Dayzee's Food For The Soul

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♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Tue Sep 6, '11 8:56am PST 
“ Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. ”
Ephesians 1:3 (NIV)
This summer has been eventful for my family. We’ve welcomed new babies. We’ve had cookouts and blown a million bubbles (mostly at two-year-old Isabelle Grace’s request). We watched grandson Mace blow out one candle on his birthday cake. We’ve played in the sand and eaten (way too many) ice cream cones. Good times, good memories.

But some of the events haven’t been joyful or welcome. My mother-in-law Opal was diagnosed with cancer in her right sinus cavity. She spent the summer undergoing chemo at Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee. They were hoping the difficult treatments would shrink the tumor and surgery could follow, but that’s not what happened. The cancer continues to grow.

There have been a flock of other family problems, too—some physical, some financial, others emotional. I wake each morning and begin praying for the overwhelming needs of those I love. I’ve even begun to wonder what new calamity might unfold during the course of an otherwise ordinary day. Which is why the sunflowers came as such a welcome surprise.

They appeared one day, twin stalks rising out of the flower bed near my sunroom door. By the time I noticed them, they were knee-high and looked enough unlike a weed to be spared my dedicated pulling. They grew taller and soon big buds appeared. That’s when I knew: I was going to have sunflowers to brighten my waning garden!

As I was admiring these beauties this morning, I noticed they had sprung up next to a clump of red geraniums. And nestled in those geraniums is a small gray rock with a single word carved into its face: Rejoice .

Good advice; rock solid advice. Because in the midst of sadness and trial, there is always God’s eternal love—and some unexpected blessings.

Keep me from being so downcast, Lord, that I forget to look for the f lowers lining my pathway.

By Mary Lou Carney
♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Wed Sep 14, '11 6:36am PST 
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
-Matthew 11:28
“What do you want, Fred?” I asked our cat. “I wish you’d make up your mind.” First he was meowing in the kitchen, then in the bedroom and now at my feet. I was trying to do some work on the computer and there he was, butting against my leg. I reached down to scratch him between his ears. He seemed to enjoy it, purring contentedly, but the minute I stopped he sauntered back to the kitchen. “Meow, meow,” I heard him say.
“Okay, I give up. I’m coming,” I said. I went into the kitchen. His water bowl was full, his food dish was half full, and my wife Carol had already brushed him once today. “What do you want?” I asked.

He looked up at me with his green eyes and said it again, “Meow, meow.”

I guess this is what it’s like to be a cat, I thought. Wanting things that you can’t even articulate. Then I paused. No, maybe this is what it’s like to be a human. Restless, impatient, needy. Sometimes I feel like wandering around the house and whining, wishing somebody would do something.

I sat down on the floor. Fred nestled his head under the counter the way he often does and rolled over on his back so I could rub his stomach. “Do you know what St. Augustine once said about his Master?” I asked, running my hands through Fred’s thick fur. “He said, ‘Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.’”

He purred contentedly. I knew the feeling.

I come to You, Lord, looking for rest.

Rick Hamlin
♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Mon Sep 19, '11 5:51am PST 
8 People

I heard in a message by MacDonald James that the average pastor
leaves a church because of eight people.

He could pastor a church of hundreds or even thousands, but there
are eight people who cause him to leave. There are eight people
whom he has a problem with and most likely they have a problem
with him.

There could be hundreds who like him, get along with him and
cause him no problems. But those eight...

You have an eight in your life too.

Often they are not the majority or even close to the majority.

With most, it's not eight. It's one or two, but those few cause
us to leave what is important in our mission in life.

Don't let the eight get you down. Instead, wait eight.

Wait Eight

~A MountainWings Original~

♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Tue Sep 20, '11 6:01am PST 
10 Wisdoms for Your HEALTH

1. More Vegetables - Less Meat
2. More Vinegar - Less Salt
3. More Fruits - Less Sugar
4. More Chew - Less Food
5. More Walk - Less Ride
6. More Sleep - Less Worry
7. More Smile - Less Frown
8. More Practice - Less Thinking
9. More Praise - Less Blame
10. More Charity - Less Greed
♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Sat Oct 1, '11 11:05pm PST 
“ When we bless the cup at the Lord’s Table, aren’t we sharing in the blood of Christ? And when we break the bread, aren’t we sharing in the body of Christ? ”
I Corinthians 10:16 (NLT)

Today is World Communion Sunday.

First, our congregation will share in the breaking of bread, symbolizing the Lord’s body, which was broken for us, followed by the wine, depicting the blood He shed for us. Before this, each of us will have searched our hearts and asked forgiveness for any wrongs we may have done.

After the service is over, we’ll head for the fellowship hall, where my husband and I will join other families pulling out dishes from picnic baskets—or the kitchen’s ovens—and putting them on serving tables.

My contribution is always the same: a chicken-rice casserole. We can count on Mrs. Brown’s cherry cobbler. And Brother Jim will don his usual chef’s hat and apron to bear in a mammoth platter of barbecued ribs. Ang so goes the food parade until the counters become kaleidoscopes of color!

Children whose eyes are barely level with the tabletops queue up to eagerly await the pastor’s blessing and then begin loading their plates.

It’s a happy, yet noisy, place, with all of us chatting, eating, visiting . . .

yes, communing together!

It is truly Your table, Lord, when Your children gather around it, just as You often did with Your friends so long ago.

By Isabel Wolseley
♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Sun Oct 30, '11 7:47am PST 
“ Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them. . . . ”
Romans 12:6 (RSV)
Long ago we’d been told that if Nellie, our black Labrador retriever who suffered from chronic pancreatitis and was an incorrigible food thief to boot, absconded with one more piece of chocolate, it might well be her last. This evening as we’d washed up the dinner dishes, Nellie began to pace the kitchen in wide circles, panting and eyeing us wildly.

We wondered what was wrong until we found an empty, chewed-up box on the back porch. It had once contained a large selection of gourmet brownies. Now, all that was left were tiny shreds of foil and cellophane.

It was the weekend and our veterinarian’s office was closed, so I picked up the phone and dialed my sister Katrina, a large-animal vet. Through halting tears, I explained what had happened. “You must get Nellie to the animal emergency hospital now, ” she said.

I kept the cell phone and Katrina’s reassuring voice to my ear all through the emergency room evaluation. As the hospital veterinarian told us what could be done, Katrina explained what it all meant. From three hundred miles away, she gave me questions to ask the vet, translated the answers and helped us decide what to do.

Nellie was led away, and for a long hour we could hear her yelping from behind closed doors. Finally the doctor returned to tell us that Nellie would be fine in another twenty-four hours. She also told me that my sister was a remarkable vet.

I called Katrina the next day to thank her for what she had been for me through that trying time. “You’re welcome,” she said, “but it was easy. That’s what I do.”

Dear Lord, You’ve given all of us our own talents and abilities, and when we share them, we do for each other what we were meant to do.

By Anne Adriance
♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Sun Nov 20, '11 7:08am PST 

There was a little boy,
On the week's first day,
Coming home from Sunday School
And wandering on the way.

He scuffed his shoes into the grass
And found a caterpillar.
He found a fluffy milkweed pod
And blew out all the filler.

A bird's nest in a tree above,
So wisely placed on high,
Was just another wonder
That caught his eager eye.

A neighbor watched his crooked course
And hailed him from the lawn.
He asked him where he'd been that day
And what was going on.

"I've been to Sunday School," he said
As he turned a piece of sod,
And picking up a worm, he smiled,
"I've learned a lot from God!"

"That's a fine way," the neighbor said,
"For a boy to spend his time.
"Now if you can tell me where God is,
I'll give you a brand new dime."

Quick as a flash the answer came,
The boy said without complaint,
"I'll give you a dollar, Mister,
If you can tell me where God ain't!"

~Author Unknown~
♥- Dayzee- ♥

I got THE- power!! Jesus.
Barked: Wed Jan 25, '12 3:37pm PST 
Butterfly Attack

Walking down a path through some woods in Georgia , I saw a water puddle ahead on the path.

I angled my direction to go around it on the part of the path that wasn't covered by water and mud. As I reached the puddle, I was suddenly attacked!

Yet I did nothing for the attack was so unpredictable and from a source so totally unexpected.

I was startled as well as unhurt, despite having been struck four or five times already. I backed up a foot and my attacker stopped attacking me. Instead of attacking more, he hovered in the air on graceful butterfly wings in front of me. Had I been hurt I wouldn't have found it amusing, but I was unhurt, it was funny, and I was laughing. After all, I was being attacked by a butterfly!

Having stopped laughing, I took a step forward. My attacker rushed me again.

He rammed me in the chest with his head and body, striking me over and over again with all his might, still to no avail.

For a second time, I retreated a step while my attacker relented in his attack. Yet again, I tried moving forward. My attacker charged me again. I was rammed in the chest over and over again. I wasn't sure what to do, other than to retreat a third time. After all, it's just not everyday that one is attacked by a
butterfly. This time, though, I stepped back several paces to look the situation over. My attacker moved back as well to land on the ground. That's when I discovered why my attacker was charging me only moments earlier. He had a mate and she was dying. She was beside the puddle where he landed. Sitting close beside her, he opened and closed his wings as if to fan her. I could only admire the love and courage of that butterfly in his concern for his mate. He had taken it upon himself to attack me for his mate's sake, even though she was clearly dying and I was so large. He did so just to give her those extra few precious moments of life, should I have been careless enough to step on her.

Now I knew why and what he was fighting for. There was really only one option left for me. I carefully made my way around the puddle to the other side of the path, though it was only inches wide and
extremely muddy. His courage in attacking something thousands of times larger and heavier than himself just for his mate's safety justified it. I couldn't do anything other than reward him by walking on the more difficult side of the puddle. He had truly earned those moments to be with her, undisturbed. left them in peace for those last few moments, cleaning the mud from my boots when I later reached my car.

Since then, I've always tried to remember the courage of that butterfly whenever I see huge obstacles facing me. I use that butterfly's courage as an inspiration and to remind myself that good things are worth fighting for.
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