Hi Lord, it’s me, things are getting bad here, gas prices are too high, no jobs, food and heating cost too high. I know some have taken you out of our schools, government & even Christmas. But Lord I'm asking you to come back and re-bless America, we really need you.
Thanks Lord, I love you!
The Lord says when 2 or more are gathered in My Name, there I will be also!!!
Let's see how far this goes. Please pass this on..
Please God..please Bless America again..
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Now, John Robert, how many wives have you had?
Subject: Fwd: The awesome power of a wife's love
A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he suddenly smelled the
aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookie wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the
wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort
forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven.
There, spread out on newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of
his favorite chocolate chip cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife,
seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table. The
aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a cookie at the edge of the
table, when he was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
"Stay out of those," she said.
"They're for the funeral.
A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he suddenly smelled the
aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookie wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the
wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort
forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven.
There, spread out on newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of
his favorite chocolate chip cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife,
seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table. The
aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a cookie at the edge of the
table, when he was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
"Stay out of those," she said.
"They're for the funeral.
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