Reflections

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation. They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don't believe that God exists." "Why do you say that?" asked the customer. "Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving a God who would allow all of these things." The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop,! he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt...

I read of a man who was involved in a tragic accident. He lost both legs and his left arm and only a finger and thumb remained on the right hand. But he still possessed a brilliant mind, enriched with a good education and broadened with world travel. At first he thought there was nothing he could do but remain a helpless sufferer. A thought came to him. It was always nice to receive letters, but why not write them--he could still use his right hand with some difficulty. But to whom could be right? Was there anyone shut-in and incapacitated like he was who could be encouraged by his letters? He thought of men in prison--they did have some hope of release, whereas he had none--but it was worth a try. He wrote to a Christian organization concerned with prison ministry. He was told that his letters could not be answered because it was against prison rules, but he still decided to commence this one-sided correspondence. He wrote twice a week, and it taxed his strength to the limit...

M - O - T - H - E - R "M" is for the million things she gave me, "O" means only that she's growing old, "T" is for the tears she shed to save me, "H" is for her heart of purest gold; "E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining, "R" means right, and right she'll always be, Put them all together, they spell"MOTHER," A word that means the world to me. Howard Johnson (c. 1915)