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What Makes Jesus Unique? No one else made the claims that He did, He is alive...............



All the great religious leaders of history have one thing in common: they are dead. Only one man has risen from a grave never again to taste death. Jesus Christ died, was buried, remained in the grave for 3 days, then was raised to life again.

Jesus is unique. He is the only one proven to be the Son of God because God validated His Kingship and accepted His payment for our sins all with one incredible stroke: He raised Jesus from the dead!

Paul opens his letter to the Romans with this evidence about who Jesus is:
Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, separated unto the gospel of God, which He had promised before by His prophets in the holy scriptures, concerning His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who was made of the seed of David according to the flesh, and declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the Spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead. Romans 1:1-4

Because Jesus Christ is very much alive, five things are true right now that wouldn’t be true if He were just another dead religious leader like Confucius, Mohammed or Buddha.

Because Jesus was raised from the dead and is alive…Prayers are answered, We can talk to Jesus 24/7

Comments (593)

Batting all alone

Faith - we shall see - is sometimes a collective and sometimes a very private matter.
When a nation unites to defend its peace and freedom against an invading enemy,
we see an illustration of collective faith. But when an institution delegates enormous
decision-making powers to the chief executive officer, the decisions will become
painfully private. The presidency of the United States has been described as the
loneliest office for that very reason. The buck stops at his desk. He is up to bat.
Alone! One man against the world.

Faith, we soon discover, is a very private matter. Our most important decisions
cannot be passed off to anyone else. Consider the basic decisions:

(1) What am I going to do? What career will I pursue? In a free society, you,
and you alone, must decide! Out in front of you are nine members of another
team plus a stand full of spectators watching to see how you will perform! No
state bureaucracy will select a profession for you! That's being in the batter's
box alone!

(2) Who will be my one essential friend? Whom shall I marry? Or shall I remain
single? No government agency, no academic advisory council can make that
decision for you. You are in the batter's box - alone! That calls for strong, private
faith!

(3) What religious choice will I make? I can choose to believe in nothing or I can
choose to believe in something. Atheism or theism.

It's your decision. You're up to bat. You can't avoid the moment. Sure, you can run
scared, throw the bat to someone else in the dugout - avoid the choice - call yourself an agnostic. But then - face the consequences - you're out of the game!

Choose faith: take a swing at it! Become a believer.

After all - faith is the only positive option open to you. The other alternatives are
negative! And nothing positive ever follows negative decisions!

A Birth Certificate shows that we were born
A Death Certificate shows that we died
Pictures show that we live!
Have a seat. Relax . . .
And read this slowly.

I Believe...
That just because two people argue,
It doesn't mean they don't love each other.
And just because they don't argue,
It doesn't mean they do love each other.

I Believe...
That we don't have to change friends if
We understand that friends change.

I Believe....
That no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you,
every once in a while
and you must forgive them for that.

I Believe.....
That true friendship continues to grow,
even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.

I Believe...
That you can do something in an instant
That will give you heartache for life.

I Believe....
That it's taking me a long time
To become the person I want to be.

I Believe...
That you should always leave loved ones with Loving words.
It may be the last time you see them.

I Believe....
That you can keep going long after you think you can't.

I Believe....
That we are responsible for what
We do, no matter how we feel.
I Believe...
That either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I Believe....
That heroes are the people
who do what has to be done
when it needs to be done,
regardless of the consequences.

I Believe....
That my best friend and I
can do anything or nothing
and have the best time..

I Believe....
That sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I Believe...
That sometimes when I'm angry
I have the right to be angry, but that
doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I Believe...
That maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had
And what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I Believe.....
That it isn't always enough,
to be forgiven by others.
Sometimes, you have to learn
to forgive yourself.

I Believe...
That no matter how bad
your heart is broken,
the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I Believe....
That our background and circumstances
may have influenced who we are, but,
we are responsible for who we become.


I Believe...
That you shouldn't be
so eager to find out a secret.
It could change your life forever.

I Believe....
Two people can look at the exact same
Thing and see something totally different.

I Believe...
That your life can be changed
in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.

I Believe...
That even when you think
you have no more to give,
When a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.

I Believe...
That credentials on the wall
do not make you a decent human being.

I Believe...
That the people you care about
most in life
are taken from you too soon.

I Believe...
That you should send this to
all of the people that you believe in.
I just did.

'The happiest of people don't necessarily have
the best of everything;
They just make the most of everything they have.

Received in an email from Helen P. in Ontario, Canada
Thanks my friend.

Those Who Wait upon the Lord

The storm has passed.
The birds are singing.
The night is over.
Tough times never last.
Tough people do!

That's really true if we live moment by moment, day by day,
in complete surrender to God in prayer. Through prayer, God
gives the power to hold on to tough times until the breakthrough comes.

But those who wait on the Lord
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint. (Isa. 40:31)

I have found immense strength through this promise of God. As
I wait upon Him in prayer I find the strength to go on. The terrible
danger in tough times is that we lose our emotional power to remain
enthusiastic and creative. But the solution God offers is prayer, the
power that pulls everything together successfully.


Coffee anyone?
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things
were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and
wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one
problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed
each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots,
in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.
She let them sit and boil, without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out
and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.
Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see."
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and
noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg
and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled
as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean,
mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity
boiling water. Each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being
subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior,
but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling
water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your
door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I?

Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and
become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable
heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a
breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and
stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with
a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very
circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the
fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst,
you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the
darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level?
How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?



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The Wisdom of the Soul

1. No one can ruin your day without YOUR permission.

2. Most people will be about as happy, as they decide to be.

3. Others can stop you temporarily, only you can do it permanently.

4. Whatever you are willing to put up with, is exactly
what you will have.

5. Success stops when you do.

6. When your ship comes in. ... make
sure you are willing to unload it.

7. You will never "have it all together."

8. Life is a journey.....not a destination. Enjoy the trip!

9. The biggest lie on the planet: "When I get what I want
I will be happy."

10. The best way to escape your problem is to solve it.

11. I've learned that ultimately 'takers' lose and 'givers' win.

12. Life's precious moments don't have value, unless they are shared.

13. If you don't start, it's certain you won't arrive.

14. We often fear the things we want the most.

15. Everyone hears what you say. Friends listen to what you have
to say. Best friends listen to what you don't say!

16. Yesterday was the deadline for all complaints.

17. Look for opportunities...not guarantees.

18. Life is what is coming...not what was.

19. Success is getting up one more time.

20. Now is the most interesting time of all.

21. When things go wrong.....don't go with them.

22. Sometimes the majority only means that all
the fools are on the same side.

23. God can mend all broken hearts ... You just
have to give Him all the pieces.

24. A person who asks a question might be a fool
for five minutes, but a person who doesn't ask,
is a fool forever.

25. A best friend is like a four leaf clover ... hard to find,
and lucky to have.

26. A friend is someone who reaches
for your hand but touches your heart.

27. I don't have to attend every argument
I'm invited to.

28. Eyes are placed in front because it is
more important to look ahead than to look behind.
Sleep When the Wind Blows

Years ago, a farmer owned land along the Atlantic seacoast. He constantly
advertised for hired hands. Most people were reluctant to work on farms along the
Atlantic. They dreaded the awful storms that raged across the Atlantic, wreaking
havoc on the buildings and crops.

As the farmer interviewed applicants for the job, he received a steady stream of refusals.

Finally, a short, thin man, well past middle age, approached the farmer.
"Are you a good farm hand?" the farmer asked him.

"Well, I can sleep when the wind blows," answered the little man.

Although puzzled by this answer, the farmer, desperate for help, hired him.
The little man worked well around the farm, busy from dawn to dusk, and the
farmer felt satisfied with the man's work.

Then one night the wind howled loudly in from offshore. Jumping out of bed, the farmer
grabbed a lantern and rushed next door to the hired hand's sleeping quarters. He shook
the little man and yelled, "Get up! A storm is coming! Tie things down before they blow away!"

The little man rolled over in bed and said firmly, "No sir. I told you, I can sleep when the wind blows."

Enraged by the response, the farmer was tempted to fire him on the spot. Instead,
he hurried outside to prepare for the storm.

To his amazement, he discovered that all of the haystacks had been covered with tarpaulins.
The cows were in the barn, the chickens were in the coops, and the doors were barred.
The shutters were tightly secured. Everything was tied down.

Nothing could blow away. The farmer then understood what his hired hand meant,
so he returned to his bed to also sleep while the wind blew.

When you're prepared, spiritually, mentally, and physically, you have nothing to fear.
Can you sleep when the wind blows through your life?

The hired hand in the story was able to sleep because he had secured the farm against the storm.

We secure ourselves against the storms of life by grounding ourselves in the Word of God.
We don't need to understand, we just need to hold His hand to have peace in the middle of storms.

I hope you enjoy your day and you sleep well tonight and every night!




POLICE OFFICERS
When the Lord was creating police officers, he was into his sixth day of
working overtime when an angel appeared and said, "You sure are doing a lot
of fiddling around on this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you read the specs on this order?

A police officer has to be able to run five miles through alleys in the
dark, scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, and not
wrinkle his uniform. "He has to be able to sit in an undercover car all day
on a stakeout, cover a homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood
for witnesses, and testify in court the next day. "He has to be in top
physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and half-eaten
meals. And he has to have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands... no way."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's
the three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

The Lord nodded. One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before he
asks, "May I see what's in there, sir?" (When he already knows and wishes
he'd taken that accounting job.)

"Another pair here in the side of his head for his partners' safety.

And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a
bleeding victim and say, 'You'll be all right ma'am, when he knows it isn't
so."

"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, " why don't you rest and work
on this tomorrow."
"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250
pound drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on
a civil service paycheck."

The angel circled the model of the police officer very slowly, "Can it
think?" she asked.

"You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the elements of a hundred
crimes; recite Miranda warnings in its sleep; detain, investigate, search,
and arrest a gang member on the street in less time than it takes five
learned judges to debate the legality of the stop... and still it keeps its
sense of humor.

This officer also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with crime
scenes painted in hell, coax a confession from a child abuser, comfort a
murder victim's family, and then read in the daily paper how law enforcement
isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the
police officer. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were
trying to put too much into this model."

"That's not a leak," said the lord, "it's a tear."

"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that
funny piece of cloth called the American flag, for justice."

"You're a genius," said the angel.

The Lord looked somberly at the angel and said. "I'm no genius, I didn't
put the tear in his eye!
If everyone would just light one little candle, what a bright world it would be

It is better to light just one little candle
Than to stumble in the dark
Better far that you light just one little candle
All you need is a tiny spark
If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle
What a bright world this would be

When the day is dark and dreary
And we know not where to go;
Don't let your heart go weary
Just keep this thought in mind...

It is better to light just one little candle
Than to stumble in the dark
Better far that you light just one little candle
All you need is a tiny spark
If we'd all say a prayer that the world would be free
A wonderful dawn of a new day we'd see...
And if everyone lit just one little candle
What a bright world this would be
Send friends a Fathers day message! or Do some More Reading


A Fathers' love

I got sent home from school one day with a shiner on my eye
Fighting was against the rules and it didn't matter why
When Dad got home I told that story just like I'd rehearsed
Then stood there on those trembling knees and waited for the worst

And he said, Let me tell you a secret, about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
He said daddies don't just love their children every now and then
It?s a love without end, amen, it's a love without end, amen.

When I became a father in the spring of '81
There was no doubt that stubborn boy was just like my father's son
And when I thought my patience had been tested to the end
I took my daddy's secret and I passed it on to him

And I said, Let me tell you a secret, about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
I said daddies don't just love their children every now and then
It?s a love without end, amen, it's a love without end, amen.

Last night I dreamed I'd died and stood outside those pearly gates
When suddenly I realized there must be some mistake
If they know half the stuff I done they'll never let me in
Then somewhere from the other side, I heard these words again

And they said, Let me tell you a secret, about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
You see daddies don't just love their children every now and then
It's a love without end, amen, it]s a love without end, amen!!!!!!

For VictorHeavenly Father, you are the guard and guide of
all who place their trust in you.

Give us believing minds and trusting hearts.

You know the cares that often beset us and torment us.

You see the path that stretches out before us more
clearly than our eyes can discern it.

Forgive the anxieties that cloud our minds and consume our energies.

In you and your promised word, may we rest and be strong.

Save us, Father, from undue self concern from dark fears, from distrust in your care.

Into your hand of love, we place our hands, and we face the future unafraid.

So shall your peace, which passes all understanding, be our strength and joy.

Then each passing day will bring new proof of your love and faithfulness.

At this moment, we rise to discover your plan, and this we
pray in the name of him who is the victory,
Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.y Over Fear


!!!An Office and life in general Prayer!!!

Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing OLDER and will some day be old.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and occasion.

Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.

Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord,
that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details: give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming
sweeter as years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others pains, but
help me endure with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksuredness when
my memory seems to clash with the memory of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet: I do not want to be a saint--some of them are so hard to live with-- but
a sour faced person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents
in unexpected people, and give me Lord the grace to tell them so!

Amen!

THE ROOM
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a
class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later
told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the best thing I ever
wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it
while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every
piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his
homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering
Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's
life But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore
realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such
an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there."
Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was
driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce
Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the
wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family
portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I
think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore
said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision
of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know
I'll see him."
Part one;....................
Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the
room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in
libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.
But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near
the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read
"Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards.
I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names
written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I
was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for
my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small,
in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity,
coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and
exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a
sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder
to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have
Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed
at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled
at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My
Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never
ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I
hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of
these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this
truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my
signature. .................Part two
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized
the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly,
and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I
shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the
vast wasted time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run
through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test
its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost
animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever
see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy
them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter
now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end
and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card.
I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as
steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning
my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it.. The title was "People I Have Shared the Gospel
With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost
unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three
inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on
one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt.
They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and
cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The
rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever,
ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as
I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly
as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to
watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at
His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

Dear Mr. God
I'm sorry for keepin' ya up late.
But, I wanna know
If'n you're too busy, I can wait.

You see grandma's been forgettin'
A lot of things. Mamma says so.
She forgot my name, today, Mr. God,
And she's a walkin' kinda slow.

Yesterday, she jest left
Without even sayin' bye.
Daddy brought her back and
He had a tear in his eye.

So, I was wonderin', can you fix her?
She has somthun' called 'all tizers', daddy said.
She forgets who we are sometimes,
And she forgot that grandpa's dead.

Mr. God, you give her a new brememberer
'Cause I miss her playin', and stuff, with me
And the cookies she used to bake.
And, she was so smart, wasn't she?

She used to talk 'bout you a lot.
Now, she jest talks to herself and,
Mr. God, she don't know herself
From the pictures on the shelf.

Sometimes, she calls me 'little boy'
And pats my cheek or hair.
And she don't seem to care.

Please, Mr. God,
Will ya fix her, all new again,
A'fore she gets lost and
Can't bremember where she's been?

She ain't sang a Jesus song
Like I like to hear her to do.
Daddy says 'cause she is getting old.
But, she's not as old as you.

Daddy says you never forget and
You are older than anyone, anywhere.
Mamma says, "All we can do is
Bremember her in prayer.

So, Mr. God, I'm jest askin'
'Cause I don't know how to pray.
'Cause you un'erstand what I try to say.

Does Jesus have a grandma
And does she forget people, too?
I guess she would be your mommy
And wouldn't she be older than you?

Well, I gotta go to bed.
Would ya keep grandma safe, O please,
So as she won't wander off and get lost?
She forgets her hat and coat,
and she could freeze.

I love her lots and
I wish she bremember I'm her little Andy
And bake some good cookies for me,
And even share my candy.

Tell my friend, Jesus, I was here and
Give Him a hug from grandma and me.
She used to know Him and I heard her say,
"Thank you, Jesus, for little Andy."

Good night, Mr. God. Are ya tired?
You work, so hard, all day.
I'll be back a'morrow, to visit,
Before I go out to play.........Andy

Thank you -

CICADAS interesting insect for sure

Cicadas have prominent eyes set wide apart, short antennae, and membranous front wings. They have an exceptionally loud song, produced in most species by the rapid buckling and unbuckling of drumlike tymbals. The earliest known fossil Cicadomorpha appeared in the Upper Permian period; extant species occur all around the world in temperate to tropical climates. They typically live in trees, feeding on watery sap from xylem tissue and laying their eggs in a slit in the bark. Most cicadas are cryptic. The vast majority of species are active during the day as adults, with some calling at dawn or dusk. Only a rare few species are known to be nocturnal.

One exclusively North American genus, Magicicada (the periodical cicadas), which spend most of their lives as underground nymphs, emerges in predictable intervals of 13 or 17 years, depending on the species and the location. The unusual duration and synchronization of their emergence may reduce the number of cicadas lost to predation, both by making them a less reliably available prey (so that any predator who evolved to depend on cicadas for sustenance might starve waiting for their emergence), and by emerging in such huge numbers that they will satiate any remaining predators before losing enough of their number to threaten their survival as a species.

The annual cicadas are species that emerge every year. Though these cicadas have life cycles that can vary from one to nine or more years as underground larvae, their emergence above ground as adults is not synchronized, so some members of each species appear every year.

Cicadas have been featured in literature since the time of Homer's Iliad, and as motifs in art from the Chinese Shang dynasty. They have also been used in myth and folklore as symbols of carefree living and immortality. The cicada is also mentioned in Hesiod's Shield (ll.393–394), its voice sings when millet first ripens. Cicadas are eaten by humans in various countries, including China, where the nymphs are served deep-fried in Shandong cuisine.
Also after coming out of the ground they shed their outer layer, kinda like a snake does. A few years ago they all came out of the ground at the same time and their little layers were attached to every tree and all over people's houses. My yard was full of holes. I think they ate the roots of my Rose of Sharon bush. The Rose of Sharon bush is almost impossible to kill. I lost 2 in the span of 5 years.
Hi hplady, what caught my attention is that these critters stay under ground for 13-17 years.
The sounds they make can be hard to take
We don't have them in Canada....................wave
We Follow a Scarred Captain.............
Jesus gave hope to the hopeless, comfort to the comfortless,
mercy to those whose hearts and lives were breaking all around
them.
He gave them the gift of abundant life and the secret of
happy living through the Beatitudes.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven".
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted".
"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."
"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for
they shall be satisfied".
Batting all alone

Faith - we shall see - is sometimes a collective and sometimes a very private matter.
When a nation unites to defend its peace and freedom against an invading enemy,
we see an illustration of collective faith. But when an institution delegates enormous
decision-making powers to the chief executive officer, the decisions will become
painfully private. The presidency of the United States has been described as the
loneliest office for that very reason. The buck stops at his desk. He is up to bat.
Alone! One man against the world.

Faith, we soon discover, is a very private matter. Our most important decisions
cannot be passed off to anyone else. Consider the basic decisions:

(1) What am I going to do? What career will I pursue? In a free society, you,
and you alone, must decide! Out in front of you are nine members of another
team plus a stand full of spectators watching to see how you will perform! No
state bureaucracy will select a profession for you! That's being in the batter's
box alone!

(2) Who will be my one essential friend? Whom shall I marry? Or shall I remain
single? No government agency, no academic advisory council can make that
decision for you. You are in the batter's box - alone! That calls for strong, private
faith!

(3) What religious choice will I make? I can choose to believe in nothing or I can
choose to believe in something. Atheism or theism.

It's your decision. You're up to bat. You can't avoid the moment. Sure, you can run
scared, throw the bat to someone else in the dugout - avoid the choice - call yourself
an agnostic. But then - face the consequences - you're out of the game!

Choose faith: take a swing at it! Become a believer.

After all - faith is the only positive option open to you. The other alternatives are
negative! And nothing positive ever follows negative decisions!
My Childhood.
Even though my mother had a Christian upbringing as a child, and my dad became a Catholic when he was still single, religion was not encouraged nor talked about in our home.

Mom told me that she had been forced to go to Sunday school and had to memorize scriptures.

All her brother’s and sister’s, eleven of them, would be severely punished by their father, if they had not memorized them correctly.

My dad became a Catholic before he was married, he was working in Limburg, in the South of Holland, where most people, including his family, were all Catholic’s.

I believe that dad felt he had to join and not because he wanted to. I personally never saw him going to church, not to any church for that matter.

So the Lord did not live in our home. My dad would tell us to find our own way.

We were always fighting and arguing as children.

My mother had put me in charge of the younger kids, as she did not like to get up early. I had to get the gang ready, make breakfast, and get them ready for school.

I would go to the bakery and asked for warm bread. The baker would tell me that he was not allowed to sell bread baked that morning, until 10 o’clock. I knew this very well.

Warm bread was not healthy for your stomach. I always got my way, as I would tell the baker, that if he didn’t sell it to me, I would go somewhere else.

We kids would “kill” that whole loaf of bread spreading on margarine so thick, that it left out teeth marks behind. The butter was melting on the warm bread. So very, very, goooood!
Hello Jenny wave
read much of this ere blog lastnight, and I'm glad I did....
very uplifting in many ways, very inspirational sprinkled with wisdom as well applause thumbs up

This aside and without looking for personal matters or details but by any chance do you know anything about Mr String and his where about's?
Hi Itchy, Mr. String has been missing now for some time, unfortunately, I am not able to email him.
Maybe you can do so?
Glad to know you are enjoying the blog. I do try to bring a variety ...............wave
Since we had no central heating, I had to get the coal stove going.
That did not always go smoothly, especially when it was raining, so I would get some petrol and throw it upon the kindling.
Trust me that will get it going! That we never had a fire is a miracle. Sometimes the room would be full of smoke, and mom would get out of bed, cursing and be mad at me.

Another time, the kids would come to her bedroom complaining; “Mom, Jenny says to do this, mom, Jenny says to do that” she would come out of bed and let me have it.

If she really got mad she would backhand me one. What I have always felt was unfair, she never asked me which corner I preferred too land in.

Dad often had two jobs, so he was not home a lot. We would all be waiting for him when he finally climbed the stairs, to tell him what mom had done and what Jenny had done. Poor man, that he never banged our heads together, is another miracle.

The two sisters that followed me, Greetje and Coby were close in age. The two of them would often gang up on me it was their way of getting back at me, for bossing them around. Their favourite was to wait until I dropped something, and then they would chime; “Bend and stretch”

At times I would be so frustrated that I would stand in front of them with my fist balled up and just scream!

When I was about ten years old I had cramps so bad that I crawled over the floor from the pain.

Dad send me to the doctor who told me it was nerves, to stay in bed for three days and send my mother to see him.

I went upstairs to my room, after about two days I was told to get out of bed, message send by my mother. The only one who came to see me was my dad.

When I got sick, which was very seldom, I had to go upstairs and miss out on all the gossip.
I often wanted to be sick for a bed was put into the living room and that looked good to me.
Neighbours would come over and the patient could listen in on some interesting grown-up talk.

Or my two aunts would stop by our home for coffee.
They lived outside the city and would come ones a week to go to the market in our town to do their weekly shopping.

My parents did not believe in letting you feel sorry for yourself. If you fell and got hurt they would say that before you turned into a boy the pain would be all over.

If you hurt your finger, dad would ask if it hurt when you touched it. “Oh yes daddy” Snick, snick! He would then tell you that in that case not to touch it.

If you fell and hurt your knee and you would tell dad he would point to his own knee and tell you that it was better that it was your knee and not his. “Why is that daddy?” “Well child than I would have the sore knee”

I believe that my mother loved me as much as she was capable of, she showed resentment to me at times, she told me this one day but not why. She said she felt bad about it and apologized to me.

I believe that I did get the answer one day as to why my mother felt the way she did about me.
I know Jenny, I've asked about him here and there....
assuming after all his years being here he'd of had at least one friend here to maybe of known him on a more personal level, but it seems not.

I'd like to think he's alright but to be gone for this length of time, I'm trying not to think the worst .. but its not looking good... what ever the cause of reason, I do miss not seeing him around sad flower

Back to your blog and because there are so many pages and comments to read....
every time I log in, I read a little at a time.
Keep up the good writes little Jenny bouquet

wave
On Sundays, dad would let mom sleep, a wise move for otherwise she would be cranky the rest of the day. We would get breakfast, get washed and dressed, tidy up the house, make coffee and now we were told to call mother. This way the day would get of to a good start.

We had no hot water in our house and no shower either we had to do our daily washing in a washbasin. Once a week in the tub we went.

I also went swimming a lot, from school we went twice a week, and in the summer I went swimming daily, sometimes twice a day.

I would get up at 5 o’clock in the morning, peddle my bike for half an hour, and then swim before going to school or work. I did this from the 15th of May until September in an outdoor unheated pool.

It would be very cold and I was swimming so much, I had permanent wrinkled skin. (Still have it lol)

I believe in keeping fit so I joined a swim club for I loved the competition and I joined a gym-club. Also a handball club.

I can’t understand today, why we were not allowed to heat some water on the coal stove, as it would have cost nothing. To harden us you think?”

One Sunday morning, dad asked me if I had washed myself yet. I answered him that I had not, and that I was not going to either. To my surprise dad did not get mad.

We never dared to have a big mouth, not even me. Instead he asked me why I had not done so. I told him that it was a waste of time, for that tomorrow I would be dirty again anyway.

Dad said that this was true. I congratulated myself and thought that was easy, I should have thought of that smart idea a lot sooner.

In our home on Sundays, we eat at one o’clock sharp. It is the only time of the week when we eat together as a family. Mother noticed it first that there was no place set for me. She asked dad, if I was not going to eat that day, dad told her that indeed I was not eating that day, because it would be a waste of time, as I would be hungry again tomorrow anyway.

That was the only and last time, I gave my dad a hard time about washing myself.

How he must have been secretly enjoying himself all that morning, using psychology. It worked, for I have never forgotten it.

We were not allowed to talk at the table and this brought on a lot of nervous tension. One of us, dad said that it quite often was me, me?

I would start to laugh on purpose and soon had the others going. Or someone would get a kick under the table. Dad was not amused and would send me, upstairs to my room.

Sometimes I could take my food with me, other times I was not so lucky. Just to let my dad know, that having been sent upstairs did not bother me in the least, I would start to sing loudly, the latest top hits, street songs, church songs, anything that I could think of. After a while I seemed to have forgotten why I was upstairs, and I would come, still singing, down the stairs.

Dad told me years later, that he did not have the heart to send me back upstairs again.

After I came home from work, I was in the habit to go upstairs to sing, my way off relaxing. I was not allowed to sing downstairs in the living room, as I was told that we had enough “nightingales” in the house already.
After about an hour, I would feel a lot better.

Appearances was very important to my mother. Perhaps because she had worked for so many rich people, did she have unrealistic ideas, at least for our family. We had a small house and there were two living rooms, one we lived in, the other one was for when we had an important guest.

The trouble was; we seldom had people over that qualified to be in the “fancy parlour.” Also that room looked out over the street while the back room looked out over a factory.

What others would think of us counted heavy, we were never allowed to be first in anything so we would not be criticized.

White shoes were allowed around Easter time if the weather was nice. We would ask mother if we were allowed to wear our white shoes, and she would ask if we had seen others with them yet. We would lie, and assure her that half the town was wearing them.

When it became too dark to read we would ask her permission to turn on the light. She would go to the window in the front room she would look down the street if others had the lights on yet. If not, we would be out of luck.
So we would all sing songs. Mother would teach us songs that could have 24 verses.

In the good old days if something like a murder happened, it was put into song as these high crimes so seldom happened. This way these stories stayed alive. Also many people could not afford a newspaper.

There is a funny but true story. A motorcycle guy riding his bike had put his leather jacket on backwards, so he would stay warmer this way, as the wind could not get through in the front.

This fellow had an accident and the people who came out to help him said: ”Oh my, his head is turned around, oh that poor man”

Still today you can hear people say; “Why are you not going to Meppel and get your head turned around?” Meppel is the name of the town where this happened.

On our side of the street lived the working class; on the other side it was middle class. This class distinction was pointed out to us often in often not so subtle ways. Some kids were not allowed to play with us.

We were the wild street kids. Yes, we were on the street a lot because our home was too small for us all. We would often eat our sandwiches outside while playing games. If my mom said that we were not allowed to eat outdoors, we would tell her that we would not be eating at all in that case. You could call it blackmail, it was really and it worked every time.

It I had been my mother, I would have let us be hungry for a few days, I am sure we would have soon given in.

bcjenny Blogs
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