12.28.16 Wacky Wonderful Wednesday



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7-year-old Kayleigh McClendon won’t get to see Christmas this year. At least not from here on earth. But what she did get to see before leaving for Heaven was humanity at its finest. The entire neighborhood came together to honor the sick little girl by decking the street with purple lights — Kayleigh’s favorite color. And it was just in time.

The significance of purple lights

Kayleigh was diagnosed with a brain tumor when she turned seven. Try as they might, doctors just weren’t able to treat the cancer.

Unsure of how much time they had left with their little girl, Kayleigh’s parents decided to decorate early for Christmas. But instead of the traditional colors, they used purple lights. It’s Kayleigh’s favorite color. But more than that, it’s the color that represents brave Kayleigh’s fight with terminal brain cancer.

“For a 7-year-old she’s been tough through all of it. Pokes and prods and tests, and she did every single MRI and CT without sedation. And even for adults, that’s a huge deal,” said her dad. “It blows me away. . . the support we’ve had around us.”

When the neighbors found out what the McClendon family was doing, the whole street chipped in. Within hours, the local stores had sold out of purple lights.

No one knew how long Kayleigh had when they started decorating. But it didn’t matter. Be it a day, a week or several months, everyone was determined to make sure the little girl got the purple Christmas of her dreams.

They covered the entire street in purple lights in honor of the special little girl.

“I think they’ll know, before they get here, they’ll know, OK, we’re on Kayleigh’s street,” her dad said.

God’s perfect timing

As it turns out, the incredible act of kindness took place just in time. Just a few weeks after the neighborhood rallied together to decorate, Kayleigh left to be with the Lord.

Her mom wrote on Facebook:

“At 10:05 this morning our precious girl slipped from earth to eternity. Oh how our hearts are broken. There are no words for the hurt. The void. Yet even now, at our darkest, our God is good.

God granted Kayleigh perfect, beautiful peace. She was not in pain. She was wrapped tightly in my arms with her Daddy by her side as she gently drew her last breath. God was so good to spare us from watching her struggle. And is she is in heaven. Dancing. Twirling. Laughing. Beautiful. Whole. Healthy.”

This faithful family continues to rely on God for strength during this difficult time. We will continue to pray that they find peace in this difficult time. What a blessing that one of the last things Kayleigh got to see was people coming together in kindness.


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This morning I was woken up by someone trying to get me to buzz them into the building.

I ignored the first two buzzers hoping they would go away but the third got me up.

I buzzed them in (we don’t have a working intercom so I couldn’t ask who they were).

Then I stood there waiting looking out the peep hole of the door.

An older gentleman gets to my door and knocks…

I opened asking if I could help him and all he said was, “Are you Karen?”

I told him no, that Karen was my mom and he gave a quick smile and handed me an unmarked envelope and walked away.

I get inside and open it up.“Please accept this gift as an act of random kindness. A cherished member of our family devoted much of her time and resources to helping people through ‘Random Acts Of Kindness’. She gave to others in many ways, and always did so anonymously. One way our family has chosen to honor her memory is to continue in the tradition of helping others in the community with acts of random kindness.

A ‘Random Act Of Kindness’ does not have to involve the giving of money. It can be as simple as sharing your time with someone, lending an ear, or offering a compliment. The most important part is that the act is unsolicited and done with no expectation of anything in return.

Although we do not know you personally, other members of our community identified you as a deserving recipient of this gift. Please use this money in any way you see fit, whether to alleviate some financial

strain or to provide you the opportunity to do something special for yourself.

We ask for nothing in return, but hope that you are encouraged to consider ways in which you can make a difference for someone else, and motivated to embrace the idea, and to carry on the tradition.”

The second I saw the money I sat on the floor. $1,000 from a stranger. I have no clue who the man was and he was gone by the time I got outside.

I called my mom and told her to sit down and read her the letter… she started bawling instantly.

My mom has been battling ovarian cancer for three years now. It has been a very long difficult journey mentally, physically, and financially.

However, this helps more than the giver knows.

They have taken some of that stress away and also given my mom hope and a reason to smile.

So, thank you. Thank you with everything in me and also for for carrying on such an amazing tradition.

Did the anonymous gift-giver know of Karen’s diagnosis or how much they needed this money? We may never know, but one thing’s for sure — this is an story of kindness and faith.








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Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!


Click on the links below to go there!

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12.21.16 Wacky Wonderful Wednesday

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Once upon a time, there was a man who worked very hard just to keep food on the table for his family. This particular year a few days before Christmas, he punished his little five-year-old daughter after learning that she had used up the family’s only roll of expensive gold wrapping paper.

As money was tight, he became even more upset when on Christmas Eve he saw that the child had used all of the expensive gold paper to decorate one shoebox she had put under the Christmas tree. He also was concerned about where she had gotten money to buy what was in the shoebox.

Nevertheless, the next morning the little girl, filled with excitement, brought the gift box to her father and said, “This is for you, Daddy!”

As he opened the box, the father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, now regretting how he had punished her.

But when he opened the shoebox, he found it was empty and again his anger flared. “Don’t you know, young lady,” he said harshly, “when you give someone a present, there’s supposed to be something inside the package!”

The little girl looked up at him with sad tears rolling from her eyes and whispered: “Daddy, it’s not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was all full.”

The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his precious little girl. He begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.

An accident took the life of the child only a short time later. It is told that the father kept this little gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems, he would open the box, take out an imaginary kiss, and remember the love of this beautiful child who had put it there.

In a very real sense, each of us has been given an invisible golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, family, friends and God. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.



THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE, by David G. Stratman

From his book We Can Change the World

Inspirational Christmas Story

It was December 25, 1914, only 5 months into World War I. German, British, and French soldiers, already sick and tired of the senseless killing, disobeyed their superiors and fraternized with “the enemy” along two-thirds of the Western Front (a crime punishable by death in times of war). German troops held Christmas trees up out of the trenches with signs, “Merry Christmas.”

“You no shoot, we no shoot.” Thousands of troops streamed across a no-man’s land strewn with rotting corpses. They sang Christmas carols, exchanged photographs of loved ones back home, shared rations, played football, even roasted some pigs. Soldiers embraced men they had been trying to kill a few short hours before. They agreed to warn each other if the top brass forced them to fire their weapons, and to aim high.

A shudder ran through the high command on either side. Here was disaster in the making: soldiers declaring their brotherhood with each other and refusing to fight. Generals on both sides declared this spontaneous peacemaking to be treasonous and subject to court martial. By March 1915 the fraternization movement had been eradicated and the killing machine put back in full operation. By the time of the armistice in 1918, fifteen million would be slaughtered.

Not many people have heard the story of the Christmas Truce. On Christmas Day, 1988, a story in the Boston Globe mentioned that a local FM radio host played “Christmas in the Trenches,” a ballad about the Christmas Truce, several times and was startled by the effect. The song became the most requested recording during the holidays in Boston on several FM stations. “Even more startling than the number of requests I get is the reaction to the ballad afterward by callers who hadn’t heard it before,” said the radio host. “They telephone me deeply moved, sometimes in tears, asking, ‘What the heck did I just hear?’ ”

You can probably guess why the callers were in tears. The Christmas Truce story goes against most of what we have been taught about people. It gives us a glimpse of the world as we wish it could be and says, “This really happened once.” It reminds us of those thoughts we keep hidden away, out of range of the TV and newspaper stories that tell us how trivial and mean human life is. It is like hearing that our deepest wishes really are true: the world really could be different.


To listen to this inspirational Christmas story in song: click here. It is beautiful to hear it sung!

Words & Music by John McCutcheon, c. 1984

My name is Francis Toliver, I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here,
I fought for King and country I love dear.

‘Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung.
Our families back in England were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground,
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound.
Says I, “Now listen up, me boys!” each soldier strained to hear,
As one young German voice sang out so clear.

“He’s singing bloody well, you know!” my partner says to me.
Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony.
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more,
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent,
“God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” struck up some lads from Kent.
The next they sang was “Stille Nacht,” “‘Tis ‘Silent Night,'” says I,
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.

“There’s someone coming towards us!” the front line sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side.
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright,
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.

Then one by one on either side walked into No Man’s Land,
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand.
We shared some secret brandy and wished each other well,
And in a flare lit soccer game we gave ’em hell.

We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home.
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own.
Young Sanders played his squeezebox and they had a violin,
This curious and unlikely band of men.

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more.
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war.
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night:
“Whose family have I fixed within my sights?”

‘Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung.
For the walls they’d kept between us to exact the work of war,
Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore.

My name is Francis Toliver, in Liverpool I dwell,
Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lessons well,
That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle we’re the same.


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Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!


Click on the links below to go there!

Dora and the Explorers published randomly

Some Things I Learned About Alzheimer’s published randomly

12.14.16 Wacky Wonderful Wednesday



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edeb12f674c7ff6151e8220a1275e250I SMILED, LAUGHED AND GIGGLED AT THIS ONE!

Image may contain: 1 person , people smiling

God sends people into our lives for many reasons, and in many cases, it is in response to a need we have — whether it’s now, or yet to come. No relationship happens in the Kingdom of God by circumstance or without reason, whether it’s to provide friendship, help us through a season of difficulty, provide wisdom or inspire us to stand strong in our faith when we feel weak and unsure.

Lord, thank You for the people You have divinely placed in my life who speak holy truth, love and words of wisdom. Give me a heart of discernment to know when You are using someone to speak instruction into my heart and my circumstances, and give me the strength and courage to follow through with that advice, even when it’s hard. Fill me with peace in knowing that even if I take a wrong turn, Your purpose will prevail.

– Tracie Miles, Author, Proverbs 31 Ministries

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It’s just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas—oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it-overspending…the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma—the gifts given in desperation because you couldn’t think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black.

These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler’s ears.

It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn’t acknowledge defeat.

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, “I wish just one of them could have won,” he said. “They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.”

Mike loved kids-all kids-and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse. That’s when the idea for his present came.

That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church.

On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me.

His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

For each Christmas, I followed the tradition—one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on.

The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal it’s contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn’t end there.

You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad.

The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike’s spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.

May we all remember each other, and the Real reason for the season, and His true spirit this year and always. God bless—pass this along to your friends and loved ones.

1982 by Nancy W. Gavin, Submitted by Edwin G. Whiting

edeb12f674c7ff6151e8220a1275e250THIS WEEK’S FIVE FAVORITE PHOTOS


edeb12f674c7ff6151e8220a1275e250DOGGIES WITH SUNGLASSES!




Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!


Click on the links below to go there!

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12.07.16 Wacky Wonderful Wednesday

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CAPE TOWN, AFRICAaerial-photography-cape-townBURNING MAN in NEVADA 2013aerial-photography-burning-man-2013




Twas the night before Christmas an’ all t’ru de house,
Dey don’t a ting pass Not even a mouse.
De chirren been nezzle good snug on de flo’,
An’ Mama pass de pepper t’ru de crack on de do’.

De Mama in de fireplace done roas’ up de ham,
Sit up de gumbo an’ make de bake yam.
Den out on de by-you dey got such a clatter,
Make soun’ like old Boudreau done fall off his ladder.

I run like a rabbit to got to de do’,
Trip over de dorg an’ fall on de flo’.
As I look out de do’in de light o’ de moon,
I t’ink, “Mahn, you crazy or got ol’ too soon.”

Cux dere on de by-you w’en I stretch ma’neck stiff,
Dere’s eight alligator a pullin’ de skiff.
An’ a little fat drover wit’ a long pole-ing stick,
I know r’at away got to be ole St.Nick.

Mo’ fas’er an’ fas’er de’ gator dey came
He whistle an’ holler an’ call dem by name:
“Ha, Gaston! Ha, Tiboy! Ha, Pierre an’ Alcee’!
Gee, Ninette! Gee, Suzette! Celeste an’Renee’!

To de top o’ de porch to de top o’ de wall,
Make crawl, alligator, an’ be sho’ you don’ fall.”
Like Tante Flo’s cat t’ru de treetop he fly,
W’en de big ole houn’ dorg come a run hisse’s by.

Like dat up de porch dem ole ‘gator clim!
Wit’ de skiff full o’ toy an’ St. Nicklus behin’.
Den on top de porch roof it soun’ like de hail,
W’en all dem big gator, done sot down dey tail.

Den down de chimney I yell wit’ a bam,
An’ St.Nicklus fall an’ sit on de yam.
“Sacre!” he axclaim, “Ma pant got a hole
I done sot ma’se’f on dem red hot coal.”

He got on his foots an’ jump like de cat
Out to de flo’ where he lan’ wit’ a SPLAT!
He was dress in musk-rat from his head to his foot,
An’ his clothes is all dirty wit’ ashes an’ soot.

A sack full o’ playt’ing he t’row on his back,
He look like a burglar an’ dass fo’ a fack.
His eyes how dey shine his dimple, how merry!
Maybe he been drink de wine from de blackberry.

His cheek was like a rose his nose a cherry,
On secon’ t’ought maybe he lap up de sherry.
Wit’ snow-white chin whisker an’ quiverin’ belly,
He shook w’en he laugh like de stromberry jelly!

But a wink in his eye an’ a shook o’ his head,
Make my confi-dence dat I don’t got to be scared.
He don’ do no talkin’ gone strit to hi work,
Put a playt’ing in sock an’ den turn wit’ a jerk.

He put bot’ his han’ dere on top o’ his head,
Cas’ an eye on de chimney an’ den he done said:
“Wit’ all o’ dat fire an’ dem burnin’ hot flame,
Me I ain’ goin’ back by de way dat I came.”

So he run out de do’ an, he clim’ to de roof,
He ain’ no fool, him for to make one more goof.
He jump in his skiff an’ crack his big whip,
De’ gator move down, An don’ make one slip.

An’ I hear him shout loud as a splashin’ he go,
“Merry Christmas to all ’til I saw you some mo’!”

“Laugh and the world will laugh with you.”
Don’t laugh …. go away you are no fun.



QUOTES FROM ANN VOSKAMP, Author of A Holy Experience

Pick up a yardstick to measure your life against anyone else’s, and you’ve just picked up a stick and beaten up your own soul.

I’m not a fast writer at all. I come empty and wait upon the Lord. So it really is all a waiting process, a patient process.

The only thing necessary today — is to let everything else come after keeping company with Him. Just keep company with Jesus. Just keep saying: ‘I trust you, Jesus.’


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Reach out to someone in need this week!

Let others see Jesus in you this week!

Be His light in the darkness this week!

Have a Blessed Week!


Click on the links below to go there!

Dora and the Explorers published randomly

Some Things I Learned About Alzheimer’s published randomly