Melanie Hanni

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door.  A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.   He said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life.  He saved many lives that day, as he was carrying me to safety a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly.

He often talked about you, and your love for art.  ” The young man held out a package. “I know this isn’t much.  I’m not really a great artist, but I think your son would want you to have this.”  The father opened the package.  It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man.  He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting.  The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears.  He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.

“Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me.  It’s a gift.”   The father hung the portrait over his mantle.  Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later.  There was to be a great auction of his paintings many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for the collection.  On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel.  “We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.  Who will bid for this picture?”  There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, “We want to see the famous paintings.  Skip this one.   “But the auctioneer persisted. “  Will somebody bid for this painting.   Who will start the bidding?  $100, $200?” Another voice angrily. “We didn’t come to see this painting.  We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts.  Get on with the real bids!”  But still the auctioneer continued.   “The son! The son! Who’ll take the son?”

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room.  It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. “I’ll give $10 for the painting.”   Being a poor man, it was all he could afford. “We have $10, who will bid $20?”  “Give it to him for $10.  Let’s see the masters.”   “$10 is the bid, won’t someone bid $20?”     The crowd was becoming angry.  They didn’t want the picture of the son.  They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.  The auctioneer pounded the gavel.  “Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!”

A man sitting on the second row shouted,  “Now let’s get on with the collection!”  The auctioneer laid down his gavel.  “I’m sorry, the auction is over.”  “What about the paintings?”   “I am sorry.  When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned.  Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.  The man who took the son gets everything!”

God gave His son over 2,000 years ago to die on the cross.  Much like the auctioneer, His message today is:  “The son, the son, who’ll take the son?” Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  John 3:16

Christmas Thoughts – poem by Helen Steiner Rice

Christmas in Heaven
I see the countless Christmas trees,
Around the world below,
With tiny lights like heavens stars,
Reflecting on the snow.
The sight is so spectacular,
Please wipe away your tears,
For I am spending Christmas with
With Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs,
That people hold so dear,
But the sounds of music can’t compare,
With the Christmas choir here.
I have not words to tell you,
The joy their voices bring,
It’s far beyond description,
To hear the angels sing.

I know how you miss me,
I see the pain within your heart,
But I am not so far away.
We really aren’t apart.
So be happy for me loved ones.
You know I hold you dear,
And be glad for I am spending Christmas
With Jesus Christ this year.

I send you each a memory,
Of my un-denying love.
After all, “Love” is the gift
More precious than pure gold.
It was always most important
In the stories Jesus told.

Please love and keep each other,
Like my Father said to do.
For I can’t count the blessings
Or the love He has for you.
So have a Merry Christmas
And wipe away your tears.
For I am spending Christmas with
Jesus Christ this year.

by Sarah Schieber

Rejoice in the Lord – It’s Christmas – poem by Helen Steiner Rice

Every Rose Has Its Thorn – A Story of Thanksgiving – Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes when she pulled open the florist shop door, against a November gust of wind.  Her life had been as sweet as a spring breeze and then, in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a “minor” automobile accident stole her joy .  This was Thanksgiving week the time she should have delivered their infant son.  She grieved over their loss.

Troubles had multiplied. Her husband’s company “threatened” to transfer his job to a new location.   Her sister had called to say that she could not come for her long awaited holiday visit.  What’s worse, Sandra ‘s friend suggested that Sandra ‘s grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.

“She has no idea what I’m feeling,” thought Sandra with a shudder “Thanksgiving?  Thankful for what?” she wondered… “For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended me? For an airbag that saved my life, but took my child’s?”

“Good afternoon, can I help you?”  Sandra was startled by the approach of the shop clerk. “I, I need an arrangement,” stammered Sandra.  “For Thanksgiving?   I’m convinced that flowers tell stories, ” she continued… “Are you looking for something that conveys ‘gratitude’ this Thanksgiving?”  “Not exactly!” Sandra blurted out. “In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong.”  Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the clerk said, “I have the perfect arrangement for you.”

Then the bell on the door rang, and the clerk greeted the new customer….”Hi, Barbara, let me get your order.” She excused herself and walked back to a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and what appeared to be long-stemmed thorny roses.  Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.  “Do you want these in a box?” asked the clerk.

Sandra watched – was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers!  She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.. “Yes, please,” Barbara replied with an appreciative smile.   “You’d think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn’t be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again,” she said,  as she gently tapped her chest.

Sandra stammered, “Ah, that lady just left with . . . uh . . . she left with no flowers!”  “That’s right,” said the clerk. “I cut off the flowers.  That’s the ‘Special’ …I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet.  Barbara came into the shop three years ago, feeling much as you do today,” explained the clerk.  “She thought she had very little to be thankful for.  She had just lost her father; the family business was failing; her son had gotten into drugs; and she was facing major surgery.  That same year I had lost my husband,” continued the clerk. “For the first time in my life, I had to spend the holidays alone.  I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too much debt to allow any travel.”

“So what did you do?” asked Sandra.  “I learned to be thankful for thorns,”  answered the clerk quietly. “I’ve always thanked God for the good things in my life and I never questioned Him why those good things happened to me, but when the bad stuff hit, I cried out, ‘Why?  Why me?!’  It took time for me to learn that the dark times are important to our faith!  I have always en joyed the ‘flowers’ of my life, but it took the thorns to show me the beauty of God’s comfort!

You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we’re afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others.”  Sandra sucked in her breath, as she thought about what her friend had tried to tell her.  “I guess the truth is I don’t want comfort. I’ve lost a baby and I’m angry with God.”

Just then someone else walked in the shop. “Hey, Phil!” the clerk greeted the balding, rotund man.  “My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement . . twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!”  laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.  “Those are for your wife?” asked Sandra incredulously. “Do you mind telling me why she wants a bouquet that looks like that?”   “Four years ago, my wife and I nearly divorced,”  Phil replied. “  After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord’s grace and guidance, we trudged through problem after problem, the Lord rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she had learned from “thorny” times.   That was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific “problem” and give thanks for what that problem taught us.”

As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra , “I highly recommend the Special!”  “I don’t know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life” Sandra said to the clerk.  “It’s all too… fresh.”  “Well,” the clerk replied carefully,  “my experience has shown me that the thorns make the roses more precious.  We treasure God’s providential care more during trouble than at any other time.

Remember that it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love….Don’t resent the thorns.”  Tears rolled down Sandra’s cheeks.  For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on her resentment.  “I’ll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please,” she managed to choke out.   “I hoped you would,” said the clerk gently. “I’ll have them ready in a minute.”    “Thank you. What do I owe you?”  “Nothing…Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart…The first year’s arrangement is always on me.”  The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra.

“I’ll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first.”  It read: “Dear God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns.  Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns.  Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain.   Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant.”

Remember – Every Rose Has Its Thorn – Praise Him for the roses; thank Him for the thorns.  With an attitude of gratitude may the Lord bless you this Thanksgiving Season.

Freedom of America

Freedom of Opportunity: America is a land of open doorways to achievement and success.

Freedom to Grow: In America a man has the freedom to make the most of his potentialities;  little men may become giants.

Freedom of Friendship: In America a man may choose his friends from any class, creed, or race – there are no barriers to friendship.

Freedom of Enterprise: In America every man has a chance to grow.

Freedom of Travel: There are no boundaries or borders to restrict the free travel of Americans.

Freedom of Trial by Jury: In America a man is innocent until proven guilty.

Freedom of Expression: In America a man may speak out for the things he believes in, without fear of suppression.

Freedom from Fear: In America faith transcends fear and people are free to pursue the happy way of life.

Freedom of Thought: In America a man is free to seek to read, to listen, to hear all sides, and make up his own mind.

Freedom of Ballot: Use of the power of the Ballot is the privilege and responsibility for free Americans.

Freedom from Want: Americans bow their heads in thankfulness for the Gifts of God.

Freedom of Religion: In America a man may worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience.

- Sunshine Magazine 1954 –

Take Time this 4th of July to Remember the American heroes that have given us the opportunity for Freedom!

Financial Freedom

Happy Mothers Day – This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf saying,  “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.”  Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can’t be comforted.  This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.  And all the mothers who DON’T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never hold.   And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors. And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.   And that when their kids asked, “Did you see me, Mom?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner.  And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies.  And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn’t find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year.  And then read it again. “Just one more time.”

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school.  And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home — or even away at college ~ or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up.  Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.  And for all the mothers who bite their lips when their teenager dyes their hair green.

This is for all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.  For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience?  Compassion?  Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?  The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?  Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation… And mature mothers learning to let go.  For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.  Single mothers and married mothers.  Mothers with money, mothers without.  This is for you all.

Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can. Tell them every day that we love them.  And pray and never stop being a mom..

“Home is what catches you when you fall – and we all fall.”  To all You wonderful mothers out there – A Happy Happy Mother’s Day!!!

Work from Home Moms

Everything I Need to Know,

I Learned from the Easter Bunny…

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

Walk softly and carry a big carrot.

Everyone needs a friend who is all ears.

There’s no such thing as too much candy.

All work and no play can make you a basket case.

A cute little tail attracts a lot of attention.

Everyone is entitled to a bad hare day.

Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits.

Some body parts should be floppy
Keep your paws off other people’s jellybeans.

Good things come in small-sugar-coated packages.

The grass is greener in someone Else’s basket.

An Easter bonnet can cover the wildest hare.

To show your true colors, you have to come out of your shell.
The best things in life are still sweet and gooey.

Happy Easter Everyone – Hope Some Bunny Loves You!

Debt Solutions

For Valentines Day my husband gave me the most beautiful card!  The message is priceless!  We have been married 30+ years!

You’re the Love of My Life!

Sometimes I can barely believe my good luck to be sharing my life with you……

I am truly a lucky man

to have your trust,

your friendship, and your love.

I know it takes some work

and compromise

to make a marriage last,

and yet I still feel incredibly lucky

to have found someone

who I can love more each day,

who I keep falling in love with

over and over

as our partnership deepens

through the years.

The world may change around us,

but that doens’t worry me,

because I married

the love of my life -

and that makes me

the luckiest man alive.

Happy Valentines Day Honey!

Thank You Hallmark for making such beautiful cards!!!

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