I Don't Regret A mile

I Don't Regret A Mile
======================

I've dreamed many dreams that never came true.
I've seen them vanish at dawn.
But I've realized enough of my dreams, thank God,
To make me want to dream on.

I've prayed many prayers, when no answers came,
Though I waited patient and long,
But answers came to enough of my prayers
To make me keep praying on.

I've trusted many a friend that failed
And left me to weep alone,
But I've found enough of my friends true blue
To make me keep trusting on.

I've sown many seeds that fell by the way
For the birds to feed upon,
But I have held enough golden sheaves in my hands
To make me keep sowing on.

I've drained the cup of disappointment and pain
And gone many days without song,
But I've sipped enough nectar from the roses of life
To make me want to live on.
Jan Bagwell
God Bless
Please be in prayer for Rev David Bagwell and his wife Hali . And sister Mary Carpenter and Brad Rogers.

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.
Thank you for this Liza Durham ,there are angels among us .
God does speak to us in so many ways ,sometimes, we just fail to listen .
Jan Bagwell
God Bless

Love Island

Love Island


Once upon a time there was an island where all the feelings
lived; happiness, sadness, knowledge, and all the others,
including love.

One day it was announced to all of the feelings that the island
was going to sink to the bottom of the ocean.
So all the feelings prepared their boats to leave.

Love was the only one that stayed. She wanted to preserve
the island paradise until the last possible moment.

When the island was almost totally under, Love decided it was
time to leave. She began looking for someone to ask for help.
Just then Richness was passing by in a grand boat. Love asked,
"Richness, Can I come with you on your boat?"
Richness answered, " I'm sorry, but there is a lot of silver and
gold on my boat and there would be no room for you anywhere."

Then Love decided to ask Vanity for help who was passing in a
beautiful vessel. Love cried out, "Vanity, help me please."
"I can't help you", Vanity said, "You are all wet and will
damage my beautiful boat."

Next, Love saw Sadness passing by. Love said, "Sadness, please
let me go with you." Sadness answered, "Love, I'm sorry, but, I
just need to be alone now."

Then, Love saw Happiness. Love cried out, " Happiness, please
take me with you." But Happiness was so overjoyed that he
didn't hear Love calling to him.

Love began to cry. Then, she heard a voice say, "Come Love,
I will take you with me." It was an elder.

Love felt so blessed and overjoyed that she forgot to ask the
elder his name.

When they arrived on land the elder went on his way.
Love realized how much she owed the elder.

Love then found Knowledge and asked,
"Who was it that helped me?"

"It was Time", Knowledge answered.

"But why did Time help me when no one else would?", Love asked.

Knowledge smiled and with deep wisdom and sincerity, answered,
"Because only Time is capable of understanding how great Love is."
Jan Bagwell
God Bless

Thank you for inviting Jan Bagwell Ministries in your mailbox.
See you tomorrow

The Battles Within

The Battles Within
===================

I was reading the summaries of the New York Times 10 Best Books
of The Year. One of the books, "The Republic of Suffering" was
about the American Civil War. I had not realized the extent of
the deaths of the war. Here is an excerpt from the book:

"In the middle of the nineteenth century, the United States
embarked on a new relationship with death, entering into a
civil war that proved bloodier than any other conflict in
American history, a war that would presage the slaughter of
World War I's Western Front and the global carnage of the
twentieth century.

The number of soldiers who died between 1861 and 1865, an
estimated 620,000, is approximately equal to the total American
fatalities in the Revolution, the War of 1812, the Mexican War,
the Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II, and the
Korean War combined. The Civil War's rate of death, its
incidence in comparison with the size of the American
population, was six times that of World War II. A similar rate,
about 2 percent, in the United States today would mean six
million fatalities."

Approximately 50,000 U.S. soldiers were killed in Vietnam and
almost 5,000 in the war in Iraq. The civil war took over ten
times MORE lives than those two U.S. conflicts.

So what's the big deal ?

It is home.

Conflict at home causes more damage than conflict among strangers
and those outside of our homes, that's why.

It's true in war. It's true in our personal lives. We've lost
more people and peace fighting among ourselves than we've lost
fighting others who are neither close in blood or heart.

So it was then.
So it is now.
So it shall be.

The devil is saying this to us,
"Fools are worrying about nations not getting along
and I have them not getting along with the people in their office
I've got them at war with the people they see everyday
I have them at war with the people under the same roof
I even have them at war with the person in the same bed."

So why am I writing this to Christian ? I seen and heard poeple attacking their Pastor, Church brother and sisters , their mothers , their chhildren their wives , and all menbers of their family . So before we can make a diferent in the world , we must make a different in our churches ,and our families . If I won the world and lost my soul I would have gain nothing .
Jan Bagwell
God Bless

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 Idaho 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
bartering 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 Six Mile ."

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.
Jan Bagwell
God Bless
Remember the person you bless today , might be their memory of you for a life time !