A group of graduates, well established in their careers, were talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired. During their visit, the conversation turned to complaints about stress in their work and lives. Offering his guests hot chocolate, the professor went into the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and an assortment of cups -porcelain, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the hot chocolate. When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said: "Notice that all the nice looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that you're drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup; but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each others cups. Now consider this: Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life. The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of life you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate God has provided us. God makes the hot chocolate, man chooses the cups. The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything that they have. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. And enjoy your hot chocolate.
I have been getting some really thought provoking items forwarded to me in my email. I especially liked this one as it make several very good points. All too often we get caught up in selfishness and what "it" looks like from the outside. What we need to be concerned with is happiness and what is on the inside.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
A New Beginning!
As 2008 started I was wondering if 2008 was just going to be a continuation of 2007. We started the year with more hospitalizations but thankfully both my aunt and my sister's mother-in-law are both home and recuperating nicely. Further glad tidings came on Wednesday, as my husband will not have to have surgery on his neck but instead will only have to face therapy and possibly a series of shots. God is Good!!! My dad, who had faced a setback after he had an infection settle in a gland in his jaw area is also recovering and his attitude toward therapy and recovery has turned a positive corner. Again God is Very Good!!! I never doubted God but I was wondering what was going on. I sometimes wonder if I am doing it right when I carry on a nearly continuous conversation in my head with God. I wonder if a psychologist would dub me "tetched" but I think I would go nuts without all those talks. In the midst of all this "stuff" his voice kept telling me "it's no big deal" and "it will all be ok". I guess even better than hearing all this is the fact that I really heard Him and believed it.
All I can say after that is that I want to be like Kevin. I want to find the simple joys in life and know that God lives under my bed.
Right now, my husband and I are on a hunt for a new church home. We have visited a few but none have been quite right yet. We have some specific things we are looking for but I am especially looking for God to say "this one's it, this one is home !" The best thing is that I know He will tell us when we finally find the church He is waiting for us to find.
A friend sent me this - I don't know where it came from and I don't know who wrote it but I want to share it with you.
GOD LIVES UNDER THE BED
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, a nd 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 hav e 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!
A friend sent me this - I don't know where it came from and I don't know who wrote it but I want to share it with you.
GOD LIVES UNDER THE BED
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, a nd 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 hav e 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!
All I can say after that is that I want to be like Kevin. I want to find the simple joys in life and know that God lives under my bed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
