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Heirloom

9/24/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
It had belonged to Great-Grandmother and he knew he must be very careful. The vase was one of mother's dearest treasures. She had told him so.

The vase placed high on the mantle, was out of reach of little hands, but somehow he managed. He just wanted to see if the tiny rosebud border went all around the back. He didn't realize that a boy's five-year-old hands are sometimes clumsy and not meant to hold delicate porcelain treasures. It shattered when it hit the floor, and he began to cry. That cry soon became a sobbing wail, growing louder and louder. From the kitchen, his mother heard her son crying and came around the corner. She stopped then, looked at him, and saw what he had done.

Between his sobs, he could hardly speak the words, "I broke.... the vase."

And then his mother gave him a gift. With a look of relief, his mother said "Oh, thank heavens, I thought you were hurt!" And she held him tenderly until his sobbing stopped.

She made it very clear... he was the treasure. Though now a grown man, it is a gift he still carries in his heart.             

Original Story by Ann Weems, retold by Alice Gray in Stories for the Heart.


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Taking Me Home

9/22/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
A pastor had been on a long flight between church conferences. The first warning of the approaching problems came when the sign on the airplane flashed on: Fasten Your Seat Belts. Then, after a while, a calm voice said, "We shall not be serving the beverages at this time as we are expecting a little turbulence. Please be sure your seat belt is fastened."

As the pastor looked around the aircraft, it became obvious that many of the passengers were becoming apprehensive. Later, the voice on the intercom said, "We are so sorry that we are unable to serve the meal at this time. The turbulence is still ahead of us." And then the storm broke . . .

The ominous cracks of thunder could be heard even above the roar of the engines. Lightning lit up the darkening skies, and within moments that great plane was like a cork tossed around on a celestial ocean. One moment the airplane was lifted on terrific currents of air; the next, it dropped as if it were about to crash.

The pastor confessed that he shared the discomfort and fear of those around him. He said, "As I looked around the plane, I could see that nearly all the passengers were upset and alarmed. Some were praying. The future seemed ominous and many were wondering if they would make it through the storm.

"Then, I suddenly saw a little girl. Apparently the storm meant nothing to her. She had tucked her feet beneath her as she sat on her seat; she was reading a book and every- thing within her small world was calm and orderly.

"Sometimes she closed her eyes, then she would read again; then she would straighten her legs, but worry and fear were not in her world. When the plane was being buffeted by the terrible storm when it lurched this way and that, as it rose and fell with frightening severity, when all the adults were scared half to death, that marvelous child was completely composed and unafraid." The minister could hardly believe his eyes.

It was not surprising therefore, that when the plane finally reached its destination and all the passengers were hurrying to disembark, our pastor lingered to speak to the girl whom he had watched for such a long time. Having commented about the storm and the behavior of the plane, he asked why she had not been afraid.

The child replied, "Cause my Daddy's the pilot, and he's taking me home."

There are many kinds of storms that buffet us. Physical, mental, financial, domestic, and many other storms can easily and quickly darken our skies and throw our plane into apparently uncontrollable movement. We have all known such times, and let us be honest and confess: it is much easier to be at rest when our feet are on the ground than when we are being tossed about a darkened sky.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).


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Wrong Address

9/15/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
A Minneapolis couple decided to go to Florida to thaw out during a particularly icy winter. They planned to stay at the same hotel where they spent their honeymoon 20 years earlier. Because of hectic schedules, it was difficult to coordinate their travel plans. So, the husband left Minnesota and flew to Florida on Thursday, with his wife flying down the following day.

The husband checked into the hotel. There was a computer in his room, so he decided to send an email to his wife. However, he accidentally left out one letter in her email address, and without realizing his error, sent the email. Meanwhile, somewhere in Houston, a widow had just returned home from her husband's funeral. He was a minister who was called home to glory following a heart attack. The widow decided to check her email expecting messages from relatives and friends.

After reading the first message, she screamed and fainted. The widow's son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:

To: My loving wife
Subject: I've arrived
Date: April 6, 2006

I know you're surprised to hear from me. They have computers here now and you are allowed to send emails to your loved ones. I've just arrived and have been checked in. I see that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you then. Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.
P.S. Sure is hot down here.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).


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The Welcome

9/12/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
I remember when I had been at Morton Plant North Bay Hospital for almost six years. While it seemed like home to me then, I still remembered those first few weeks and months of feeling like an outsider, being so self conscious, and struggling to meet people and remember names. But after six years, I was an old hand, one of the fixtures around the place.

During the first weeks the hospital maintenance team helped me settle in, moving things in my office, hanging up my diplomas, certificates, and mostly my pictures of my family. It was great to be able to ask for help and know that they would “getter done.”

A few months after settling in and growing accustomed to my new place of ministry, I noticed that one of the fluorescent lights in my small office was beginning to fade. It was darker and would blink annoyingly. I made a note to mention it to the maintenance department, but just kept either forgetting or putting it off.

One day Bobby came around the corner as I walked out into the hall. Now Bobby was tall and wore a baseball cap to cover his folliclely challenged pate. He was very nice, but usually very quiet and not one for small talk. At least this had been my impression so far.

Now was my chance. I would mention it to him while it was on my mind. “Hey Bobby,” I said, hoping that by now we were chums. “There’s a dim bulb in my office.”

With a slight smile Bobby responded, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.”

I suddenly felt right at home.

© 2008, John C. Fitts, III.  All Rights Reserved.  Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).


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Decision-Making in Health Care

9/9/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
When a panel of doctors was asked to vote on adding a new wing to their hospital, the Allergists voted to scratch it and the Dermatologists advised
not to make any rash moves.


The Gastroenterologists had sort of a gut feeling about it, but the
Neurologists thought the administration had a lot of nerve, and the
Obstetricians felt they were all laboring under a misconception.


The Ophthalmologists considered the idea shortsighted; the Pathologists
yelled, "Over my dead body", while the Pediatricians said, "Oh, grow up!"


The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness, the Radiologists could
see right through it, and the Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the
whole thing. 
The Internists thought it was a bitter pill to swallow, and the Plastic 
Surgeons said, "This puts a whole new face on the matter." 

The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but the Urologists felt the
scheme wouldn't hold water. 
The Anesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas and the Cardiologists 
didn't have the heart to say no.

The Orthopedists were sure that it didn’t have a leg to stand on and the chaplains agreed that it didn’t have a prayer.

In the end, the decision was left to the Proctologists.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).


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The Sharing of Marriage

9/1/2014

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Picture© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.
The old man placed an order for one hamburger, French fries and a drink. He unwrapped the plain hamburger and carefully cut it in half, placing one half in front of his wife. He then carefully counted out the French fries, dividing them into two piles and neatly placed one pile in front of his wife. He took a sip of the drink, his wife took a sip and then set the cup down between them.

As he began to eat his few bites of hamburger, the people around them were looking over and whispering. Obviously they were thinking, "That poor old couple -- all they can afford is one meal for the two of them."

As the man began to eat his fries a young man came to the table and politely offered to buy another meal for the old couple. The old man said, they were just fine -- they were used to sharing everything.

People closer to the table noticed the little old lady hadn't eaten a bite. She sat there watching her husband eat and occasionally taking turns sipping the drink. Again, the young man came over and begged them to let him buy another meal for them. This time the old woman said "No, thank you, we are used to sharing everything."

Finally, as the old man finished and was wiping his face neatly with the napkin, the young man again came over to the little old lady who had yet to eat a single bite of food and asked "What is it you are waiting for?"

She answered,"The teeth."

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).


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    Author

    John Fitts is a retired hospital chaplain and a contributor & publisher of Grace Drops. John lives in Palm Harbor, Florida with his artist wife, Patty. 
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