http://www.gocomics.com/calvinandhobbes/2008/11/10/
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Monday, November 10, 2008
Daily Devotional by Max Lucado, Nov 9th
Daily Devotional by Max Lucado
�the One who came still comes and the One who spoke still speaks�
November 10
Infinite Patience
Patience produces character, and character produces hope. And this hope will never disappoint us.
Romans 5:4-5 (NCV)
God is often more patient with us than we are with ourselves. We assume that if we fall, we aren't born again. If we stumble, then we aren't truly converted. If we have the old desires, then we must not be a new creation.
If you are anxious about this, please remember, "God began doing a good work in you, and I am sure he will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again" (Phil. 1:6).
From: A Gentle Thunder
Copyright (Word Publishing, 1996)
Max Lucado
Sunday, November 9, 2008
How to Combat Racism and Political Intolerance
This post on Facebook, by Jaletta Wells Parsley, talks about the Christian antidote for the racist behavior exhibited at Baylor.
---------------------------------------
This is probably longer than a post here should be, but I posted this note on my page a few days ago, troubled by what I had read, seen & heard before I even heard about the awful stuff that happened at BU this week. Seems appropo so I wanted to share. jaletta parsley, BA 86, Psy.D. 91
Fruit = cure for political ills
love
• which prevents me from treating anyone with contempt
--political opponents
--people whose religious faith I don’t understand or share
--the poor (who actually aren’t a giant group of people too lazy to work who want my money).
• which allows me to see all people (even political adversaries) as whole human beings whom God made and God loves.
joy
• that I live in a country where we can have a transfer of power from one political party to another without bloodshed or widespread corruption. amazing when you really think about it. ask someone from Zimbabwe.
• that barriers were broken for minorities and for women that may inspire young people to work harder and do more good because they see possibilities they never saw before.
peace
• because I know my security doesn’t ultimately come from the US government anyway.
patience
• with my friends from both sides who think they know everything and aren’t respectful to those who disagree with them.
kindness
• which allows me to acknowledge the remarkable gifts, abilities and accomplishments of all the candidates, not just the ones I support. seriously, they ALL have them! seriously.
• which motivates me to change the tv channel/radio station when I hear stuff that feeds bitterness and anger instead of reason and good will.
goodness
• which prevents me from passing on unfair attacks or distortions even if it might accomplish something politically or just feels good to say or write.
• which makes me more committed to fairness, honesty and integrity than to victory.
• which makes me want liberty and justice for all, not just myself and those who agree with me.
gentleness
• which won’t let me treat people who disagree with me like they are complete idiots.
• which compels me to admit I don’t know everything.
• which makes me apologize and admit arrogance or bitterness in myself when I need to.
faithfulness
• to genuinely pray for health, well-being, wisdom and success for all our political leaders.
• to humbly follow Christ the best I know how even when its politically inconvenient.
self-control
• which closes my mouth before I say things that are hateful, irrational and ignorant.
• which closes my mouth before I use sarcasm or wit in a hurtful way to belittle people who disagree with me.
• which sometime just closes my mouth.
---------------------------------------
This is probably longer than a post here should be, but I posted this note on my page a few days ago, troubled by what I had read, seen & heard before I even heard about the awful stuff that happened at BU this week. Seems appropo so I wanted to share. jaletta parsley, BA 86, Psy.D. 91
Fruit = cure for political ills
love
• which prevents me from treating anyone with contempt
--political opponents
--people whose religious faith I don’t understand or share
--the poor (who actually aren’t a giant group of people too lazy to work who want my money).
• which allows me to see all people (even political adversaries) as whole human beings whom God made and God loves.
joy
• that I live in a country where we can have a transfer of power from one political party to another without bloodshed or widespread corruption. amazing when you really think about it. ask someone from Zimbabwe.
• that barriers were broken for minorities and for women that may inspire young people to work harder and do more good because they see possibilities they never saw before.
peace
• because I know my security doesn’t ultimately come from the US government anyway.
patience
• with my friends from both sides who think they know everything and aren’t respectful to those who disagree with them.
kindness
• which allows me to acknowledge the remarkable gifts, abilities and accomplishments of all the candidates, not just the ones I support. seriously, they ALL have them! seriously.
• which motivates me to change the tv channel/radio station when I hear stuff that feeds bitterness and anger instead of reason and good will.
goodness
• which prevents me from passing on unfair attacks or distortions even if it might accomplish something politically or just feels good to say or write.
• which makes me more committed to fairness, honesty and integrity than to victory.
• which makes me want liberty and justice for all, not just myself and those who agree with me.
gentleness
• which won’t let me treat people who disagree with me like they are complete idiots.
• which compels me to admit I don’t know everything.
• which makes me apologize and admit arrogance or bitterness in myself when I need to.
faithfulness
• to genuinely pray for health, well-being, wisdom and success for all our political leaders.
• to humbly follow Christ the best I know how even when its politically inconvenient.
self-control
• which closes my mouth before I say things that are hateful, irrational and ignorant.
• which closes my mouth before I use sarcasm or wit in a hurtful way to belittle people who disagree with me.
• which sometime just closes my mouth.
Food for Thought
Five (5) lessons to make you think about the way we treat people.
1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.
During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:
'What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?'
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
'Absolutely,' said the professor. 'In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'hello.'
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:3 0 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s.. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistancee and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached..
It read: 'Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away.. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.'
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
'How much is an ice cream sundae?' he asked.
'Fifty cents,' replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.
'Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?' he inquired.
By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.
'Thirty-five cents,' she brusquely replied.
The little boy again counted his coins.
'I'll have the plain ice cream,' he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.
4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand!
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.
5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts...
Many years ago , when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, 'Yes I'll do it if it will save her.' As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, 'Will I start to die right away?'
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her but he had chosen to save her anyway.
Now you have 2 choices.
1. Delete this email, or
2. Forward it to people you care about. I hope that you will choose No. 2
'Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like you do when nobody's watching.'
NOW more than ever - Peace...Pass It On
This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm
1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.
During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:
'What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?'
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
'Absolutely,' said the professor. 'In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'hello.'
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:3 0 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s.. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistancee and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached..
It read: 'Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away.. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.'
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
'How much is an ice cream sundae?' he asked.
'Fifty cents,' replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.
'Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?' he inquired.
By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.
'Thirty-five cents,' she brusquely replied.
The little boy again counted his coins.
'I'll have the plain ice cream,' he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.
4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand!
Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.
5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts...
Many years ago , when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, 'Yes I'll do it if it will save her.' As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, 'Will I start to die right away?'
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her but he had chosen to save her anyway.
Now you have 2 choices.
1. Delete this email, or
2. Forward it to people you care about. I hope that you will choose No. 2
'Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like you do when nobody's watching.'
NOW more than ever - Peace...Pass It On
This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm
A Girl with an Apple
Not sure this is true, but it is a beautiful story, and will be made into a movie. http://www.snopes.com/glurge/thefence.asp
-------------------------------------------------
(This is a true story and you can find out more by Googling Herman Rosenblat. He was Bar Mitzvahed at age 75)
August 1942. Piotrkow, Poland
The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square.
Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.
"Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, "don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen.
"I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker.
An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, and then asked my age.
"Sixteen," I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.
My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick and elderly people.
I whispered to Isidore, "Why?"
He didn't answer.
I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her.
"No, "she said sternly.
"Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers."
She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.
My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany.
We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers.
"Don't call me Herman anymore." I said to my brothers. "Call me 94983."
I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator.
I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number.
Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin.
One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice.
"Son," she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel."
Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream.
But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.
A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone.
On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl w ith light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree.
I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German. "Do you have something to eat?"
She didn't understand.
I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life.
She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence.
I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you tomorrow."
I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple.
We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both.
I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me?
Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.
Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia .
"Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving."
I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.
We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed.
On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM.
In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over.
I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited. But at 8 A.M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers.
Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived;
I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival.
In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none.
My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.
Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America , where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years.
By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.
One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me.
"I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date."
A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me.
But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma.
I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.
The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with.
Turned out she was wary of blind dates too!
We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.
We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat.
As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, "Where were you," she asked softly, "during the war?"
"The camps," I said. The terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.
She nodded. "My family was hiding on a farm in Germany , not far from Berlin ," she told me. "My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers."
I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were both survivors, in a new world.
"There was a camp next to the farm." Roma continued. "I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day."
What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. "What did he look like? I asked.
"He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months."
My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it.
This couldn't be.
"Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?"
Roma looked at me in amazement. "Yes!"
"That was me!"
I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My angel.
"I'm not letting you go." I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait.
"You're crazy!" she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week.
There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.
That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let her go.
Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach, Florida
This story is being made into a movie called The Fence.
This e-mail is intended to reach 40 million people world-wide.
Join us and be a link in the memorial chain and help us distribute it around the world.
Please send this e-mail to 10 people you know and ask them to continue the memorial chain.
Please don't just delete it. It will only take you a minute to pass this along. Thanks!
This email was cleaned by emailStripper, available for free from http://www.papercut.biz/emailStripper.htm
-------------------------------------------------
(This is a true story and you can find out more by Googling Herman Rosenblat. He was Bar Mitzvahed at age 75)
August 1942. Piotrkow, Poland
The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square.
Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.
"Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, "don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen.
"I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker.
An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, and then asked my age.
"Sixteen," I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.
My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick and elderly people.
I whispered to Isidore, "Why?"
He didn't answer.
I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her.
"No, "she said sternly.
"Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers."
She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.
My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany.
We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers.
"Don't call me Herman anymore." I said to my brothers. "Call me 94983."
I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator.
I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number.
Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin.
One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice.
"Son," she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel."
Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream.
But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.
A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone.
On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl w ith light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree.
I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German. "Do you have something to eat?"
She didn't understand.
I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life.
She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence.
I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you tomorrow."
I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple.
We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both.
I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me?
Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.
Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia .
"Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving."
I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.
We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed.
On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM.
In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over.
I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited. But at 8 A.M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers.
Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived;
I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival.
In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none.
My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.
Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America , where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years.
By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.
One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me.
"I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date."
A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me.
But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma.
I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.
The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with.
Turned out she was wary of blind dates too!
We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.
We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat.
As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, "Where were you," she asked softly, "during the war?"
"The camps," I said. The terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.
She nodded. "My family was hiding on a farm in Germany , not far from Berlin ," she told me. "My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers."
I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were both survivors, in a new world.
"There was a camp next to the farm." Roma continued. "I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day."
What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. "What did he look like? I asked.
"He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months."
My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it.
This couldn't be.
"Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?"
Roma looked at me in amazement. "Yes!"
"That was me!"
I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My angel.
"I'm not letting you go." I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait.
"You're crazy!" she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week.
There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.
That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let her go.
Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach, Florida
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An Old Farmer’s Advice
Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong
Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance
Life is simpler when you plow around the stump
A bumblebee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor
Words that soak into your ears are whispered not yelled
Meanness don’t jes’ happen overnight
Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Every path has a few puddles
When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
The best sermons are lived, not preached.
Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.
Don’t judge folks by their relatives.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Don’t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t botherin’ you none.
Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.
Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
The biggest troublemaker you’ll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin’.
Always drink upstream from the herd.
Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.
Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.
If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around.
Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly and leave the rest to God.
Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance
Life is simpler when you plow around the stump
A bumblebee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor
Words that soak into your ears are whispered not yelled
Meanness don’t jes’ happen overnight
Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Every path has a few puddles
When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
The best sermons are lived, not preached.
Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.
Don’t judge folks by their relatives.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Don’t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t botherin’ you none.
Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.
Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
The biggest troublemaker you’ll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin’.
Always drink upstream from the herd.
Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.
Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.
If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around.
Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly and leave the rest to God.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Daily Devotional by Max Lucado, Nov 6th
Daily Devotional by Max Lucado
�the One who came still comes and the One who spoke still speaks�
November 6
A Useful Vessel
�If you give up your life for me, you will find true life.�
Matthew 16:25 (NLT)
When you�re full of yourself, God can�t fill you.
But when you empty yourself, God has a useful vessel. Your Bible overflows with examples of those who did.
In his gospel, Matthew mentions his own name only twice. Both times he calls himself a tax collector. In his list of apostles, he assigns himself the eighth spot.
John doesn�t even mention his name in his gospel. The twenty appearances of �John� all refer to the Baptist. John the apostle simply calls himself �the other disciple� or the �disciple whom Jesus loved.�
Luke wrote two of the most important books in the Bible but never once penned his own name.
From: Cure for the Common Life
Copyright (W Publishing Group, 2005)
Max Lucado
Monday, November 3, 2008
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