THOUGHT FOR THE DAY...

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lizwool
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THOUGHT FOR THE DAY...

Please feel free to add your favorites!

Please do not respond to these .... this is an opportunity for you to share yours, and read others ....

If you would like to start a new topic on any of them, please feel free.

Edited by: lizwool at: 1/25/03 8:52:03 am

Liz Woolley

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Re: THOUGHT FOR THE DAY...

We cannot change our past.
We cannot change the fact that people will act a certain way.
We cannot change the inevitable.
The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.
I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent how I react to it. -Charles Swindoll

Liz Woolley

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Re: THOUGHT FOR THE DAY...

Quote:Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light.Thanks, Diggo, for your unwavering support here!

Liz Woolley

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Spring is here! The renewal

Spring is here! The renewal of life in so many ways around us is taking place. Now is the time to plant your seeds of change...to take time to consider what changes you want to make in your life and to start planning on how to make them.
The days grows longer and the nourishing sun and fresh air will help us grow and heal. Our energies shift to getting rid of old, useless things in our lives, hence the idea of Spring Cleaning.

Take advantage of this time, to put out those old habits that no longer suit us, whether they be online gaming or watching TV. When we are old and gray, we will not be thinking about our online successes or the TV shows we watched...we will be thinking of all the things we DIDN'T do.

Today is a new day and your future awaits... Enjoy!

Ron

Ron Jaffe AKA Diggo McDiggity Discussion Board Administrator
Everquest player from July, 1999 to April, 2002 Over 4,900 Hours Played

Co-Founder of OLGA and member since 2002

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Character is doing the right

Character is doing the right thing when nobody's looking.

- J.C. Watts

Liz Woolley

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Re: THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY...

This is a beautiful story of a student in the theology class of Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola. Father Powell was a popular lecturer in the 60s and 70s at religious conferences.
-----------------------------------------------------
Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the first day I first saw Tommy.

My eyes and my mind both blinked.

He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts, but on that day

I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange . . . very strange. Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God.

We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester,
although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a slightly cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically.

"Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, "Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!"

He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line, "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever.

Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful. Then a sad report. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer.

Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted, and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the
first time, I believe.

"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick." I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.

"Sure; what would you like to know?" he replied.

"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being
fifty and thinking that computer gaming is the real 'biggy' in life."

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

"But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which surprised me.
Then you said, 'But He will find you.' I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time.

(My "clever" line; he thought about that a lot!)

But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, then I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I
really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven."

"But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit."

"Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care . . . about God, about an afterlife, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable."

"I thought about you and your class, and I remembered
something else you had said: "The essential sadness is to go
through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them."

So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him.

"Dad". . .

"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you. I mean . . . It's really
important."

The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know."

Tom smiled at me and said with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt warm and secret joy flowing inside of him.

"The newspaper fluttered to the floor.

Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. And we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning.

It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me"

"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other and started saying real nice things to each other.

We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry about one thing: that I had waited so long."

"Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't
come to me when I pleaded with him.

I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give you three days, three weeks.'

Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own
hour."

"But the important thing is that He was there. He found me. You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love.

You know, the Apostle John said that. He said:'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.'

"Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But(laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective
as if you told it."

"Ooh ... I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me
and my class.

Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only
changed.

He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever hear or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time.

"I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.

"I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?

"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple statement about love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven: "I told them, Tommy . .. . as best I could."

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.

It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

John Powell, A professor at Loyola University in Chicago

Liz Woolley

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whee

If they ever come up with a swashbuckling School, I think one of the courses should be Laughing, Then Jumping Off Something.
When you're riding in a time machine way far into the future, don't stick your elbow out the window, or it'll turn into a fossil.

It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.

At first I thought, if I were Superman, a perfect secret identity would be "Clark Kent, Dentist," because you could save money on tooth X-rays. But then I thought, if a patient said, "How's my back tooth?" and you just looked at it with your X-ray vision and said, "Oh it's okay," then the patient would probably say, "Aren't you going to take an X-ray, stupid?" and you'd say, "Aw @#%$ you, get outta here," and then he probably wouldn't even pay his bill.

One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. "Oh, no," I said. "Disneyland burned down." He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.

A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. "Hear that?" you say. "That's dynamite, baby."

Why do people in ship mutinies always ask for "better treatment"? I'd ask for a pinball machine, because with all that rocking back and forth you'd probably be able to get a lot of free games.

I'd like to be buried Indian-style, where they put you up on a high rack, above the ground. That way, you could get hit by meteorites and not even feel it.

If I lived back in the wild west days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like "Hey, look. He's carrying a soldering iron!" and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, "That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice." Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they had made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.

I bet when the neanderthal kids would make a snowman, someone would always end up saying, "Don't forget the thick, heavy brows." Then they would all get embarrassed because they remembered they had the big hunky brows too, and they'd get mad and eat the snowman.

Fear can sometimes be a useful emotion. For instance, let's say you're an astronaught on the moon and you fear that your partner has been turned into Dracula. The next time he goes out for the moon pieces, wham!, you just slam the door behind him and blast off. He might call you on the radio and say he's not Dracula, but you just say, "Think again, bat man."

Too bad you can't buy a voodoo globe so that you could make the earth spin real fast and freak everybody out.

The people in the village were real poor, so none of the children had any toys. But this one little boy had gotten an old enema bag and filled it with rocks, and he would go around and whap the other children across the face with it. Man, I think my heart almost broke. Later the boy came up and offered to give me the toy. This was too much! I reached out my hand, but then he ran away. I chased him down and took the enema bag. He cried a little, but that's the way of these people.

I wish I had a Kryptonite cross, because then you could keep both Dracula AND Superman away.

I don't think I'm alone when I say I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system.

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself: "Mankind". Basically, it's made up of two separate words - "mank" and "ind". What do these words mean ? It's a mystery, and that's why so is mankind.

I hope if dogs ever take over the world, and they chose a king, they don't just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas.

I guess we were all guilty, in a way. We all shot him, we all skinned him, and we all got a complimentary bumper sticker that said, "I helped skin Bob."

I bet the main reason the police keep people away from a plane crash is they don't want anybody walking in and lying down in the crash stuff, then, when somebody comes up, act like they just woke up and go, "What was THAT?!"

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