Psalms 3:5

I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me.

The Devoted Son

Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting.

Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and many others adorned the walls of their family estate. 

The widowed elderly man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world. 

As winter approached, war engulfed their nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, the elderly man received a telegram that his beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic. 

Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.The joy of the season-a season that he and his son had so looked forward to in the past-would visit his house no longer. On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. 

As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. He opened the door and was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. The soldier introduced himself to the old man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come infor a few moments? I have something to show you."

As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told every one of his-and his father's-love of fine art work. "I'm also an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man began to unwrap the package, paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it a work of genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, the old man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the portrait above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of paintings. And then the old man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given.

During the days and weeks that followed, the man learned that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief, as he realized that, although his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the priceless pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received. The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The artworld was in anticipation, since, with the old man's passing, and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the way he had received his greatest gift. The day finally arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams could be fulfilled this day; greatness could be achieved as some could say," I have the greatest collection." 

The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum list... It was the painting of the old man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent."Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Moments passed as no one spoke. From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and get on to the good ones." More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one-first," replied the auctioneer. "Now who will take the son?" Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take $10 for the painting? That's all I have. "Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence he said, "Going once, going twice...Gone!" The gavel fell. 

Cheers filled the room and someone shouted, "Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!" The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Then someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a portrait of some old man's son! What about all of the other paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art work here. We demand an explanation!" 

The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son...gets it all." Just as the art collectors discovered on that day...The message is still the same...the love of the Father....a Father whose son gave his life for others...And because of that Father's love...Whoever takes the Son gets it all. - Author Unknown -

Philippians 4:4

Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.

Because He Lives

God sent His son, they called Him Jesus 

He came to love, heal, and forgive. 

He lived and died to buy my pardon, 

An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives. 

 

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. 

Because He lives, All fear is gone. 

Because I know He holds the future, 

And life is worth the living just because He lives. 

 

How sweet to hold a newborn baby, 

And feel the pride and joy he gives. 

But greater still the calm assurance, 

This child can face uncertain days because He lives. 

 

And then one day I'll cross the river, 

I'll fight life's final war with pain.

 And then as death gives way to victory, 

I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know He lives. ~ William and Gloria Gaither ~

Romans 8:1

There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.

Two-Layer Caramel-Pecan Bars

Yield: 20 bars (serving size: 1 bar)
















Ingredients

1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter or stick margarine, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
Cooking spray
2 tablespoons fat-free milk
40 small soft caramel candies
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup finely chopped pecans

Preparation

Preheat oven to 375°.

Beat the first 4 ingredients with a mixer at medium speed until well-blended. Lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups, and level with a knife. Add flour to sugar mixture, stirring until well-blended. (Mixture will be crumbly.) Firmly press mixture into bottom of an 8-inch square baking pan coated with cooking spray. Bake at 375° for 15 minutes.

While crust is baking, combine milk and caramel candies in a medium sauce-pan. Place over low heat; cook until candies melt, stirring occasionally. Stir in 1 teaspoon vanilla; remove from heat.

Remove the crust from oven. Pour the caramel mixture evenly over hot crust. Sprinkle with pecans. Bake at 375° for 15 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack

Champion Chicken Parmesan

Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 1 chicken breast half, 1 cup sauce, 1/4 cup cheese, and 3/4 cup pasta)

Ingredients

Tomato sauce:

1 ounce sun-dried tomatoes, packed without oil (about 1/4 cup)
1 cup boiling water
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 cups chopped red bell pepper
1 cup chopped onion
2 (14.5-ounce) cans diced tomatoes, undrained
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 garlic cloves, minced

Chicken:

1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
4 (4-ounce) skinned, boned chicken breast halves
1 large egg white, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon olive oil
Cooking spray
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
3 cups hot cooked linguine (about 6 ounces uncooked pasta)

Preparation

To prepare tomato sauce, combine sun-dried tomatoes and water in a bowl; cover and let stand 30 minutes or until soft. Drain and finely chop tomatoes.

Heat 1 teaspoon olive oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add sun-dried tomatoes, bell pepper, and onion; sauté 7 minutes. Stir in canned tomatoes; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat; stir in parsley, basil, vinegar, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, and garlic.

Preheat oven to 350°.

To prepare chicken, lightly spoon flour into a dry measuring cup; level with a knife. Combine flour, Parmesan, and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper in a shallow dish. Place each breast half between 2 sheets of heavy-duty plastic wrap; flatten to 1/4-inch thickness using a meat mallet or rolling pin. Dip each breast half in egg white; dredge in flour mixture. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken; cook 5 minutes on each side or until golden. Arrange in a 13 x 9-inch baking dish coated with cooking spray. Pour the tomato sauce over the chicken. Sprinkle with mozzarella. Bake at 350° for 15 minutes. Serve over linguine.

A God of Infinite Possibilities

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair...~~ 2 Corinthians 4:8  

As we travel the roads of life, all of us are confronted with streets that seem to be dead ends. We may become discouraged. 

After all, we live in a society where expectations can be high and demands even higher. If you find yourself enduring difficult circumstances, remember that God remains in His heaven. 

If you become discouraged with the direction of your day or your life, turn your thoughts and prayers to Him. He is a God of possibility, not negativity. He will guide you through your difficulties and beyond them. And then, with a renewed spirit of optimism and hope, you can thank the Giver of all things good for gifts that are simply too profound to fully understand and for treasures that are too numerous to count. 

Every misfortune, every failure, every loss may be transformed. God has the power to transform all misfortunes into "God-sends." (Mrs. Charles E. Cowman)A Woman of Prayer - 365 Daily Devotions, Freeman-Smith LLC, Publisher

Isaiah 46:4

Even to your old age, I am He, And even to gray hairs I will carry you! I have made, and I will bear; Even I will carry, and will deliver you.

The Old Fisherman

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face -- lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there's no bus 'til morning." 

He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face...I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments..." 

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. 

I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag. 

 When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take a long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. 

He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. 

He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. 

When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind." 

I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us. 

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. 

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" 

Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illness' would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!" My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden." 

She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body." All this happened long ago -- and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand. by Mary Bartels Bray