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An elderly Carpenter was ready to retire. He told his Employer-Contractor of his plans to leave the house building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.
The Contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The Carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end his career.
When the Carpenter finished his work the builder came to inspect the house, the Contractor handed the front-door key to the Carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you."
What a shock! What a shame! If he had only know he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. Now he had to live in the home he had built none to well.
So it is with us. We build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with a shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now living in the house we have built. If we had realized, we would have done it differently.
Think of yourself as the Carpenter. Think about your house. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build wisely. It is the only life you will ever build. Even if you live it for only one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with dignity. The plaque on the wall says, "Life is a do-it-yourself project."
Who could say it more clearly? Your life today is the result of your attitudes and choices in the past. Your life tommorrow will be the result of your attitudes and choices you make today
A fifth grade teacher in a Christian school asked her class to look at
TV commercials and see if they could use them in some way to communicate
ideas about God. Here are some of the results:
GOD IS LIKE.........
Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others adorned the walls of the family estate. The widowed elder man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world.
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season-a season that he and his son had so looked forward to-would visit his house no longer.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you."
As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his-not to mention his father's-love of fine art. "I'm an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son.
Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task.
True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars of paintings. And then the man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given. During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease the grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector's passing, and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would claim "I have the greatest collection." The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. "Who will open the bidding with $100?", he asked. Minutes passed. No one spoke.
From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and go on to the good stuff." More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer. "Now, who will take the son?" Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That's all I have. I knew the boy, so I'd like to have it." "I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice. Gone." The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and we can bid on these treasures!" The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what's going on here!" The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son gets it all."
Puts things into perspective, doesn't it? Just as those art collectors discovered on that Christmas day, the message is still the same-the love of a Father, a Father whose greatest joy came from His Son who went away and gave His life rescuing others. And because of that Father's love, whoever takes the Son gets it all.
A store owner was tacking a sign above his door that read "Puppies for Sale." Signs like that have a way of attracting small children, and sure enough a little boy appeared under the store owner's sign. "How much are you going to sell the puppies for?" the little boy asked. The store owner replied, "anywhere from $30 to $50." The little boy reached into his pocket and pulled out some change. "I have $2.37" he said. "May I please look at them?" The store owner smiled and whistled and out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his store followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur.
One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, "What's wrong with that little dog?" The store owner explained that the veterinarian had examined the little puppy and had discovered that it didn't have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame. The little boy became excited. "That is the puppy I want to buy." The store owner said, "No, you don't want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I'll just give him to you."
The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the store owner's eyes, pointing his finger, and said, "I don't want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact, I'll give you $2.37 now and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for."
The store owner countered, "You really don't want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies." To his surprise, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the store owner and softly replied, "Well, I don't run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands."
A rich man loved to ride his horse through his vast estate to congratulate himself on his wealth. One day on such a ride, he came upon Hans, an old tenant farmer, who had sat down to eat his lunch in the shade of a great oak tree. Hans' head was bowed as he prayed. When he looked up he said, "Oh, excuse me, sir. I didn't see you. I was giving thanks for my food."
"Humph!" snorted the landowner, noticing the coarse dark bread and cheese constituting the old man's lunch. "If that were all I had to eat, I don't think I would feel like giving thanks." "Oh," replied Hans, "it is quite sufficient. But it is remarkable that you should come by today, sir. I...I feel I should tell you, I had a strange dream just before awakening this morning." "And what did you dream?" the man asked with an amused smile. "It seemed there was beauty and peace all around, and yet I could hear a voice saying, 'the richest man in the valley will die tonight.'" "Dreams!" yelled the landowner. "Nonsense!" And he turned and galloped away.
"Lord, have mercy on his soul if he really is to die so soon," Hans prayed as he watched horse and rider disappear. The rich man could not somehow put the conversation from his mind and that evening he called his doctor. When the doctor arrived, he told him the whole story. "Sounds like a lot of nonsense to me," the doctor said, "but for your peace of mind, let's examine you." A little later, his examination complete, the doctor assured the man that he was strong and healthy. "There's no way you're going to die tonight." The man thanked his doctor and told him how foolish he felt for being upset by an old man's dream.
It was about 7 a.m. the following morning when a messenger arrived at the landowner's door. "It's about old Hans," the messenger said. "He died last night in his sleep."
Who really was the richest man? Jesus said, "What will it profit a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose his soul?" - Mark 8:36
One night while conducting an evangelistic meeting in the Salvation Army Citadel in Chicago, Booth Tucker preached on the sympathy of Jesus. After his message a man approached him and said, "If your wife had just died, like mine has, and your babies were crying for their mother, who would never come back, you would not be saying what you are saying." Tragically, a few days later, the wife of Booth Tucker was killed in a train wreck. Her body was brought to Chicago and carried to the same Citadel for the funeral. After the service the bereaved preacher looked down into the silent face of his wife and then turned to those attending." The other day a man told me I would not speak of the sympathy of Jesus if my wife had just died. If that man is here, I want to tell him that Christ is sufficient. My heart is broken, but it has a song put there by Jesus. I want that man to know that Jesus Christ speaks comfort to me today."
A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. Still groggy from surgery, her husband David held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news.
That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency cesarean to deliver the couple's new daughter, Danae Lu Blessing. At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound and nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs.
"I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could "There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one."
Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Danae would likely face if she survived. She would never walk. She would never talk. She would probably be blind. She would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation And on and on.
"No! No!" was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away. Through the dark hours of morning as Danae held onto life by the thinnest thread, Diana slipped in and out of drugged sleep, growing more and more determined that their tiny daughter would live and live to be a healthy, happy young girl. But David, fully awake and listening to additional dire details of their daughter's chances of ever leaving the hospital alive, much less healthy, knew he must confront his wife with the inevitable.
"David walked in and said that we needed to talk about making funeral arrangements," Diana remembers "I felt so bad for him because he was doing everything, trying to include me in what was going on, but I just wouldn't listen I couldn't listen. I said, "No, that is not going to happen, no way! I don't care what the doctors say Danae is not going to die! One day she will be just fine, and she will be coming home with us!"
As if willed to live by Diana's determination, Danae clung to life hour after hour, with the help of every medical machine and marvel her miniature body could endure. But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana. Because Danae's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially "raw," every lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort- so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love. All they could do, as Danae struggled alone beneath the ultra-violet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl.
There was never a moment when Danae suddenly grew stronger. But as weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there.
At last, when Danae turned two months old, her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later-though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero - Danae went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.
Today, five years later, Danae is a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She shows no signs, whatsoever, of any mental or physical impairments. Simply, she is everything a little girl can be and more-but that happy ending is far from the end of her story.
One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Danae was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing. As always, Danae was chattering non-stop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent.
Hugging her arms across her chest, Danae asked, "Do you smell that?". Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain." Danae closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?" Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet it smells like rain." Still caught in the moment, Danae shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced,"No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."
Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Danae then happily hopped down to play with the other children before the rains came. Her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along.
During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Danae on His chest-and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year
grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his
step faltered. The family ate together at the table. But the elderly
grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas
rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk
spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. We must do
something about Grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled
milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor. So the husband and wife set a
small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of
the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two,
his food was
served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's
direction, sometime
he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple
had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper,
the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked
the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy
responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your
food when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The
words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started
to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what
must be done. That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently
led him back to the
family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the
family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any
longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter what happens how bad it
seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I've
learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles
three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree
lights. I've learned that, regardless of your relationship with your
parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. I've learned
that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." I've
learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that
you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You
need to be able to throw something back. I've learned that if you pursue
happiness, it will elude you. But, if you focus on your family, your
friends, the needs of others, your work and doing the very best you can,
happiness will find you. I've learned that whenever I decide something
with an open
heart, I usually make the right decision. I've learned that even when I
have pains, I don't have to be one. I've learned that every day, you
should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch --
holding hands, a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I've
learned that I still have a lot to learn. I've learned that you should
pass this on to everyone you care about. I just did. Sometimes they just
need a little something to make them smile. People will forget what you
said ... people will forget what you did...but people will never forget
how you made them feel. "It's your space..... Make the most of it!"
"You say you will never forget where you were when you
heard the news On September 11, 2001. Neither will I.
I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with
a man who called his wife to say "Good-Bye." I held
his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace
to say, "Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is
OK...I am ready to go."
I was with his wife when he called as she fed
breakfast to their children. I held her up as she
tried to understand his words and as she realized he
wasn't coming home that night.
I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a
woman cried out to Me for help. "I have been knocking
on the door of your heart for 50 years!" I said. "Of
course I will show you the way home - only believe in
Me now."
I was at the base of the building with the Priest
ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I
took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He
heard my voice and answered.
I was on all four of those planes, in every seat,
with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were
overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers
there, comforting and assuring them that their faith
has saved them.
I was in Texas, Kansas, London. I was standing next
to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you
sense Me?
I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew
every name - ! though not all know Me. Some met Me for
the first time on the 86th floor.
Some sought Me with their last breath.
Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the
smoke and flames; "Come to Me... this way... take my
hand." Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me.
But, I was there.
I did not place you in the Tower that day. You may
not know why, but I do. However, if you were there in
that explosive moment in time, would you have reached
for Me?
September 11, 2001 was not the end of the journey
for you. But someday your journey will end. And I
will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may
be found. Then, at any moment, you know you ! are "ready
to go."
I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.
God
I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and after he had
just finished a rough first day on the job: a flat tire made him lose
an hour of work, his electric drill quit and his ancient one ton truck
refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked
toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small
tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
When opening the door he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned
face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and
gave his wife a kiss.
Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my
curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I
had seen him do earlier.
Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having
troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't
belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them
up on the tree every night when I come home and ask God to take care of
them.
Then in the morning I pick them up again.
Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick 'em
up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night
before."
At first, I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did
wrong, so as to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die. He was out
there sort of like a president.. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I
really didn't know Him. But later on when I met Christ, it seemed as though life
were rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that
Christ was in the back helping me pedal. I don't know just when it was that He
suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since. When I had
control, I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable it was the
shortest distance between two points. But when He took the lead, He knew
delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places at breakneck
speeds. It was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He
said, "Pedal!" I worried and was
anxious and asked, "Where are you taking me?" He laughed and didn't answer, and
I started to learn to trust. I forgot my boring life and entered into the
adventure, and when I'd say, "I'm scared," He'd lean back and touch my hand. I
gained love, peace, acceptance and joy; gifts to take on my journey, My Lord's
and mine... And we were off again. He said, "Give the gifts away. They're extra
baggage, too much weight." So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in
giving I received, and still our burden was light. I did not trust Him, at
first, in control of my life. I thought He'd wreck it; but he knows bike
secrets, knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners, knows how to jump to
clear high rocks, knows how to fly to shorten, scary passages. And I am learning
to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I'm beginning to enjoy the
view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion, Jesus
Christ. And when I'm sure! I just can't do it anymore, He just smiles and
says... "Pedal."
One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the
country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live.
They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a
very poor family.
On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?"
"It was great, Dad."
"Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked.
"Oh yeah," said the son.
"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.
The son answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four.
We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek
that has no end.
We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.
Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.
We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our
sight.
We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.
We buy our food, but they grow theirs.
We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect
them."
The boy's father was speechless.
Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."
Isn't perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we
all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don't
have.
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
those important to him. 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,"
Time has a way of getting away from all of us...TAKE THE TIME...NOW.
ON THANKSGIVING, WE CAN BE THANKFUL FOR MUCH
THE CHILD WHO IS NOT CLEANING HIS ROOM, BUT IS WATCHING TV, BECAUSE THAT MEANS HE IS AT HOME AND NOT ON THE STREETS.
FOR THE TAXES THAT I PAY, BECAUSE IT MEANS THAT I AM EMPLOYED.
FOR THE MESS TO CLEAN AFTER A PARTY, BECAUSE IT MEANS THAT I HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS.
FOR THE CLOTHES THAT FIT A LITTLE TOO SNUG, BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE ENOUGH TO EAT.
FOR MY SHADOW THAT WATCHES ME WORK, BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM IN THE SUNSHINE.
FOR A LAWN THAT NEEDS MOWING, WINDOWS THAT NEED CLEANING, AND GUTTERS THAT AND NEED FIXING, BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE A HOME.
FOR ALL THE COMPLAINTS I HEAR ABOUT THE GOVERNMENT, BECAUSE IT MEANS THAT WE HAVE FREEDOM OF SPEECH.
FOR THE PARKING SPOT I FIND AT THE FAR END OF THE PARKING LOT, BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM CAPABLE OF WALKING AND THAT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH TRANSPORTATION.
FOR MY HUGE HEATING BILL, BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM WARM.
FOR THE LADY BEHIND ME IN CHURCH THAT SINGS OFF KEY, BECAUSE SE IT MEANS THAT I CAN HEAR.
FOR THE PILE OF LAUNDRY AND IRONING, BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE CLOTHES TO WEAR.
FOR WEARINESS AND ACHING MUSCLES AT THE END OF THE DAY, BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE BEEN CAPABLE OF WORKING HARD.
FOR THE ALARM THAT GOES OF IN THE EARLY MORNING HOURS, BECAUSE IT MEANS THAT I AM ALIVE.
AND FINALLY
THE PARTNER WHO HOGS THE COVERS EVERY NIGHT, BECAUSE HE/SHE IS NOT OUT WITH SOMEONE ELSE.
FOR TOO MUCH E‑MAIL, BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARE THINKING OF ME.