The Final Toll

Sleep came hard for me last night. Earlier that evening, Cynthia and I had read together a letter from our long-time friend Wally Norling, who had just returned from the bedside of Betty, his “loving partner in life for forty-two years.” Betty is dying of cancer of the liver, and Wally’s letter, written in the midst of that, was a gracious, understated masterpiece of faith.

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Stresses That Fracture

Stress: that confusion created when one’s mind overrides the body’s desire to choke the living daylights out of some jerk who desperately needs it. No, you won’t find that definition in the dictionary, but right now, I think it should be. It’s been one of those weeks. Know what I mean?

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Admitting Need

Asking for help is smart. So why don’t we? You want to know why? Pride. Which is nothing more than stubborn unwillingness to admit need. The result? Impatience. Irritation. Anger. Longer hours. Less and less laughter. No vacations. Inflexibility. Longer and longer gaps between meaningful times in God’s Word. Precious few (if any) moments in prayer and prolonged meditation.

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Think It Over

“Be anxious for nothing [in other words, stop worrying about anything], but in everything by prayer and supplication [in addition, start praying about everything] with thanksgiving [and don’t forget to be thankful in all things] let your requests be made known to God. And . . .

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Promises, Promises

God’s Book is a veritable storehouse of promises—over seven thousand of them. Not just eloquently worded thoughts that make you feel warm all over, but verbal guarantees in writing, signed by the Creator Himself, in which He declares He will do or will refrain from doing specific things.

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Them Bones, Them Bones

Duffy Daugherty, a colorful Michigan State football coach in years past, used to say that you needed only three bones to journey successfully through life: a wishbone, to dream on . . . a backbone, for strength and courage to get through the tough times . . . and a funny bone, to laugh at life along the way. Not bad advice.

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Think It Over

A bazaar was held in a village in northern India. Everyone brought his wares to trade and sell. One old farmer brought in a whole covey of quail. He had tied a string around one leg of each bird. The other ends of all the strings were tied to a ring which fit loosely over a central stick. He had taught the quail to walk dolefully in a circle, around and around, like mules at a sugarcane mill. Nobody seemed interested in buying the birds until a devout Brahman came along.

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Giving Yourself Permission

Back when I was in grade school, it was always a special treat when the teacher gave the class permission to do something unusual. I remember one hot and humid Houston afternoon when she gave everyone permission to go barefoot after lunch. We got to pull off our socks, stick ’em in our sneakers, and wiggle our toes all we wanted to. During the afternoon recess that extra freedom added great speed to our softball game on the playground.

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The Potter and the Clay

By now in our Christian walk we hardly need the reminder that life is not a cloud-nine utopia. It is a terribly unrealistic view to think that Christ helps you live happily ever after; it’s downright unbiblical! Most of life is learning and growing, falling and getting back up, forgiving and forgetting, accepting and going on.

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Handwriting

There is nothing quite like the charm and personal touch conveyed by a handwritten note. Since our penmanship, like our fingerprint, is altogether unique, each curve of the letter or stroke of the pen bears its own originality. There is personality and warmth and, yes, special effort too; for, after all, it’s much more efficient to click on the PC, bang out a few lines on the keyboard, and print it.

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