Never let schooling interfere with your education.
~Winston Churchill~
Isn't that the truth?!!
Vicki
Monday, March 24, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Thank you, Hank!!
I want to tell you about my friend Hank. Hank is 86 years old. He is a father of 2, grandfather of 4, and proud great grandfather of 1. Hank loves to talk about his children, his grandchildren, his beautiful little great granddaughter, and his beloved wife Betty, who passed away about 5 years ago.
But, those aren't the best parts of Hank's story. This afternoon, I had the blessing of being able to spend a couple of hours talking with Hank, and listening to his stories.
Hank is a former Prisoner of War. He was held captive by German soldiers for 4 months during World War 2. His survival is a miracle any way you look at it, but ESPECIALLY when you consider the fact that Hank is Jewish.
I don't mean that Hank has an ancestor somewhere in his background that was Jewish. Hank is absolutely, 100%, a direct descendant of the tribe of Benjamin. Six million of his Jewish brothers and sisters did NOT survive World War 2. The fact that Hank did is a miracle. But, as you listen to Hank tell his story, he will assure you that his survival of WW2 is NOT the greatest miracle he ever experienced.
Hank will tell you, quite enthusiastically, that the greatest miracle he ever experienced happend when, at the age of 83, he accompanied his son, daughter in law, and 2 granddaughters to church. As the preacher preached that day, the words suddenly began to make sense to Hank. The words from that King James Bible, given to him by a dear friend, that he's been reading at home, suddenly became very clear to him. When the pastor gave the invitation that day, then asked anyone who'd like to be saved to please come forward, Hank jumped up, shouted, "I want to be saved!" and RAN down that aisle!!
I got to hear the story again today~about the German stalag, the awful prison camp where Hank spent 4 months being beaten and starved. About all the ups and downs of life that came to Hank after that. And finally, about the glorious day when the Lord saved Hank's soul. I haven't enjoyed anything that much in a long time.
So, I just want to say thank you, Hank. Thank you for walking, for four days straight, with no food, and a German soldier pointing a gun at your head. Thank you for the four days you spent crammed onto a boxcar, one of 60 crammed into a space meant for no more than 40.
Thank you for those days when you got nothing but canned soup and a piece of bread. Thank you for those days, and there were many of them, when you got no food at all. Thank you for the scars you still carry from the beatings you took. Thank you for the 4 months you spent watching your friends die, and not knowing if you would live from one day to the next.
Because of the sacrifices you made, I have grown up in a free country. My children have never had to watch their father go off to war. We will all sleep safely tonight, because of the sacrifices you made then.
Thank you for hanging on back then, in spite of the fear you must have felt. Thank you for sharing your story with me now. Thank you for ending your story with your salvation experience, and for the absolute joy you show when you share it.
You make me proud to be an American, Hank, and even more proud to be a Christian. Thank you, my friend.
Vicki
But, those aren't the best parts of Hank's story. This afternoon, I had the blessing of being able to spend a couple of hours talking with Hank, and listening to his stories.
Hank is a former Prisoner of War. He was held captive by German soldiers for 4 months during World War 2. His survival is a miracle any way you look at it, but ESPECIALLY when you consider the fact that Hank is Jewish.
I don't mean that Hank has an ancestor somewhere in his background that was Jewish. Hank is absolutely, 100%, a direct descendant of the tribe of Benjamin. Six million of his Jewish brothers and sisters did NOT survive World War 2. The fact that Hank did is a miracle. But, as you listen to Hank tell his story, he will assure you that his survival of WW2 is NOT the greatest miracle he ever experienced.
Hank will tell you, quite enthusiastically, that the greatest miracle he ever experienced happend when, at the age of 83, he accompanied his son, daughter in law, and 2 granddaughters to church. As the preacher preached that day, the words suddenly began to make sense to Hank. The words from that King James Bible, given to him by a dear friend, that he's been reading at home, suddenly became very clear to him. When the pastor gave the invitation that day, then asked anyone who'd like to be saved to please come forward, Hank jumped up, shouted, "I want to be saved!" and RAN down that aisle!!
I got to hear the story again today~about the German stalag, the awful prison camp where Hank spent 4 months being beaten and starved. About all the ups and downs of life that came to Hank after that. And finally, about the glorious day when the Lord saved Hank's soul. I haven't enjoyed anything that much in a long time.
So, I just want to say thank you, Hank. Thank you for walking, for four days straight, with no food, and a German soldier pointing a gun at your head. Thank you for the four days you spent crammed onto a boxcar, one of 60 crammed into a space meant for no more than 40.
Thank you for those days when you got nothing but canned soup and a piece of bread. Thank you for those days, and there were many of them, when you got no food at all. Thank you for the scars you still carry from the beatings you took. Thank you for the 4 months you spent watching your friends die, and not knowing if you would live from one day to the next.
Because of the sacrifices you made, I have grown up in a free country. My children have never had to watch their father go off to war. We will all sleep safely tonight, because of the sacrifices you made then.
Thank you for hanging on back then, in spite of the fear you must have felt. Thank you for sharing your story with me now. Thank you for ending your story with your salvation experience, and for the absolute joy you show when you share it.
You make me proud to be an American, Hank, and even more proud to be a Christian. Thank you, my friend.
Vicki
Monday, March 3, 2008
Our First Goat Adventure
So, our baby goat finally arrived today. He IS cute, and my kids loved him immediately. For all of about a half hour.
The gentleman who gave him to us brough him over today, and put him in the pen my husband built. There was some concern that the spacing in the fencing material that my dh used may have been too big, leaving spaces big enough for the goat to get out. So, our friend Tony, ( who does great yardwork for us, by the way) stuck around for about 20 minutes, watching the goat, and telling me how to take care of him.
During that time, the goat pushed his head through some of the spaces in the fence~this happened no less than 4 times, maybe more, while Tony was still here. EVERY time, Tony would watch him and then say "I believe he'll be all right. I don't believe he can get out of there. He's done got too big to get out of there." Yes, Tony is as redneck as they come, and proud of it! :)
So, after Tony left, the children and I stayed out by the goat's pen and watched him play for another 15 or 20 minutes. Then we came inside. After only about 10 minutes, I realized that I could no longer hear the goat. He had been bleating constantly up until that point. So, we went back outside. NO GOAT!
But, Tony said that he would probably sleep soon, and he is little, so I just assumed he had laid down in some of the brush that we're hoping he'll eat, and gone to sleep. The children accepted this explanation, but they were still uneasy about the possible whereabouts of their new pet.
I called my dh at work and told him that I wasn't sure the goat was in his pen, and I was going out there to have a look. Dh said if the goat wasn't there, to call Tony back, and if Tony could find him, have Tony take him back until we can fix a fence that the goat can't get out of.
So, I go outside and check the pen. NO GOAT. My kids, who were hoping that the goat was just asleep, realized that he was actually gone and started to get upset.
I herded the kids back into the house and turned on the tv, hoping to distract them, all the while grumbling to myself about all the awful things I'd like to do to my dh for bringing this dad~blasted goat here in the first place. I call my dh back and tell him that the goat is DEFINITELY not in his pen.
Then, I heard what sounded like a car stopping outside our house, so I opened my back door to see what was going on. A car has stopped in the middle of the road, a little way up from our house. A woman gets out of a small car, and has a conversation with another woman who happens to be walking along the side of the road. I have no clue what this is about until I hear one of them say "Is it your goat?" and then "Well, at least it's out of the road now".
I'm now standing in my backyard, yelling, and waving my arms, trying to get the attention of either one of these women, but they don't hear me. The lady in the car gets in and turns in to a nearby driveway, and the other lady continues to walk along the side of the road, walking away from my house.
My dh calls back and tells me that since we cannot find Tony's phone number anywhere, he is going to call his friend Harold, who lives near us. He's thinking that perhaps Harold can ride around a bit and see if he can find this blame goat before it gets run over.
While I"m still on the phone with my dh ( and still mulling over the possibility of doing him bodily harm when he gets home) my Dad pulls into my driveway with my 16yo nephew AND my 86yo grandmother, both of whom want to see the baby goat!!!
A minute later, dh's friend Harold also pulls into the driveway. I introduce my Dad to our friend Harold. I guess my Mama taught me well, because even when I'm stressed and plotting my husband's demise, I still remember to politely introduce the two of them.
So, Dad, with grandma and nephew in the car, drives up and down the road a bit to see if he can see the goat anywhere. I explain to Harold about the car I had seen that stopped in the road, and the general area where the car turned into a drive way. There is someone up there that has goats, I know, because we hear them from time to time. Harold agrees to go take a look.
About 20 minutes later, there is a knock on our living room window. I look up, and there's our little goat, safe and sound in Harold's arms. As we all rush outside so that the kids can pet the goat and I can offer my thanks to Harold, I reach up to pet the little pain and realize that he's wearing A COLLAR!!
I asked Harold, what in the world is he doing with a collar on? Harold, who finds this entire situation VERY funny, said that when he pulled into the lady's driveway to ask her if she'd found a goat, she was on her front porch with the GOAT ON A LEASH, and her phone in her hand, calling around to ask various neighbors if they'd lost a goat!!
She is indeed the owner of the goats that we ocassionally hear when we are out in the yard. So, at least the silly goat went to the right place!!
Harold very kindly offered to return the goat to Tony for a day or two until my dh can fix the fence so that the goat can no longer get out of it.
All I can say is, it's a good thing for that dang goat that IS so stinkin' cute, or we'd likely be having barbequed goat for dinner tonight!! :) :)
Goat or no goat, I am, as always,
Blessed Beyond Measure
The gentleman who gave him to us brough him over today, and put him in the pen my husband built. There was some concern that the spacing in the fencing material that my dh used may have been too big, leaving spaces big enough for the goat to get out. So, our friend Tony, ( who does great yardwork for us, by the way) stuck around for about 20 minutes, watching the goat, and telling me how to take care of him.
During that time, the goat pushed his head through some of the spaces in the fence~this happened no less than 4 times, maybe more, while Tony was still here. EVERY time, Tony would watch him and then say "I believe he'll be all right. I don't believe he can get out of there. He's done got too big to get out of there." Yes, Tony is as redneck as they come, and proud of it! :)
So, after Tony left, the children and I stayed out by the goat's pen and watched him play for another 15 or 20 minutes. Then we came inside. After only about 10 minutes, I realized that I could no longer hear the goat. He had been bleating constantly up until that point. So, we went back outside. NO GOAT!
But, Tony said that he would probably sleep soon, and he is little, so I just assumed he had laid down in some of the brush that we're hoping he'll eat, and gone to sleep. The children accepted this explanation, but they were still uneasy about the possible whereabouts of their new pet.
I called my dh at work and told him that I wasn't sure the goat was in his pen, and I was going out there to have a look. Dh said if the goat wasn't there, to call Tony back, and if Tony could find him, have Tony take him back until we can fix a fence that the goat can't get out of.
So, I go outside and check the pen. NO GOAT. My kids, who were hoping that the goat was just asleep, realized that he was actually gone and started to get upset.
I herded the kids back into the house and turned on the tv, hoping to distract them, all the while grumbling to myself about all the awful things I'd like to do to my dh for bringing this dad~blasted goat here in the first place. I call my dh back and tell him that the goat is DEFINITELY not in his pen.
Then, I heard what sounded like a car stopping outside our house, so I opened my back door to see what was going on. A car has stopped in the middle of the road, a little way up from our house. A woman gets out of a small car, and has a conversation with another woman who happens to be walking along the side of the road. I have no clue what this is about until I hear one of them say "Is it your goat?" and then "Well, at least it's out of the road now".
I'm now standing in my backyard, yelling, and waving my arms, trying to get the attention of either one of these women, but they don't hear me. The lady in the car gets in and turns in to a nearby driveway, and the other lady continues to walk along the side of the road, walking away from my house.
My dh calls back and tells me that since we cannot find Tony's phone number anywhere, he is going to call his friend Harold, who lives near us. He's thinking that perhaps Harold can ride around a bit and see if he can find this blame goat before it gets run over.
While I"m still on the phone with my dh ( and still mulling over the possibility of doing him bodily harm when he gets home) my Dad pulls into my driveway with my 16yo nephew AND my 86yo grandmother, both of whom want to see the baby goat!!!
A minute later, dh's friend Harold also pulls into the driveway. I introduce my Dad to our friend Harold. I guess my Mama taught me well, because even when I'm stressed and plotting my husband's demise, I still remember to politely introduce the two of them.
So, Dad, with grandma and nephew in the car, drives up and down the road a bit to see if he can see the goat anywhere. I explain to Harold about the car I had seen that stopped in the road, and the general area where the car turned into a drive way. There is someone up there that has goats, I know, because we hear them from time to time. Harold agrees to go take a look.
About 20 minutes later, there is a knock on our living room window. I look up, and there's our little goat, safe and sound in Harold's arms. As we all rush outside so that the kids can pet the goat and I can offer my thanks to Harold, I reach up to pet the little pain and realize that he's wearing A COLLAR!!
I asked Harold, what in the world is he doing with a collar on? Harold, who finds this entire situation VERY funny, said that when he pulled into the lady's driveway to ask her if she'd found a goat, she was on her front porch with the GOAT ON A LEASH, and her phone in her hand, calling around to ask various neighbors if they'd lost a goat!!
She is indeed the owner of the goats that we ocassionally hear when we are out in the yard. So, at least the silly goat went to the right place!!
Harold very kindly offered to return the goat to Tony for a day or two until my dh can fix the fence so that the goat can no longer get out of it.
All I can say is, it's a good thing for that dang goat that IS so stinkin' cute, or we'd likely be having barbequed goat for dinner tonight!! :) :)
Goat or no goat, I am, as always,
Blessed Beyond Measure
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