Quote from Forum Archives on March 9, 2003, 2:41 pm

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

<>< A Simple Message ><>

 

There once was a man who had nothing for his
family to eat. He had an old shotgun and three
bullets. So, he decided that he would go out
and kill something for dinner.

 

As he went down the road, he saw a rabbit and
he shot at the rabbit and missed it. Then he saw
a squirrel and fired a shot at the squirrel and
missed it. As he went further, he saw a wild turkey
in the tree and he had only one bullet, but a voice
came to him and said "pray first, aim high and
stay focused."

 

However, at the same time, he saw deer which
was a better kill. He brought the gun down and
aimed at the deer. But, then he saw a rattle snake
between his legs about to bite him, so he naturally
brought the gun down further to shoot the rattle snake.

 

Still, the voice said again to him, "I said 'pray, aim
high and stay focused."

 

So, the man decided to listen to the voice. He prayed,
then aimed the gun high up in the tree and shot the
wild turkey. The bullet bounced off the turkey and
killed the deer. The handle fell off the gun and hit the
snake in the head and killed it. And, when the gun had
gone off, it knocked him into a pond. When he stood
to look around, he had fish in all his pockets, a dead
deer and a turkey to eat. The snake (Satan) was dead
simply because the man listened to God.

 

Moral of the story: Pray first before you do anything,
aim and shoot high in your goals, and stay focused
on God.

 

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<>< Derby Cars ><>

 

My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad". That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed. Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project began. Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do.

 

Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom). Gilbert had not seen any of the other kid's cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning", the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own.

 

Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race. Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed. A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilberts, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom".

 

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there.

 

As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old asked if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped. Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with his Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, "Okay, I am ready."

 

As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car. Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval. The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?" To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't cry when I lose."

 

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<>< Let God Lead Us ><>

 

I was walking down a dimly lit street one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to listen, and panicked when I realized that what I was hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle: heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric.

 

Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked.

 

Should I get involved?

 

I was frightened for my own safety, and berated myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night. What if I became another statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone and call the police?

 

Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in my head had only taken seconds, but already the girl's cries were growing weaker.

 

I knew I had to act fast. How could I walk away from this?

 

No, I finally resolved, I could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant risking my own life.

 

I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I don't know where I found the moral courage and physical strength~~~but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became strangely transformed.

 

I ran behind the bushes and pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped.

 

Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting to frighten her any further, I at first spoke to her from a distance.

 

"It's OK," I said soothingly. "The man ran away. You're safe now."

 

There was a long pause and then I heard the words, uttered in wonder, in amazement.

 

"Dad, is that you?"

 

And then, from behind the tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.

 

Have a Blessed Day

Dave and Barbara

 

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