Special stories passed on

Thanks, Donna-marie!



~I Got Your Back~

I am a small and precious child,

my dads been sent to fight...

The only place I'll see his face,

is in my dreams at night.

He will be gone too many days

for my young mind to keep track.

I may be sad, but I am proud.

My daddy's got your back...





I am a caring mother.

My son has gone to war...

My mind is filled with worries

that I have never known before.

Everyday I try to keep

my thoughts from turning black.

I may be scared, but I am proud.

My son has got your back...





I am a strong and loving wife,

with a husband who had to go.

There are times I'm terrified

in a way most never know.

I bite my lip, and force a smile

as I watch my husband pack...

My heart may break, but I am proud.

My husbands got your back...





I am a soldier...

Serving Proudly, standing tall.

I fight for freedom, yours and mine

by answering this call.

I do my job while knowing,

the thanks it sometimes lacks.

Say a prayer that I'll come home.

It's me who's got your back.

(author unknown)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks, bigsis!



[

Never underestimate the power of your actions.

With one small gesture you can change a person's life.



This was sent to me by Ladybird!!





Filling Station Christmas



The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't

been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. He had no

decorations,

no tree, no lights. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate

Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. There were no

children in his life. His wife had gone



He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the

last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a

homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, George,

Old George, as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit

by the space heater and warm-up.



"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see

you're busy. I'll just go"

"Not without something hot in your belly," George turned and opened a

wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's

hot and tasty. Stew. Made it myself. When you're done there's coffee and

it's

fresh."



Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse

me, be right back," George said.



There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of

the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the

driver

with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is

broken."



George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from

the cold; the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said

as he turned away.



"But mister. Please help...."The door of the office closed behind

George as he went in. George went to the office wall and got the keys to

his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building and

opened

the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple

was waiting.



"Here, you can borrow my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you

ever looked at, but she runs real good."



George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into

the night. George turned and walked back inside the office.



"Glad I loaned em the truck. Their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck

has brand new tires......."

George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone.

The thermos was on the desk, empty with a used coffee cup beside it.



"Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought. George

went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly,

but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been.

He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve

meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just

the bottom hose on the radiator.



"Well, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on..

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the

snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he

wasn't going to drive the car.



As he was working he heard a shot being fired. He ran outside and beside

a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the

left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Help me." George helped the officer

inside

as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic.

He knew the wound needed attention.



"Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The laundry company had

been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and

duct tape to bind the wound.



"Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the

policeman feel at ease. "Something for pain," George thought. All he

had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put

some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills.



"You hang in there. I'm going to get you an ambulance." George said, but

the phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that

there talk box out in your police car."



He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the

dashboard destroying the two way radio. He went back in to find the

policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me

in there.

The guy that shot me is still in the area."



George sat down beside him. "I would never leave an injured man in the

Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to

check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right

through

'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with

time your gonna be right as rain."



George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he

asked.

"None for me," said the officer.



"Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city." Then George added: "Too

bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same

time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a

gun.



"Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was

shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this

before.



"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are you

doing this?" asked George. "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody

else might get hurt."



The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too.

Now give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun.



"Put that thing away," George said to the cop. "We got one too many

in here now."



He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve.. If

you need the money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now

put that pee shooter away."



George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young

man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young

man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry..



"I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for

my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job. My rent is due My car got

repossessed last week..."



George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze

now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the

best we can."



He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across

from the cop "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man

a cup of coffee. "Being stupid is one of the things that makes us human.

Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm

and we'll sort this thing out."



The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I

shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."



"Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said. George could hear the

sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt.

Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck, you OK?"

"Not bad for a guy who just took a bullet." "How'd you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread." "Who did this?"

The other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck answered him,

"I don't know, the guy ran off into the dark." George and the young man

both looked at each other puzzled. "That guy works here," the wounded

cop continued."

"Yep, George said, "Just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young

man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"



Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas, boy. And you too, George, and

thanks for everything."



"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to

solve some of your problems." George went into the back room and came out

with

a box. He pulled out a ring

"Here you go. Something for the little woman. I don't think Martha

would mind. She said it would come in handy some day." The young man

looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take

this,"

said the young man. "It means something to you." "And now it

means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I

need."





George reached into the box again. A toy airplane, a racing car and

a little metal truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company

had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."



The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old

man had handed him earlier. "And what are you supposed to buy

Christmas dinner with? "You keep that, too. Count it as part of your first

week's

pay." George said. "Now git home to your family."



The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here

in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good." "Nope. I'm

closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya' the day after."



George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd

you come from? I thought you left?"



"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say

you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?" "Well, after my wife passed away

I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and

all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to

with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was getting a

little chubby."



The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate

the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was

cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become

a great doctor.



The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed

by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will become a rich man

and share his wealth with many people.



That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."



George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you

know all this?" asked George.



"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And

when your days are done you will be with Martha again." The stranger moved

toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now.

There is a big celebration planned."



George watched as the man's old leather jacket and his torn pants

turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.



"You see, George, it's My birthday.

Merry Christmas."



Author Unknown

Subject: Dad's empty chair!!!



A man's daughter had asked the local minister to come and pray

with her father.

When the minister arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows.

An empty chair sat beside his bed.

The minister assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me, he said.

"No, who are you?" said the father.

The minister told him his name and then remarked, "I saw the empty chair and I figured you knew I was going to show up,"

"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man.

"Would you mind closing the door?" Puzzled, the minister shut the door.

"I have never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man. "But all of my life I have never known how to pray.

At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head.

I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day four years ago, my best friend said to me, Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus.

Here is what I suggest.

"Sit down in a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair.

It's not spooky because he promised that "I will be with you always". "Then just speak to him in the same way you're doing with me right now."

"So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a

couple of hours every day.

I'm careful though.

If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm." The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey.

Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the minister that her daddy had died that afternoon. "Did he die in peace?" he asked.

"Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek.

When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange about his death.

Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on the chair beside the bed.

What do you make of that?"

The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I wish we could all go like that."



Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive.



I asked God for water,

He gave me an ocean.



I asked God for a flower,

He gave me a garden.



I asked God for a friend,

He gave me all of YOU!

[img]images/smiley_icons/friends.gif[/img] This was sent to me by Mawmaw!! Get the kleenx out!!



Please read .....



I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college kids racing around with longneck beers and sizzling platters.



Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely "military:" clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look that comes with pride.



Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this very booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East. That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back to this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn he would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking about him until he returned home to me.



I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better? Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.



"I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he is even in office. You do know, he stole the election."



I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an endless tirade running down our president. I thought about the last night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me chills.



Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent people they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you know."



My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.



"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the military budget at the expense of our social security and education. And, you know what else? We're just asking for another 9-ll. I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."



Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom? Do they even know what "freedom" is?



I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each other dejectedly, listening to the women talking.



"Well, I, for one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train professional baby killers we call a military."



Professional baby killers? I thought about what a wonderful father my husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our children again.



That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one voice will answer on behalf of our military, and let her pride in our troops be known.



Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with them, I smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.



You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway around the world defending your right to say rotten things about him."



"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of my business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY husband, and all the other fine American men and women who put their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to complain. Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions cheapen it."



I must have been louder that I meant to be, because the manager came over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I replied. Then turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of your meal."



As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked up their check and scurried away.



After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."



With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what you did."



As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too, were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers. I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day.



Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their pride in our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just maybe, the two women who were railing against our country, would pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers, and the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.



As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference. Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own. It will simply say, "Thank You!"



(*Lori Kimble is a 31 year old teacher and proud military wife. A California native, Mrs. Kimble currently lives in Alabama)



To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the protected will never know. GOD BLESS AMERICA!

(This was included with the above email)



At 10 am yesterday morning I received a prayer request from Cathy Mitchell. Her husband, Tony, is an Air Force Commander in Afghanistan. She received an urgent email from him this morning. It said, "We need Christians to pray, pray, pray." Please pray for God's protection of our troops and HIS wisdom for their commanders. Pass this on to as many as you think will respond. "Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need. I ask this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior."



When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground, air and navy personnel in every area of the middle east. There is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful.... Just send this to all the people in your address book.



Do not stop this prayer chain, please.... Of all the gifts you could give to anyone in the US Military, be it Air Force, Army, Navy, Marines or National Guard, Prayer is the very best one.....Amen!







[img]images/smiley_icons/friends.gif[/img]

Here is one from Donna Marie!!



Stupid Fix

===========



Below is an actual e-mail from my brother, James, the computer

engineer. He has provided me with countless hours of major help

and technical support with MountainWings.



Tonight, he was having problems getting his organizer to

synchronize with his desktop computer. We both have one of

those high tech organizers with a phone, pager, organizer, web

browser, e-mail and other stuff all built in. He couldn't get

it to transfer data to his desktop computer, something that he

had been doing for months.



"It just stopped working," he said.



I asked him various questions and he said of course he'd checked

that. I asked him if he checked the USB cord.



"Of course," he said.



You must be fairly computer literate to understand and

appreciate this, but if you are, you will get the meaning.



Below is his e-mail to me:

----------------------------------------------



Subject: Stupid Fix



It's been awhile since I've had one of these, but this was one

of those fixes where you are just ashamed to mention.



After rebooting 40 times and installing new patches and software

and uninstalling and reinstalling them. I had checked to make

sure that USB cord was in good and had moved it to different

slots on the hub.



I finally realized that the whole USB hub was unplugged!



My printer and mouse were plugged straight into the USB ports on

the computer, so even though I had four other devices plugged in

to the USB hub I wasn't using them and the green lights

were all on.



You told me it sounded like a USB problem, next time just tell

me it sounds like a USB hub problem!

-----------------------------------------------



Life is often like that. The solution to our seemingly

unsolvable and super complicated problem is really very simple.



We just can't see the answer - a basic connection is unplugged.



We aren't stupid, we are looking for far more complicated

solutions.



1. "I'm sorry."

2. "I love you."

3. "Forgive me."

4. "You were right."

5. "Maybe mama was right."

6. "I'll just let it go."

7. "It's not really that important."

8. "It's just ego, I'm acting like a baby."

9. "Let me just calm down."

10."Let me look at it from their point of view."



These are ten things that may help us see a simple solution to

what has been looking like an overly complicated problem.



We are often not connecting and the fix is simple, but we have

to do the plugging up.



It's not a stupid fix, anything that fixes something isn't

stupid.



Overlooking an unplugged connection, that's an oversight.



Refusing to make a needed connection, now that's stupid.



Check your connections.





~A MountainWings Original~

This is one My Brother sent me and thought it was worth sharing!!



One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school.

His name was Kyle.

It looked like he was carrying all of his books.

I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a weekend?

He must really be a nerd."

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him.

They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt.

His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him.

He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him.

So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.

As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives. "

He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!"

There was a big smile on his face.

It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived.

As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before.

He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books.

He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends.

He said yes.

We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday! " He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends.

When we were seniors, we began to think about college.

Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke.

I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem.

He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class.

I teased him all the time about being a nerd.

He had to prepare a speech for graduation.

I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.

Graduation day, I saw Kyle.

He looked great.

He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school.

He filled out and actually looked good in glasses.

He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him.

Boy, sometimes I was jealous.

Today was one of those days.

I could see that he was nervous about his speech.

So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"

He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years.

Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach...but mostly your friends... I am here to tell all of you that being friend to someone is the best gift you can give the I am going to tell you a story."

I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met.

He had planned to kill himself over the weekend.

He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.

He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved.

My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.

I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile.

Not until that moment did I realize it's depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions.

With one small gesture you can change a person's life.

For better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way.

Look for God in others.