finding his son there was greater than before. However, now his thoughts were not so much focused on the fact that his son might be busy with preparations. Instead, he started worrying: Did his son get into an accident, was everything all right?

With a heart full of worry and anxiety, the father hailed a cab to take him to his son's house. During the ride, he started imaging the warm reception awaiting him at the house. However, this dream was shattered as well. When the father arrived at the house, he found all the curtains drawn, and only a faint light could made out in one of the rooms of the house. Again the father started worrying. Was everyone healthy, did anything bad happen? His hands trembled as he knocked on the door. He knocked and waited for an answer, but there was none. He knocked again, this time harder, yet there was still no answer. Finally after knocking for a third time, he heard a faint "Who's there?" coming from the house. The father immediately recognized the voice - it was his son, who he longed to see. His excitement was unbounded knowing that the only thing that separated him from seeing his son was a door. The father responded "It is me, your father who traveled from afar to see you! Please, open the door!"

After a moment of silence, the son answered "Father, I have already removed my clothes for the night. Would it be a great trouble if you could stay at the hotel across the street tonight? I'm already in bed, and its a little difficult for me to come to the door right now. I will pick you up first thing in the morning." When the father heard this, he was despondent and infuriated. He thought "For years I have greatly desired to see my son. I had hoped that he would honor me and come visit me. However, that did not happen, and I had to go visit him. I had no doubt that he would be there with his children waiting for me at the port, yet he did not do this either. I thought that perhaps he had a reason that prevented him from greeting me at the port, but he would definitely be at the train station. He wasn't there. I finally come to his house only to find it dark. I knock on the door, only to find that my son is too lazy to even let me inside! After all this, I should wait for HIM at a hotel? I most certainly will NOT do this! " The father hailed the first taxi he could find, and went to the train station. He caught the first train back to the port, and immediately got on a ship headed back to his home, without even seeing his son.

The next morning, the son awoke. His heart was filled with remorse and regret for how he had treated his father the night before. He quickly got dressed, and ran to the hotel to find his father. The way the son felt upon discovering that his father was not there cannot be described. To call it anguish, remorse, or pain would only be an understatement.

---

Throughout the whole year, Hashem waits for the people of the nation of Israel to return to him with a complete heart. Hashem sees that we are not alacritious, and that we do not run to repent. Therefore, during this time of the year, Hashem comes to us. These days are days of mercy, which makes it even easier for us to repent, yet many people fail to take advantage of this opportunity. Hashem comes to us, but we will not even open the door for Him.

Hashem not only gave us the month of Elul and the holiday of Rosh HaShana to repent, but he gave us the "Ten Days of Repentance" as well. Our passing up both of these opportunities understandably causes Hashem anguish, just as the father was anguished when his son did not come to meet him. On Yom Kippur, Hashem is knocking on the doors of our heart, greatly desiring to be let in. Hopefully, we, unlike the son of the story, will at least do this, so we will not have to regret our mistake later.

[http://www.torah.org/learning/yomtov/yomkippur/vol1no41.html#]

The Repentant Sinner

Leo Tolstoy gives us this story (and much to think about): http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Repentant_Sinner.

Here is a version with more modern language:

There was once a man who lived for seventy years in the world, and lived in sin all that time. He fell ill, but even then did not repent. Only at the last moment, as he was dying, he wept and said:

'Lord! forgive me, as You forgave the thief upon the cross.'

And as he said these words, his soul left his body. And the soul of the sinner, feeling love towards God and faith in His mercy, went to the gates of heaven, and knocked, praying to be let into the heavenly kingdom.

Then a voice spoke from within the gate:

'What man is it that knocks at the gates of Paradise, and what deeds did he do during his life?'

And the voice of the Accuser replied, recounting all the man's evil deeds, and not a single good one.

And the voice from within the gates answered:

'Sinners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. Go hence!'

Then the man said:

'Lord, I hear your voice, but cannot see your face, nor do I know your name.'

The voice answered:

'I am Peter, the Apostle.'

And the sinner replied:

'Have pity on me, Apostle Peter! Remember man's weakness, and God's mercy. Were you not a disciple of Christ? Did you not hear his teaching from his own lips, and had you not his example before you? Remember then how, when he sorrowed and was grieved in spirit, and three times asked you to keep awake and pray, you slept, because your eyes were heavy, and three times he found you sleeping. So it was with me. Remember, also, how you promised to be faithful unto death, and yet three times, you denied him, when he was taken before the High Priest Caiaphas. So it was with me. And remember, too, how when the cock crowed you went out and wept bitterly. So it is with me. You cannot refuse to let me in.'

And the voice behind the gates was silent.

Then the sinner stood a little while, and again began to knock, and to ask to be let into the kingdom of heaven.

And he heard another voice behind the gates, which said:

'Who is this man, and how did he live on earth?'

And the voice of the Accuser again repeated all the sinner's evil deeds, and not a single good one.

And the voice from behind the gates replied:

'Go away! Such sinners cannot live with us in Paradise.' Then the sinner said:

'Lord, I hear your voice, but I see you not, nor do I know your name.'

And the voice answered:

'I am David; king and prophet.'

The sinner did not despair, nor did he leave the gates of paradise, but said:

Have pity on me, King David! Remember man's weakness, and God's mercy. God loved you and exalted you among men. You had it all: a kingdom, and honour, and riches, and wives, and children; but you saw from your house-top the wife of a poor man, and sin entered into you, and you took the wife of Uriah, and you slew him with the sword of the Ammonites. You, a rich man, took from the poor man his one ewe lamb, and you killed him. I have done likewise. Remember, then, how you did repent, and how you said, "I acknowledge my transgressions: my sin is ever before me?" I have done the same. You cannot refuse to let me in.'

And the voice from within the gates was silent.

The sinner having stood a little while, began knocking again, and asked to be let into the kingdom of heaven. And a third voice was heard within the gates, saying:

'Who is this man, and how has he spent his life on earth?'

And the voice of the Accuser replied for the third time, recounting the sinner's evil deeds, and not mentioning one good deed.

And the voice within the gates said:

'Depart now! Sinners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.'

And the sinner said:

‘Your voice I hear, but your face I see not, neither do I know your name.'

Then the voice replied:

'I am John the Divine, the beloved disciple of Christ.'

And the sinner rejoiced and said:

'Now surely I will be allowed to enter. Peter and David must let me in, because they know man's weakness and God's mercy; and you will let me in, because you have loved much. Was it not you, John the Divine, who wrote that God is Love, and that he who loves not, knows not God? And in your old age didn’t you say: "Friends, love one another." How, then, can you look on me with hatred, and drive me away? Either you must renounce what you have said, or loving me, must let me enter the kingdom of heaven.'

And the gates of Paradise opened, and John embraced the repentant sinner and took him into the kingdom of heaven.

The Hundred Dollar Word

He lived from 1865 to 1936. He was English, yet born in Bombay, India. He wrote poetry and is the author of books like Captain Courageous, How the Leopard Got His Spots, and The Jungle Books. Who was this man? Rudyard Kipling.

Kipling’s writings not only made him famous but also brought him a fortune. A newspaper reporter came up to him once and said, "Mr. Kipling, I just read that somebody calculated that the money you make from your writings amounts to over one hundred dollars a word.”

The reporter reached into his pocket and pulled out a one hundred-dollar bill and gave it to Kipling and said, “Here’s a one hundred dollar bill, Mr. Kipling. Now you give me one of your hundred dollar words.”

Rudyard Kipling looked at the money, put it in his pocket and said, "Thanks!"

Improvisational Gratitude

"Paul Duke once said that praise is the "jazz factor" of faith, that praise is love improvising its answer to love. Praise is love improvising its answer to love. When one is learning to play an instrument, one first has to learn the basic fingering and, with some instruments, the discipline of breath control. First pieces of music are relatively uncomplicated, as one learns to transfer the notes that one sees on the score to the breath and the fingers, and ultimately into simple melodies. Over time the melodies may become more complex, requiring more intricate dexterity and coordination. Some musicians become remarkable technicians, learning to play flawlessly and with great passion. And a few of them will discover a capacity to internalize the score, to sense deeply its ebb and flow, and then to float free of that score, improvising as they go... retaining the theme, but enriching it with their own grace....

When I'm at my best, I can improvise such praise. When I'm at my best, even simple daily occurrences can stir such feelings: the laughter of a young child, a sunset full of orange and yellow, a warm bowl of oatmeal on a crisp autumn morning, safe transit through heavy traffic, an unexpected act of kindness, a pedal note on the organ that makes the windows rattle and my heart stir, a disagreement settled and resolved. When I'm at my best, I can improvise praise and gratitude for such moments.

At other times I find my senses dulled by routines, or my conscious thoughts consumed by those things that cause anxiety, by pettiness and envy, by expectation and demand. In those days I do well simply to follow the score. By "the score," I mean the commands of God for faithfulness, for honesty, for treating others with respect, for demonstrating kindness to my neighbor. Sometimes just following the score seems like burden and demand. And in those days improvisational gratitude seems impossible, at least without some help.

There's an old story about a renowned pianist and composer - a grand one who lived at the beginning of the last century - and a lovely thing that happened at the start of one of his concerts. At this particular concert a woman and her young son came to hear the master play. The young boy had only recently begun his piano lessons, and the mother, wishing to encourage his studies, took him to the concert.

The two were seated just prior to the concert, but the mother spotted a dear friend along the aisle a few rows back and went to speak to her, telling the boy to wait in his seat. But, then, what child likes to sit still? And so seizing the moment of opportunity to explore a bit, the boy made his way down the aisle, through an open curtain in a doorway and disappeared.

The houselights dimmed and the mother returned to her seat, discovering as she did that her son was not in his seat. She began frantically to look all around, not paying attention to the curtains opening on stage. But at the laughter of the audience, she looked, and there, seated at the magnificent Steinway on the stage, was her son, haltingly playing the first song he had learned to play: "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

The mother was horrified, and started to get up; but at that same moment the great pianist himself entered from the other side of the stage, putting his finger to his mouth to still the audience. He moved to the piano and whispered in the boy's ear. The boy kept playing, and then the master reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part to the composition. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obbligato. Together the old master and this young novice transformed an awkward moment into a moment of grace, and as they finished playing, the audience broke forth in thunderous applause.

The truth is the melody of gratitude is not always easy. We sometimes play it haltingly; we are sometimes undone by our own pettiness and insecurities. We may at times feel more like humming dirges of lamentation to ourselves. But by grace, sometimes we hear whispers of remarkable encouragement, whispers to us to keep playing. And as we do, in grace God extends and complements our own best efforts...transforms us in ways we had never dreamed possible. That's grace. And when it touches us maybe then we see something that others, like the other nine, miss. We see that life is a gift, that this day is a gift, and that our life's simple melody is never sung a cappella, never played alone, but is always accompanied, richly, fully. And those who are able to see in such a way cannot simply keep moving down the path they've been traveling, because what stirs in them...seeing what they see...is improvisational gratitude and praise. What stirs in them is pure jazz.

Let the music of gratitude play in us, O God. Let it play. Amen.

[from the sermon, "Improvisational Gratitude" by the Rev. Dr. Robert Dunham.]