THANK GOD FOR MY CHILDREN

My husband and I had been happily (most of the time) married for five years but hadn't been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious praying and promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a perfect mother, love it with all my heart and raise it with his word as my guide.

God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son. The next year God blessed us with another son. The following year, he blessed us with yet another son. The year after that, we were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd been blessed right into poverty. We now had four children, and the oldest was only four years old. I learned never to ask God for anything unless I meant it. As a minister once told me, "If you pray for rain make sure you carry an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children each day as they lay in their cribs. I was off to a good start. God had entrusted me with four children and I didn't want to disappoint him.

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding when they started a hotel for homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a blanket to see how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the mess. In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand diapers, never eating a hot meal and never sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time, I still thank God daily for my
Children.

While I couldn't keep my promise to be a perfect mother - I didn't even come close - I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were going to church to worship God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to "wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us everlasting life, and my son thought it was generous of God to give us his "last wife."

My proudest moment came during the children's Christmas pageant. My daughter was playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds and my youngest son was a wise man. This was their
moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We found the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes." But he was nervous and said, "The baby was wrapped in wrinkled clothes." My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes."

A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing. I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying,
"Mama-mama." Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt at the manger and announced, "We are the three wise men, and we are bringing gifts of gold, common sense and
fur."

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got a standing ovation. "I've never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one," laughed the pastor, wiping tears from his eyes. "For the rest of mylife, I'll never hear the Christmas story without thinking of gold, common sense and fur."

"My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest blessing," I said as I dug through my purse for an aspirin.

Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.

Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher.

Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.

Had no army, yet kings feared Him.

He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.

He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.

He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.

Feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us.

If you believe in God and in Jesus Christ His Son, send this to
all on your buddy list.

GOD BLESS YOU ALL

  THIS WAS HER STORY

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75
cents in my pocket.Their father was gone.

The boys ranged from three months to seven years;
their sister was two.

Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.
Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel
driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.
He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.

Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no
food either.
If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I
certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best
homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to
find a job.
The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small
town.
No luck.
The kids
stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince
whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to
have a job.

Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was
an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in t hat had been converted to a truck stop.
It was called the Big Wheel.
An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window
from time to time at all those kids.
She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the
morning.

She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for
people.

I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night.

She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep.

This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.
That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all
thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home
with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every
night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage.
The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons
and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again
every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found
four tires in the back seat. New tires!
There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.

Had angels taken up residence in Indiana ? I wondered.

I made a deal with the local service station.

In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office.

I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him
to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough..

Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no
money for toys for the kids.

I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old
toys. Then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa
to deliver on Christmas morning.
Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the
boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking ! coffee in the Big
Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper
named Joe.

A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were
dropping nickels in the pinball machine.

The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the
morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning,
to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with
boxes of all shapes and sizes.

I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the
front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box.
Inside was whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10!

I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans..

Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and
bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and
canned vegetables and potatoes.

There was pudding and Jell-

O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was hole bag of laundry
supplies and cleaning items.
And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.
As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most
amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.
And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that
precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung
out at the Big Wheel truck stop....
THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three
answers to prayer:
1.. "Yes!"
2. "Not yet."
3. "I have something better in mind."

God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar.

You maybe going through a tough time right now but
God is getting ready to bless you in a way that you cannot imagine.

This prayer is powerful, and prayer is one of the best gifts we receive.
There is no cost but a lot of rewards.
Let's continue to pray for one another. Here is the prayer:....

Father, I ask You to bless my friends, relatives and lessthanfour buddies reading
this right now. Show them a new
revelation of Your love and power.
Amen.