I grew up in the fifties with practical parents — a Mother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it… A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.

Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dish towel in the other.

It was the time for fixing things — a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there’d always be more.

But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer’s night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn’t any more.

Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away… never to return.

So…while we have it…it’s best we love it…..and care for it…. and fix it when it’s broken….. and heal it when it’s sick. This is true… for marriage…old radios…and old cars… and children with bad report cards… and dogs with bad hips… and aging parents… and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away — or — a classmate we grew up with.

There are just some things that make life important,

like people we know who are special…..and so, we keep them close!

Who are the keepers in your life?

After he had been in the army about five months, he received his call to go to Vietnam. Of course, the parents’ anxiety for his first letter was greater than ever before. And ever week they heard from him and were thankful for his well-being. Then one week went by without a letter ~ two weeks ~ and finally three. At the end of the third week a telegram came, saying, “We regret to inform you that you son has been missing for three weeks and is presumed to have been killed inaction while fighting for his country.”

The parents were shocked and grieved. They tried to accept the situation and go on living, but it was tragically lonesome without Frank.

About three weeks later, however, the phone rang. When Mrs. Creighton answered it, a voice on the other end said, “Mother, it’s Frank. they found me, and I’m going to be all right. I’m in the United States and I’m coming home soon.”

Mrs. Creighton was overjoyed, with tears running down her cheeks she sobbed, “Oh, that’s wonderful! That’s just wonderful, Frank.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Frank said, “Mother I want to ask you something that is important to me. While I’ve been here, I’ve met a lot of wonderful people and I’ve really become close friends with some. There is one fellow I would like to bring home with me to meet you and Dad. And I would like to know if it would be all right if he could stay and live with us, because he has no place to go.”

His mother assured him it would be all right.

Then Frank said, “You see, he wasn’t’ as lucky as some; he was injured in battle. He was hit by a blast and his face is all disfigured. He lost his leg, and his right hand is missing. So you see, he feels uneasy about how others will accept him.”

Frank’s mother stopped to think a minute. She began to wonder how things would work out, and what people in town would think of someone like that. She said, “Sure frank, you bring him home~ for a visit, that is. We would love to meet him and have him stay for a while; but about him staying with us permanently, well, we’ll have to think about that.” There was silence for a minute, and then Frank said, “Okay, Mother,” and hung up.

A week went by without any word from Frank, and then a telegram arrived ~ “We regret to inform you that your son has taken his life. We would like you to come and identify the body.”

Their wonderful son was gone. The horror stricken parents could only ask themselves, “Why had he done this?” When they walked into the room to identify the body of their son, they found a young man with a disfigured face, one leg missing, and his right hand gone.

“This is my grandson, Jeremiah,” he said. “He’s on a life-support system at a Phoenix hospital.”

Thinking he would next ask for a contribution to his hospital bills, I reached for my wallet. But he wanted something more than money.

He said, “I’m asking everybody I can to say a prayer for him. Would you say one for him, please?”

I did. And my problems didn’t seem like much that day.

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, “Will I start to die right away?”

Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give her all his blood.

Dear Mr. James: Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes but my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.

Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.

His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to eke out a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog.

He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.

The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman’s sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.

“I want to repay you,” said the nobleman. “You saved my son’s life.”

“No, I can’t accept payment for what I did,” the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer.

At that moment, the farmer’s own son came to the door of the family hovel.

“Is that your son?” the nobleman asked.

“Yes,” the farmer replied proudly.

“I’ll make you a deal. Let me take him and give him a good education. If the lad is anything like his father, he’ll grow to a man you can be proud of.”

And that he did. In time, Farmer Fleming’s son graduated from St. Mary’s Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.

Years afterward, the nobleman’s son was stricken with pneumonia. What saved him? Penicillin.

The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill. His son’s name? Sir Winston Churchill.

How to Explain God was written by Danny Dutton, age
8, from Chula Vista, California, for his third grade homework assignment

“Explain God”.

“One of God’s main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth. He doesn’t make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way He doesn’t have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.

“God’s second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn’t have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because He hears everything, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off. “God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn’t go wasting His time by going over your mom and dad’s head asking for something they said you couldn’t have.

“Atheists are people who don’t believe in God. I don’t think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren’t any who come to our church.

“Jesus is God’s Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn’t want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind, like His Father and He told His Father that they didn’t know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said O.K.

“His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn’t have to go out on the road anymore. He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary, only more important.

“You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to help you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the time.

“You should always go to Church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there’s anybody you want to make happy, it’s God. Don’t skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong. And besides the sun doesn’t come out at the beach until noon anyway.

“If you don’t believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can’t go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can. It is good to know He’s around you when you’re scared in the dark or when you can’t swim and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids.

“But you shouldn’t just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases.

And that’s why I believe in God.