YOUR HUT IS ON FIRE

Do you ever feel like your life is in shambles? Me too.

Tonight on the PBS station Dr. Daniel Amen--book: Magnificent Mind at Any Age--is talking about depression, anxiety disorders, ADD, ADHD, changing your perception of a problem--just about everything that might be stressful in your life (except a non-functioning computer--I hope Santa reads this blog). I think I need to read his book--he is giving lots of help to overcome the negative and encourage the positive. He says these things will be life changing. he has a weekly email. Click here to subscribe.

Also, today I got the following email in the mail. You probably have seen it yourself. It comes around every so often. (Thank you, Terri). See what you think. I'm picturing my computer on fire along with other things on fire, too. My fatness, perhaps. Man, that fire should burn for years!

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IS YOUR HUT ON FIRE?

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.

Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions.

One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief, grief, and anger. He cried out, 'God! How could you do this to me?'

Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching the island! It had come to rescue him! 'How did you know I was here?' asked the weary man of his rescuers. 'We saw your smoke signal,' they replied.

The Moral of This Story:

It's easy to get discouraged when things are going badly, but we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of our pain and suffering... Remember that the next time your little hut seems to be burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons the Grace of God.

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If you hut is on fire I hope the ship is just beyond the horizon and chugging toward your island at this very moment.

PS Here's just one of his suggestions: Write down five things you are grateful for. Meditate about them during the day--every day. This will increase your level of happiness in just three weeks. What have you got to loose? Make your list today. I'm going to do it, too.

I'M THEIR HERO 'CAUSE I'M THE FINDER OF THE KEYS

A couple of weeks ago Lord Bumhampton and his charming wife, Nurse Giggleswitch were down for the week-end. We had a glorious time--photos of the fire pit to come sometime soon. We went to dinner at Heaps and then, after the fire had burned to coals, AND the neighbor's sprinklers came on and reached twenty feet and sprinkled us, right on the lawn swings--remind me not to sleep out there anytime soon--we came in and they watched TV and I computer'd. Phil had already gone to bed.

Lord B. started to look for his keys. Nowhere. They were nowhere. He needed to look outside but the flashlight was dim. I found new batteries for him, I'm helpful like that. He looked through the car windows--the car was locked. The keys were not inside. He looked on the lawn. Nothing. He looked everywhere and finally said, "Mom, I may need to borrow one of your cars and drive home--2 1/2 hours away--and get the extra keys and drive back."

"That would be fine," I said and since he wouldn't leave until morning I didn't worry about it much. Lord B. and Nurse G. continued to look.

I finally took pity on them and went upstairs to help. "I've come to find your keys," I said.

He didn't say it out loud but I could read his eyes. "Fat chance!" Since the word "fat" is a forbidden word, kind of like the Forbidden Palace in China--that's how obnoxious that "fat" word is--I didn't look at him anymore.

"Have you looked in Nurse Giggleswitches' purse?" I said, looking at the ceiling.

"Yes, many times."

"Have you looked in my purse?"

"Why would we do that?"

I walked over to my purse and pulled out his keys.

"Are these yours?" I asked.

I know he wanted to kill me or at least shake me until all the "forbidden word" body parts jiggled mightily, but he restrained because he's a good boy. I raised him that way.

"Why," he said through clenched teeth, "would MY keys be in YOUR purse?"

"Well, because," I said, widening my eyes in a most innocent way, "I guess I saw them on the clerk and thought, what if Phil locks the keys in the car? I better take mine, just in case. So I picked up your keys, thinking they were mine, but, ha ha, it's funny isn't it, they were really yours."

"Mom," he said, "my keys have a total of two keys on them. What do your keys look like?"

I fished them out of my purse. "They look exactly the same, don't they? Well, except for the extra three keys and the automatic car door opener and the Eiffel Tower. I saved the day for you, didn't I? Now you don't have to drive all the way home and all the way back. Aren't you lucky?" I paused so he could contemplate how lucky he was. "And you're welcome," I said.

He didn't even smile. That boy need to cultivate his sense of humor.

And I don't think he said "thank you," either.