| Just back from a Fast&Fabulous&Fruitful trip to Italy! (I left
DFW Sunday at 7pm and I was back yesterday at 2pm) I feel well rested from
my plane sleep so I'm ready to get on and have a big laugh with Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllll! Domenic *********************** THE RIGHT MEDICINE A calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy and walked right up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, "I would like to buy some cyanide." The pharmacist asked, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?" The lady replied, "I need it to poison my husband." The pharmacist's eyes got big, and he exclaimed, "Lord, have mercy! I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband! That's against the law! I would lose my license! They'll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen! Absolutely not! You cannot have any cyanide!" The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband
in bed with the pharmacist's wife. The pharmacist looked at the picture
and replied, "Well, now that's different. You didn't tell me you
had a prescription." I wonder WHY the bird does that.. Is it looking for a better place to
live? Surely it must pass a LOT of good real estate between its home seven
degrees south of the North Pole and Antarctica! Can't it find something
suitable? Is Antarctica really that much better? Or, if it's getting a
little warm, why doesn't the bird just fly up to the North But that's not the point. The point is that the bird returns home -- home to its special place near the North Pole. It flies all that distance and returns to just the same spot it once left. I can hardly drive across town without getting lost -- how does it do it? Twenty three thousand miles! But somehow, the Arctic Tern possesses the ability to fly halfway around the globe and return home every year. You know that the salmon leaves her little mountain stream as a fingerling and swims, perhaps hundreds of miles, to the ocean where she lives. Then, when it's time to lay eggs, she swims back to her place of birth. She somehow finds just the right river, and all of the correct tributaries and streams and creeks until she arrives home. It's the trip of a lifetime -- one she may not survive. But she presses on, somehow knowing just the right paths to take along the way. Like the arctic tern, the salmon possesses a built-in ability to find her way home. So it is with humans. Not in a physical sense, for many of us can't get anywhere without a map. But we have a built-in ability to successfully navigate the twists and turns of life. We may pay a lot of money for counseling, but, as a good counselor knows, it's not advice most of us need. So a skilled therapist will help us to find the way ourselves. When you feel lost and confused about a path you should take or a decision to be made those answers you need you usually possess -- deep inside. Learn to be still and listen, trust your natural guidance system, and you can most often can find your way home again. Are you using your homing instinct? A soldier stationed at the Pentagon worked through the night, then showered in the gymnasium before duty. But he took a wrong turn and accidentally locked himself out of the dressing room. There he stood, stark naked, in US Army headquarters. Luckily it was still early enough that no one saw him, so he ran to an empty elevator and headed for his floor. When he got there, he peeked around the corner and saw that the next hall was empty, too. He had nearly reached his office when he heard footsteps and the voice of his commanding officer. There was no chance he'd make it all the way to his office, so he ducked into the closest unlocked door, the Research & Development Laboratory. His luck ran out. A high-ranking officer looked up from her experiment with puzzled interest. He thought quickly, stood up straight, saluted her, and said, "Sgt. Scott here to report that the Personal Invisibility Device is only partially successful." "So I see," she replied. "But it appears the Shrink Ray
works perfectly!" I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night. He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, "Are you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed..." I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in. He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them. I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed. The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child. He does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work. He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores. And Saturdays - oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. "That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands. His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights. And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips. He doesn't know what it means to be discontent. His life is simple. He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be. His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax. He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure. He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue. Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God. Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion. In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith. It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care. Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God. And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed. Kevin won't be surprised at all! |