This Ting Cross of Pain

This Tiny Cross of Pain

Though prayers for healing seemed in vain ,
God helped me learn to live with pain ;
To use the very thing I dread
For closer walk with Him instead

And how to lend a listening ear
To those who hurt and shed a tear
of symapathy,or press their hand
worth more because I understand .

Dear God ,if that’sthe only way
You’d have me serve from day to day ,
please use this tiny cross of pain
for others and for Heavens’s gain !
Jan Bagwell

Apostles' Creed

1. I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth:
2. And in Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, our Lord:
3. Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary:
4. Suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, dead and buried: He descended into hell:
5. The third day he rose again from the dead:
6. He ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty:
7. From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead:
8. I believe in the Holy Ghost:
9. I believe in the holy church:and the communion of saints:
10. The forgiveness of sins:
1l. The resurrection of the body:
12. And the life everlasting. Amen.

Quilt of Holes

Quilt of Holes:

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment,

I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls.
Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles;

An angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.

But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile,

I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares were.

They were filled with giant holes.

Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in every day life.

I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me.

Nobody else had such squares.

Other than a tiny hole here and there.

The other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune.

I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.

My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.
Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth.

So filled their lives had been.

My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame.

I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes.

I had love in my life, and laughter.

But there had also been trials of illness, and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it.

I had to start over many times.

I often struggled with the temptation to quit,

only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again.

I spent many nights on my knees in prayer,

asking for help and guidance in my life.

I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.

And now, I had to face the truth.

My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.
I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air.

I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes.

Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me.

Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes.

He said, 'Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles.

Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.'
May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!

God determines who walks into your life....it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.'

I need your help.

If you'll do this for me, I'll do it for you....

When there is nothing left but God that is when you find out that God is all you need.
Take 60 seconds and give this a shot!

All you do is simply say the following small prayer. Father, God bless all my friends in whatever it is that you know they may need this day!

And may their life be full of your peace, prosperity and power as he/she seeks to have a closer relationship with you. Amen.

Jan Bagwell

A Little Girl

A Little Girl
There’s a little girl Almost seven
Who came to earth to make a heaven
For the ones who’d pass her way
To watch her in her fancy play .

It takes so very little , her childish
Joy to give –
A whole day thru of make believe,
Some magic thing pretend ,
Just the way she’d like it to be ,
Games without end .

There’d be tea parties , all alone –
Still every place is filled
With Doris and Ruth and Betty Ann,
And just any one who willed
To sit with her in the magic chair ,
But really and truly no one is there .

She’d put her babies all to bed
With some terrible ache or pain ,
And have the doctor even declare
He’d soon have them all well again .
And with all the medicine he would give ,He is almost sure that they will live.

She’d dress up in her mother’s things
With skirt and shoes and hose,
And make the cutest gestures ,
As she trips around on toes,
Which reminds us that alas!
Her baby days will soon be passed .

May her really grown up days
Just as happy be,
As the fancied ones she spent
Sitting upon your knee ,
With not a disappointment there
To dim her sweet face with tear .
Jan Bagwell
May you be Blessed with God presence and have the faith of a child .

God’s most Amazing Grace

If there had been another way ,
Do you think He would have died
No other man could take his place ,
Not even if one tried .

God did not ask for volunteers ,
But even if He had ,
Would you have said ,” Take me instead ?”
Folks would have thought you mad .

None of us was good enough,
To take His place upon that cross ,
None of us was rich enough ,
To have paid that high a cost .

It’s hard to believe a loving God ,
Would sacrifice His Son
But it had to be that way , you see ,
He was the only One

He took our sin along with Him ,
As directed from above ,
None of us so generous ,
We would offer that much love ,

He said He would leave the tomb ,
He would ascend to heaven ,
Three days later He was gone,
Hallelujah ! He was Risen !

Brother , you could not substitute
You could not take his place ,
He took yours-the only way ,
God Most Amazing Grace !!!

God Bless you my friend
jan Bagwell

Red Marbles

RED MARBLES

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?" asked Mr. Miller.

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it" said Miller.

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" the store owner asked.

"Not zackley but almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble" . Mr. Miller told the boy.

"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store."

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Greenville, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Easley community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's b artering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt."

"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in South Carolina ."

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.


The Moral : We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~
A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself.
An unexpected phone call from an old friend.
Green stoplights on your way to work.
The fastest line at the grocery store.
A good sing-along song on the radio.
Your keys found right where you left them.

God Bless
Jan Bagwell

An Unexpected Moment

An Unexpected Moment
=====================

It was hard to watch her fail. Physically she was growing
thinner and more stooped. Mentally she was losing her ability
to sort out reality. Initially, my grandmother had railed
angrily against the symptoms of Alzheimer's disease that were
eroding who she had always been.

Eventually, the anger gave way to frustration and then
resignation. My grandmother had always been a strong woman.
She had a career before it was common for women to have careers.
She was independent. In her eighties, she was still dragging
out her stepladder every spring to wash all the windows in her
house. She was also a woman with a deep faith in God.

As my grandmother lost her ability to live alone, my father
moved her into his home. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren
were often in the house. She seemed to enjoy being surrounded
by the noise and activity of a large, extended family.

As she slipped further away from us mentally, my grandmother
would occasionally have moments of lucidity when she knew where
she was and recognized everyone around her. We never knew what
prompted those moments, when they would occur or how long they
would last.

Toward the end of her life she became convinced that her mother
had knit everything she owned. "Mama knit my boots," she would
tell strangers, holding up a foot clad in galoshes. "Mama knit
my coat," she would say with a vacant smile as she zipped up her
raincoat. Soon we were putting on her boots for her and helping
her zip up her coat.

During my grandmother's last autumn with us, we decided to take
a family outing. We packed up the cars and went to a local fair
for a day of caramel apples, craft booths and carnival rides.
Grandma loved flowers, so my dad bought her a rose. She carried
it proudly through the fair, stopping often to breathe in its
fragrance.

Grandma couldn't go on the carnival rides, of course, so she sat
on a bench close by and waited while the rest of the family
rode. Her moments of lucidity were now a thing of the past
having eluded her for months, but she seemed content to sit and
watch as life unfolded around her.

While the youngest members of the family ran, laughing to get in
line at the next ride, my father took my grandmother to the
nearest bench. A sullen-looking young woman already occupied
the bench but said she wouldn't mind sharing the bench.
"Mama knit my coat," my grandmother told the young woman as she
sat down.

We didn't let my grandmother out of our sight, and when we came
back to the bench to get her, the young woman was holding the
rose. She looked as though she had been crying. "Thank you for
sharing your grandmother with me," she said. Then she told us
her story. She had decided that day was to be her last on
Earth. In deep despair and feeling she had nothing to live for,
she was planning to go home and commit suicide.
While she sat on that bench with Grandma as the carnival noises
swirled around them, she found herself pouring out her troubles.

"Your grandmother listened to me," the young woman informed us.
"She told me about a time in her own life, during the
Depression, when she had lost hope. She told me that God loved
me and that He would watch over me and would help me make it
through my problems. She gave me this rose. She told me that
my life would unfold just like this rose and that I would be
surprised by its beauty. She told me my life was a gift. She
said she would be praying for me."

We stood, dumbfounded, as she hugged my grandmother and thanked
her for saving her life. Grandma just smiled a vacant smile and
patted her arm. As the young woman turned to leave, she waved
good-bye to us. Grandma waved back and then turned to look at
us, still standing in amazement.

"Mama knit my hat," she said.