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Friday, April 27, 2007

The Gift of Time




Good Morning Everyone,

Do you notice how much faster life is moving?
Everyone is so busy, they barely have
time for relationships, and almost no time
for themselves. Time for meditation, and prayer?
Puhlease (they say) I am busy.. what are you thinking?

Ok... busy doing what? Working?
Making money? Running the family around?
What is making us more busy than we were years
ago? Don't we have more modern conveniences
to make food faster, to drive faster, even
make phone calls quicker, and communicate
on a broader scope than ever before?

Why is it then busier? Why do we not find
time for that which is necessary for the
nurturing of our souls and the souls of
our family? Or ministering to the needs
of others? Or even allowing people to
encourage us. Do we have time for that?

Is some of our business unorganized or
unnecessary? If we could step back
and take a snapshot of our lives, would
we be happy with what we are doing with
and for our family and those we know are in
need?

Life is not about what we can get on the way
to where we are going, life is about what we
can do for those around us to make this world
a better place. For sure, we need to earn
money, and have a home and do our best
to prosper, but if we do not take time for
ourselves and others, soon we will find ourselves
older, and looking back with regrets.

What remains when we die?
How we have treated others. That is
what we will be remembered for.

I am struck by the fact that the more we have
to make life easier, the harder it seems.
And the more money we earn the less we
seem to enjoy it.
And the more conveniences we have
the more inconvenienced we feel.

Discontent reigns within our ranks.

We are not satisfied, we feel unhappy,
more people depressed than ever before.

Perhaps, we need to take time each day
to restore ourselves, to reach out to a friend
in need, and time to pray. God teach me how
to make use of my time wisely, how to love
others, how to invest my life, my time, my
money well. So that when I come to the
end of my life, I can look on a body of work
that was gifted to the betterment of others
and not the collection of things for myself.

Only one life will soon be past
Only what is done for Christ will last.

For what shall it profit a man if he
gains the whole world, but loses his own soul?
Matthew 16:26

Slow down for a time everyday,
love others, enjoy the precious life you have
been given. You only have this one life.
Precious commodity. Take care of it.

Love
Millie


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Mother Duck's Miracle
By Carolyn Griffin

"Just a couple hours now," said Dad, "and we'll soon be at our campsite!"

The year was 1950, and we were on our family vacation, doing our family thing - camping. I settled down in my corner of the back seat to take a nap. The rhythm of the moving car soothed me into a deep sleep.

Wham! I woke with a start, my face on the floorboard of the back seat. Dad had braked sharply.

"What happened?" I asked. "Where are we?"

"Half an hour from our campsite," he answered, "and I don't know what the holdup is, but all the cars have stopped. I'll see what's going on."

Dad stepped out of the car. Mom, my little brother David and I waited.

"Bet there's been an accident!" David was excited.

Mom shook her head. "Probably a bear crossing the road," she said. David bounced up and down in his seat. That was even better than an accident!

Dad came running back to the car. "Come on!" he said very excitedly. "Come on, kids! You've all got to see this!"

I jumped out of the car and ran to catch up with him. "What is it, Daddy?" I asked. He grinned and reached for my hand. "Come see, Carolyn," he said.

I knew that, whatever it was, it was nice because my father was happy about it. I grabbed his hand and skipped excitedly along beside him. We walked past a dozen parked cars. Ahead, a group of people stood "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing."

Looking in the same direction as everyone else, we saw a mother duck, sleek and proud, promenading up the middle of the road, nine little ducklings waddling after her. The babies were marching single file behind their mother, totally ignoring the people and automobiles.

No one from any of the stalled cars appeared to mind waiting on a fearless mother duck and her nine ducklings parading up the highway as if it were exclusively theirs.

We all followed Mrs. Duck and family a quarter of a mile up the hill. There Mrs. Duck led her children off the road, over a small embankment and into a little creek winding its way down the mountainside.

I walked back to the car with the adults and listened to their conversation with strangers.

"Oh, you're from Milwaukee? We lived there for four years!" They were discovering people and places they had in common.

I was quiet as we continued our journey, wondering about what we had just witnessed. Later in camp, I sat on a large rock next to my father, our feet dangling in the creek.

"Daddy?" I asked. "How did Mrs. Duck know that all those busy people would stop to let her walk along the road with her babies?"

Dad picked up a smooth stone, thoughtfully rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, then skimmed it over the water.

"Well, honey," he said, watching the little stone skim the water, "that's one of God's miracles. God used that mother duck and her babies to slow everyone down so they could enjoy life a little bit more. He arranges opportunities like this, sort of as a reminder to make people think about what's important in life."

I sat there for a moment, smiling over Dad's words. Soon, Mom joined us, stuck her tired feet into the cool water and sighed, "Oh-h, that feels good!"

David wandered up and sat beside Mom, cuddling close. We all relaxed there by the creek as the mountain breeze played a soothing symphony in the trees above, just for us.

Yes, it truly was a miracle!

Reprinted by permission of Carolyn Griffin (c) 2001 from Chicken Soup for the Nature Lover's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Steve Zikman. In order to protect the rights of the copyright holder, no portion of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent. All rights reserved.

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