A New Body...

- Dick Underwood 2008

God has provided a physical body with which to live this physical life, but eventually, through age, infirmity, injury or illness, our body becomes so worn or damaged that it is no longer capable of sustaining our life.
At that moment, God allows us to lay our physical bodies down, and he provides us with a new, Spiritual, Body.
Our physical body is confined by time.
We are confined to our physical limits.
We only get a fleeting glimpse of things spiritual.
Our new, Spiritual, Body has no limits.
We are able to see the fullness of Spiritual things.
The fullness of God's love.
The fullness of God's joy.
The fullness of God's peace.
So we are not sad because of the death of our loved one.
We are sad because of our loss, not theirs.
Within the limits of your physical bodies,
within the limits of your physical experience,
I pray that you will receive a glimpse of
the love, joy, and peace of God
that now surrounds and in-fills your loved one.

If Tears Could Build A Stairway

If tears could build a stairway
and thoughts a memory lane
I'd walk right up to heaven
and bring you home again
No Farewell words were spoken
No time to say good-bye
You were gone before I knew it
And only God knows why.

My heart's still active in sadness
And secret tears still flow
What it meant to lose you
No one can ever know.
But now I know you want us
To mourn for you no more
To remember all the happy times
Life still has much in store.

Since you'll never be forgotten
I pledge to you today
A hallowed place within my heart
Is where you'll always stay.

God knows why, with chilling touch,
Death gathers those we love so much,
And what now seems so strange and dim,
Will all be clear, when we meet Him.
I Knew you for a Moment

A funeral poem for son

Son, it isn't right that you,
Should have died before your Pa;
Or that you should go to Heaven,
before your loving Ma.
But God knows best,
And He has taken you to be His own;
And now you sit beside Him,
on His gold encrusted throne.
We always thought that we would go,
Before our loving Son;
But you went first, before your life
had really just begun.
And so we mourn what may have been,
The promises denied.
We never will forget the
Fateful day that our Son died.
We'll celebrate your birthdays,
Although you won't be there;
And we'll mourn the passing years,
As we see your empty chair.
And one day, Son, you'll meet again,
Your loving Ma and Pa;
And we'll be united,
On that shinning heavenly star.
But till then we'll remember,
Each empty passing year;
How you brought joy and happiness,
And laughter, and a tear.
You made our lives complete,
And they're empty now you've gone.
But we never will forget you,
Our ever loving Son.

© 2010 Dick Underwood

The Grain

I took up a handful of grain

and let it slip

flowing through my fingers.

I said to myself,

"This is what it is all about.

There is no longer

any room for pretence.

At harvest time,

the essence is revealed

the straw and chaff

are set aside,

they have done their job.

The grain alone matters -

sacks of pure gold.

So it is when a person dies

the essence of that

person is revealed.

At the moment of death

a person's character

stands out happy

for the person who has

forged it well over the years.

Then it will not be the

great achievement

that will matter, nor,

how much money

or possessions

a person has amassed.

These like the

straw and the chaff,

will be left behind.

It is what

he has made of himself

that will matter.

Death can take away

from us what we have,

but it cannot rob us

of who we are.

I Wish You Enough

- Bob Perks

Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together at an airport terminal. They had announced her departure and standing near the security gate, they hugged and he said, "I love you. I wish you enough." She in turn said, "Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy."
They kissed and she left. He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say goodbye to someone knowing it would be forever?"
"Yes, I have," I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.
So I knew what this man experiencing.
"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever goodbye?" I asked.
"I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, the next trip back would be for my funeral," he said.
"When you were saying goodbye I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I ask what that means?"
He began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more."When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them," he continued and then turning toward me he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.
"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much
bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish enough "Hello's" to get you through the final "Goodbye."
He then began to sob and walked away.
My friends, I wish you enough!

We would ask now of Death

Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said: You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

Khalil Gibran (1883-1931)

Water of Life

King Solomon, very old, was sitting in his garden when he felt someone standing behind him.
He turned, and recognized the Angel of Death.
"I, Solomon, wisest man ever, must also die?", He asked.
"Yes", said the Angel of Death, "unless you drink the water of life, from paradise. Since you are Solomon, I will give you three days to get the water."

Wise Solomon asked his animal friends who would bring water from paradise.
King of birds, the Eagle, volunteered.
On the third day, the Eagle returned with a goblet of water resting on one wing.

Solomon hesitated, and turned to the animals, "Should I drink it?"
They all replied "Yes!"
Again he hesitated. "Who's missing? Not all the animals are here. Where's the fox?"
The Fox was located, and returned, so Solomon asked him "Should I drink, yes or no?"
The Fox said, "Everyone else said 'yes' so why ask me?"
Solomon: "Because you're wisest."
The Fox replied, "Well, I say it's better to die now when everyone will wail, 'Why is he dead?' than to live on until everyone wails 'Why isn't he dead?'.
Wise Solomon made up his mind, and said "Truly you're the wisest. Eagle, take the water back to paradise."

The WaterBeetle Eulogy...

Once, in a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads, there lived a little water beetle in a community of water beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond with few disturbances and interruptions. Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their friend was dead, gone forever.

Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what he had found at the top. When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so warm, that he decided he must take a nap.

 

 

As he slept, his body changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful blue-tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body designed for flying.

So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never known existed. Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended. But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he understood that their time would come, when they, too, would know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off into his joyous new life!

 

Gone Too Soon

- Mary Yarnall

This was a life that had hardly begun
No time to find your place in the sun
No time to do all you could have done
But we loved you enough for a lifetime.
No time to enjoy the world and its wealth
No time to take life down from the shelf
No time to sing the song of yourself
Though you had enough love for a lifetime.
Those who live long endure sadness and tears
But you'll never suffer the sorrowing years
No betrayal, no anger, no hatred, no fears
Just love , only love , in your lifetime

The day we Lost Our Son...

Gregory Edward Whale, Jr.

Our son, Gregory Edward Whale, Jr, was born on September 2, 1991 and for some reason, a reason that we don't know or understand right now, was taken from us on Monday, April 26, 2010 (at 3:22PM) in a tragic car accident.

If we had known that Monday, would have been the last day here on earth for our son, we would have taken time to share more of him with others, so that you would know what a gift from God we were given and understand the loss that we are feeling right now.

Gregory is gone, but will always be a part of us. He is gone, but not forgotten. We know that some day, we will see him again. But now, alone without him, his brothers and the rest of us, must go on. May all of us that knew him, take a small piece of something that he shared with us. Whether it was the way to face life…..or how he would walk into a room and say one word and make us all stop and think of what he just said….yes, even if the word was "Pineapple"

Life handed him so many challenges from day one, but he met every one of them head on, doing it his way no matter what. He lived more in his short 18 Years; 7 Months; 24 Days; 1 Hour; & 31 Minutes here on earth, than most people lived in a lifetime.

He left behind his parents, Gregory & Christina Whale, two brothers, Joseph Whale of Florida and David Whale of Palmyra. Grandparents Deacon & Mrs. William Whale of Florida and grandmother, Mrs. Ruth Back of Harrisburg; 5 aunts, 3 uncles, 10 cousins and loads and loads of other relatives who will miss him beyond words.

He was homeschooled and graduated at the age of 16 and went on to attend Daytona State College in Florida and then Harrisburg Area Community College where he was studying to be a nurse, so that he could help others. In between going to school and studying he also found time to work at Arby's Restaurant and spend time with friends.

Saying goodbye is something we just can't do right now, so we are going to have a memorial service to celebrate his life at 10 a.m., on Saturday, May 1, 2010 at Jesse H. Geigle Funeral home at 2100 Linglestown Road, Harrisburg. There will be a visitation from 9 a.m. until 10 a.m in the funeral home.

In lieu of flowers, we would be honored if you would make Memorial Contributions to John Hopkins University, ECMO Department, 600 N. Wolfe St., Baltimore, MD 21287, where Greggy first started showing us how much determination and strength he really had.

And then you may leave condolences at the following online Legacy page.

http://www.legacy.com/guestbook/pennlive/guestbook.aspx?n=gregory-whale&pid=142333529

Who Am I?

I was born in one country, raised in another.

My father was born in another country.

I was not his only child.

He fathered several children with numerous women.

I became very close to my mother, as my father showed no interest in me.

My mother died at an early age from cancer.

Although my father deserted me and my mother raised me, I later wrote a book idolizing my father not my mother.

Later in life, questions arose over my real name.

My birth records were sketchy.

No one was able to produce a legitimate, reliable birth certificate.

I grew up practicing one faith but converted to Christianity, as it was widely accepted in my new country, but I practiced non-traditional beliefs and didn't follow Christianity, except in the public eye under scrutiny.

I worked and lived among lower-class people as a young adult, disguising myself as someone who really cared about them.

That was before I decided it was time to get serious about my life and embarked on a new career.

I wrote a book about my struggles growing up.

It was clear to those who read my memoirs, that I had difficulties accepting that my father abandoned me as a child.

I became active in local politics in my 30's then, with help behind the scenes, I literally burst onto the scene as a candidate for national office in my 40s.

They said I had a golden tongue and could talk anyone into anything.

I had a virtually non-existent resume, little work history, and no experience in leading a single organization.

Yet I was a powerful speaker and citizens were drawn to me, as though I were a magnet and they were small roofing tacks.

I drew incredibly large crowds during my public appearances.

This bolstered my ego.

At first, my political campaign focused on my country's foreign policy...

I was very critical of my country in the last war, and seized every opportunity to bash my country.

But what launched my rise to national prominence were my views on the

country's economy.

I pretended to have a really good plan on how we could do better, and every poor person would be fed and housed for free.

I knew which group was responsible for getting us into this mess.

It was the free market, banks and corporations.

I decided to start making citizens hate them and, if they became envious of others who did well, the plan was clinched tight.

I called mine "A People's Campaign".

That sounded good to all people.

I was the surprise candidate because I emerged from outside the traditional path of politics and was able to gain widespread popular support.

I knew that, if I merely offered the people 'hope', together we could change our country and the world.

So, I started to make my speeches sound like they were on behalf of the downtrodden, poor, ignorant to include "persecuted minorities".

My true views were not widely known and I kept them unknown, until after I became my nation's leader.

I had to carefully guard reality, as anybody could have easily found out what I really believed, if they had simply read my writings and examined those people I associated with. I'm glad they didn't.

Then I became the most powerful man in the world.

And then the world learned the truth.

Who am I?

ADOLPH HITLER

If you were thinking of SOMEONE ELSE, you should be scared, very scared!

A life without left turns

By Michael Gartner

My father never drove a car. Well, that's not quite right. I should say I never saw him drive a car. He quit driving in 1927, when he was 25 years old, and the last car he drove was a 1926 Whippet.

'In those days,' he told me when he was in his 90s, 'to drive a car you had to do things with your hands, and do things with your feet, and look every which way, and I decided you could walk through life and enjoy it or drive through life and miss it.'

At which point my mother, a sometimes salty Irishwoman, chimed in: 'Oh, bull----!' she said. 'He hit a horse.'

'Well,' my father said, 'there was that, too.'

So my brother and I grew up in a household without a car. The neighbors all had cars -- the Kollingses next door had a green 1941 Dodge, the VanLaninghams across the street a gray 1936 Plymouth, the Hopsons two doors down a black 1941 Ford -- but we had none.

My father, a newspaperman in Des Moines, would take the streetcar to work and, often as not, walk the 3 miles home. If he took the streetcar home, my mother and brother and I would walk the three blocks to the streetcar stop, meet him and walk home together. My brother, David, was born in 1935, and I was born in 1938, and sometimes, at dinner, we'd ask how come all the neighbors had cars but we had none. 'No one in the family drives,' my mother would explain, and that was that.

Sometimes, my father would say, 'But as soon as one of you boys turns 16, we'll get one.' It was as if he wasn't sure which one of us would turn 16 first.

But, sure enough, my brother turned 16 before I did, so in 1951 my parents bought a used 1950 Chevrolet from a friend who ran the parts department at the local Chevy dealership.

It was a four-door, white model, stick shift, fender skirts, loaded with everything, and, since my parents didn't drive, it more or less became my brother's car.

Having a car but not being able to drive didn't bother my father, but it didn't make any sense to my mother.

So in 1952, when she was 43 years old, she asked a friend to teach her to drive.

She learned in a nearby cemetery, the place where I learned to drive the following year and where, a generation later, I took my two sons to practice driving. The cemetery probably was my father's idea. 'Who can your mother hurt in the cemetery?' I remember him saying many times.

For the next 45 years or so, until she was 90, my mother was the driver in the family. Neither she nor my father had any sense of direction, but he loaded up on maps -- though they seldom left the city limits -- and appointed himself navigator. It seemed to work.

Still, they both continued to walk a lot. My mother was a devout Catholic, and my father an equally devout agnostic, an arrangement that didn't seem to bother either of them through their 75 years of marriage.

(Yes, 75 years, and they were deeply in love the entire time.)

He retired when he was 70, and nearly every morning for the next 20 years or so, he would walk with her the mile to St. Augustin's Church. She would walk down and sit in the front pew, and he would wait in the back until he saw which of the parish's two priests was on duty that morning. If it was the pastor, my father then would go out and take a 2-mile walk, meeting my mother at the end of the service and walking her home. If it was the assistant pastor, he'd take just a 1-mile walk and then head back to the church. He called the priests 'Father Fast' and 'Father Slow.'

After he retired, my father almost always accompanied my mother whenever she drove anywhere, even if he had no reason to go along. If she were going to the beauty parlor, he'd sit in the car and read, or go take a stroll or, if it was summer, have her keep the engine running so he could listen to the Cubs game on the radio. In the evening, then, when I'd stop by, he'd explain: 'The Cubs lost again. The millionaire on second base made a bad throw to the millionaire on first base, so the multimillionaire on third base scored.'

If she were going to the grocery store, he would go along to carry the bags out -- and to make sure she loaded up on ice cream.. As I said, he was always the navigator, and once, when he was 95 and she was 88 and still driving, he said to me, 'Do you want to know the secret of a long life?'

'I guess so,' I said, knowing it probably would be something bizarre.

'No left turns,' he said.

'What?' I asked.

'No left turns,' he repeated. 'Several years ago, your mother and I read an article that said most accidents that old people are in happen when they turn left in front of oncoming traffic. As you get older, your eyesight worsens, and you can lose your depth perception, it said. So your mother and I decided never again to make a left turn.'

'What?' I said again.

'No left turns,' he said. 'Think about it. Three rights are the same as a left, and that's a lot safer. So we always make three rights.'

'You're kidding!' I said, and I turned to my mother for support.

'No,' she said, 'your father is right. We make three rights. It works.'

But then she added: 'Except when your father loses count.'

I was driving at the time, and I almost drove off the road as I started laughing.

'Loses count?' I asked.

'Yes,' my father admitted, 'that sometimes happens. But it's not a problem. You just make seven rights, and you're okay again.'

I couldn't resist. 'Do you ever go for 11?' I asked.

'No,' he said ' If we miss it at seven, we just come home and call it a bad day. Besides, nothing in life is so important it can't be put off another day or another week.'

My mother was never in an accident, but one evening she handed me her car keys and said she had decided to quit driving. That was in 1999, when she was 90.

She lived four more years, until 2003. My father died the next year, at 102.

They both died in the bungalow they had moved into in 1937 and bought a few years later for $3,000.

Sixty years later, my brother and I paid $8,000 to have a shower put in the tiny bathroom -- the house had never had one. My father would have died then and there if he knew the shower cost nearly three times what he paid for the house.

Anyway, my father continued to walk daily -- he had me get him a treadmill when he was 101 because he was afraid he'd fall on the icy sidewalks but wanted to keep exercising -- and he was of sound mind and sound body until the moment he died.

One September afternoon in 2004, he and my son went with me when I had to give a talk in a neighboring town, and it was clear to all three of us that he was wearing out, though we had the usual wide-ranging conversation about politics and newspapers and things in the news and more politics.

A few weeks earlier, he had told my son, 'You know, Mike, the first hundred years are a lot easier than the second hundred.' At one point in our drive that Saturday, he said, 'You know, I'm probably not going to live much longer.'

'You're probably right,' I said.

'Why would you say that?' He countered, somewhat irritated.

'Because you're 102 years old,' I said.

'Yes,' he said, 'you're right.' He stayed in bed all the next day.

That night, I suggested to my son and daughter that we sit up with him through the night.

He appreciated it, he said, though at one point, apparently seeing us look gloomy, he said: 'I would like to make an announcement. No one in this room is dead yet.'

An hour or so later, he spoke his last words:

'I want you to know,' he said, clearly and lucidly, 'that I am in no pain. I am very comfortable. And I have had as happy a life as anyone on this earth could ever have.'

A short time later, he died.

I miss him a lot, and I think about him a lot. I've wondered now and then how it was that my family and I were so lucky that he lived so long. I can't figure out if it was because he walked through life, or because he quit taking left turns.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about the one's who don't. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.

Thanks For Your Time!

ONCE YOU READ THIS YOU WILL UNDERSTAND!

A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door. It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him. Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said. "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him. "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important. Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away. The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture. Jack stopped suddenly...

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked. "The box is gone," he said "What box?" Mom asked. "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read. Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:

"Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most was... my time"

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away,"

Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true.

1. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.

2. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.

3. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.

4. You mean the world to someone.

5. If not for you, someone may not be living.

 

6. You are special and unique.

7. When you think you have no chance of getting what you want, you probably won't get it, but if you trust God to do what's best, and wait on His time, sooner or later, you will get it or something better.

8. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good can still come from it.

9. When you think the world has turned its back on you, take a look: you most likely turned your back on the world.

10. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you.

11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.

12. Always tell someone how you feel about them; you will feel much better when they know and you'll both be happy.

13. If you have a great friend, take the time to let them know that they are great.

14. When things get tougher than you would like them: PRAY & MEDITATE! Because, they Really Do Work!

To everyone who reads this:

Thanks for your time!

God and the Spider

During World War II, a US marine was separated from his unit on a Pacific island. The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the crossfire he had lost touch with his comrades.

Alone in the jungle, he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction. Scrambling for cover, he found his way up a high ridge to several small caves in the rock. Quickly he crawled inside one of the caves. Although safe for the moment, he realized that once the enemy soldiers looking for him swept up the ridge, they would quickly search all the caves and he would be killed.

As he waited, he prayed, "Lord, if it be your will, please protect me. Whatever your will though, I love you and trust you. Amen." After praying, he lay quietly listening to the enemy begin to draw close. He thought, "Well, I guess the Lord isn't going to help me out of this one." Then he saw a spider begin to build a web over the front of his cave. As he watched, listening to the enemy searching for him all the while, the spider layered strand after strand of web across the opening of the cave.

"Hah, he thought. "What I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent me is a spider web. God does have a sense of humor."

As the enemy drew closer he watched from the darkness of his hideout and could see them searching one cave after another. As they came to his, he got ready to make his last stand. To his amazement, however, after glancing in the direction of his cave, they moved on. Suddenly, he realized that with the spider web over the entrance, his cave looked as if no one had entered for quite a while.

"Lord, forgive me," prayed the young man. "I had forgotten that in you a spider's web is stronger than a brick wall."

We all face times of great trouble. When we do, it is so easy to forget what God can work in our lives, sometimes in the most surprising ways. And remember with God, a mere spider's web becomes a brick wall of protection.

Our Pennsylvania Blizzard...

Here we are, Our First Blizzard

since we moved back to PA!

Through the window Screen!

Snow just kept blowing in!

Here's our Patio!

All the Major Roads are closed

& now I know why!

This would have been the doorway to our building!

Here you can see one of the plows, trying to plow!

At least we know where the steps are

supposed to be!

But how we get over there,

I have No-Clue!

I must say though, It IS BEAUTIFUL!

It's SO WHITE & BRIGHT!!

It's hard to tell how high the snow actually is!

To Bad I can't push the broom

past the ice from the last storm!

How do people deal with this??

Should we have bought a Shovel??

We can't get out of the Front Door!

We're SNOWED IN...

I Miss Daytona Beach, Florida!!!

Okay, so we had to deal with some Hurricanes,

I think Blizzards are worse!!

Here is my view, from my Desk!

BRRRRRRR...

Yep! We Got Hit Again With More Snow!!

So here are my Photos from this morning...

I'm Sure I'll have more later on...

Just at 10:30, less than 15 minutes ago,

I made sure there wasn't any snow on our porch!

At ONE AM, the Complex Did Shovel

& Snow-Blow the Sidewalks!

Honestly, They Did!!

This weather up in PA, is crazier than Florida!!

Can you see our car?

See the truck? Our car is just Left of it!!

Yep, all you can see is the passanger side mirror!!

Holy Crap! It's Freezing Outside!!

These are all from the Patio Door...

Thank GOD we live in an Apartment,

where they take care of the snow removal for us!!

But nobody is out in this stuff right now!

But Wait! Who's gonna take the Garbage out?

I'll go to the bedrooms & grab photos from the windows!

See ya later...