Carl Sandburg said it best…

“Nothing happens but first a dream.”

* * *

The Impossible Dream
(an excerpt from Dreams Are Whispers from the Soul)

By Marcia Wieder

I was speaking at a church near Portland, Oregon when I met Wilson. A bright-eyed 18 year old, he confided in me that he was a Masai warrior from Kenya, Africa and this was his first time away from his tribe. I asked what he was doing in Oregon and he told me his story.

“When I was young, I became ill and my mother took me to a medical clinic. From that day forward, my dream was to become a doctor. But it was impossible since there was no training available and no one left the tribe. It just wasn’t done.”

“As I grew up I shared my dream with anyone who would listen. Everyone, including my own family, told me it was a fantasy and to forget about it. But I never did. Recently, a writer came from your country to visit my tribe. He interviewed me and published my story. Perhaps you know the paper, The Washington Post?”

I smiled and nodded.

He continued, “A couple from Portland read my story and within a matter of weeks I was invited to apply for undergraduate work at the University of Oregon. A few months later, I was accepted.”

I took a deep breath and said, “That’s extraordinary. You must have been so happy.”

His response startled me. “Actually, it was extremely painful. My family didn’t have the money or any other resources to send me off to America on what they considered to be a whim. I knew there was only one thing to do. I prayed for a miracle. And Marcia,” he paused. “That’s what I got.”

“Four families each came forward to generously extend their hearts and hands. Each agreed to house me, to feed me, to buy my books and be my family, while I was so far from home.”

I swallowed hard as my eyes welled up. But what he said next rocked my world.

Read More

Comments (0) Sep 20 2008

All stories copyright 2008 Bob Perks
Today’s message:
“Remember, yours, mine and hours”
by Bob Perks

..

You can read all about them.

You see them on television daily.

But what about those who love them?

Soldiers.

I have forced myself to watch news reports of units being
deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan. I say “forced” because
it always pains me. You know I hate goodbyes.

I run to the television when I hear about a returning soldier or
unit. You couldn’t stop me from smiling if you hit me with a
baseball bat. I love happy endings.

Until last weekend though, I had never been up close, face to
face with anyone who had served over there or whose loved
one was presently deployed there.

I was about to speak to nearly one hundred family members of
the New Jersey National Guard. Their loved ones just left a few
days before.

What could I say that would make a difference?

“I could only imagine.” No, I couldn’t.

“I understand how you must feel.” I couldn’t possibly.

“This time will go by fast.” Being away from someone you love
never goes by fast.

So, I opened by saying “I believe in you!”

I do. I believe in the God Who created each of us and I know
what we are all capable of. But someone needs to remind us.

At 1800 hours I was to have dinner with the families and staff
of the Family Readiness Group. I love military time. It
clearly reminds me of exactly how many hours I have lived or
wasted each day. 1800 is 6:00 p.m. telling me 18 hours has
passed. “What have you done with them?”

Having met most of the people at my table earlier in the day,
I didn’t need to go about the introductions. I got to listen.

Go stand in a crowd of people. Look around you. They look
like ordinary, regular folks.

So do the military. If it weren’t for the uniforms, you would just
think they were teachers, plumbers, cooks, or insurance
salesmen.

They are in fact, your neighbors, friends and perhaps your loved
ones. The difference is, when they go to work they are protecting
your life, your rights, your children and they are putting their lives
on the line for it all.

But what about the families left behind. Wives, husbands, girl/boy
friends, mothers and fathers are all back here counting the 2400 hours
that pass by ever so slowly while we all go about our day living the life
they are protecting.

I stood up to speak to them.

I am asking you to stand up and speak “for” them.

In New Jersey and every state in America, there are family gatherings
unlike anything you have experienced. These families are separated
from those they love. They meet, plan, organize and quietly raise funds
to provide services, resources, support and activities for the children and
spouses of deployed military.

Whether you agree with the war or not, it makes no difference. These
are our families, your families, your neighbors or friends.

Find them. Reach out and offer your help, financially, spiritually,
and personally.

As I spoke that Sunday morning at 0900 hours, I opened with my piece

Read More

Comments (1) Sep 10 2008