My moms name is Geneva: ) I love her for her guidance and all that she has taught me. I see her so much in my way with my children : ) This page is dedicated to mom, and all the moms of this world : )

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"Were You Colder Than This?" By Ruth Seamands It was Christmas Eve in Korea. An expectant mother walked through the snow to the home of a missionary friend where she knew she could find help. A short way down the road from the mission house was a deep gully spanned by a bridge. As the young woman stumbled forward, birth pains overcame her. She realized she could go no farther. She crawled under the bridge. There alone between the trestles she gave birth to a baby boy. She had nothing with her except the heavy padded clothes she was wearing. One by one she removed the pieces of her clothing and wrapped them around her tiny son - around and around, like a cumbersome cocoon. Then, finding a discarded piece of burlap, she pulled it over herself, and lay exhausted beside her baby. The next morning, a missionary drove across the bridge in her Jeep to take a Christmas basket to a Korean family. On the way back, as she neared the bridge, the Jeep sputtered and died, out of gas. Getting out of the Jeep she started to walk across the bridge, and heard a faint cry beneath her. She crawled under the bridge to investigate. There she found the tiny baby, warm but hungry, and the young mother frozen to death. The missionary took the baby home and cared for him. As the boy grew, he often asked his adopted mother to tell him the story of how she had found him. On Christmas Day, his 12th birthday, he asked the missionary to take him to his mothers grave. Once there he asked her to wait a distance away while he went to pray. The boy stood beside the grave with bowed head, weeping. Then he began to disrobe. As the astonished missionary watched, the boy took off his warm clothing, piece by piece, and laid it on his mother's grave. Surely he won't take off all his clothing, the missionary thought. He will freeze! But the boy stripped himself of everything, putting all his warm clothing on the grave. He knelt naked and shivering in the snow. As the missionary went to him to help him dress again, she heard him cry out to the mother he never knew: "Were you colder than this for me, my mother?" And he wept bitterly. ----- When Christ came, He stripped himself of every royal garment and entered into our world of hatred and cold indifference. Why did He do it? Because He saw centuries of broken lives needing a Savior. And then He died of a broken heart. What broke it? The sin of human hearts. The long history of men making slaves of other men. Centuries of cruelty. Starvation and suffering. The worship of false gods in temples made with hands. War, bloodshed, crime, and greed - those things broke the heart of Christ. But so did we. Our coldness broke His heart, and now it freezes Him out. We complacent Americans (and people of all nations) who are saved, satisfied, and sitting. We who pray, "Give us compassion for a lost world," and then "sacrifice" a dollar for missions - we with our elegant homes and brimming garbage cans - we who have the money, knowledge, and manpower to take the gospel to every creature, and yet we don't. We who say we love the lost, and neglect to tell a lost neighbor about a loving Savior. Jesus love lies frozen between trestled lips that ought to be warm to speak for Him. Lord, we take off our garments of pride and self-righteousness, glittering but transparently filthy rags that they are, and lay them at Your feet. In our naked need we cry, "Were You colder than this because of us, Lord?" And we weep, because we know You were. Does Heaven have a phone number? Mommy went to Heaven, but I need her here today, My tummy hurts and I fell down, I need her right away, Operator can you tell me how to find her in this book? Is heaven in the yellow part, I don't know where to look. I think my daddy needs her too, at night I hear him cry. I hear him call her name sometimes, but I really do not know why. Maybe if I call her, she will hurry home to me. Is Heaven very far away, is it across the sea? She has been gone a long, long time she needs to come home now! I really need to reach her, but I simply do not know how. Help me find the number please, is it listed under "Heaven"? I cannot read these big words, I am only seven. I am sorry operator, I did not mean to make you cry, Is your tummy hurting too, or is there something in your eye? If I call my church maybe they will know. Mommy said when we need help thats where we should go. I found the number to my church tacked up on the wall. Thank you operator, I will give them a call. The littlest Firefighter In Phoenix, Arizona, a 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her sons dreams to come true. She took her sons hand and asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?" Mommy, "I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." Mom smiled back and said, "Lets see if we can make your wish come true." Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her sons final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine. Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If youll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, well make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if youll give us his sizes, well get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat-not a toy one-with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. Theyre all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast." Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedics van, and even the fire chiefs car. He was also videotaped for the local news program. Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible. One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition. The chief replied, "We can do better than that. Well be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?" About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billys third floor open window. 16 firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billys room. With his mothers permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him. With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, "Chief, am I really a fireman now?" "Billy, you are, and the Head Chief, Jesus, is holding your hand," the chief said. With those words, Billy smiled and said, "I know, Hes been holding my hand all day, and the angels have been singing." He closed his eyes one last time. "Learn to Listen" Midnight phone calls stir a mothers heart. We all know what its like to get that phone call in the middle of the night. This night was no different. Jerking up to the ringing summons, I focused on the red, illuminated numbers of my clock. Midnight. Panicky thoughts filled my sleep-dazed mind as I grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" My heart pounded, I gripped the phone tighter and eyed my husband, who was now turning to face my side of the bed. "Mama?" The voice answered. I could hardly hear the whisper over the static. But my thoughts immediately went to my daughter. When the desperate sound of a young crying voice became clear on the line, I grabbed for my husband and squeezed his wrist. "Mama, I know its late. But dont . . . dont say anything until I finish. And before you ask, yes Ive been drinking. I nearly ran off the road a few miles back and . .. .." I drew in a sharp, shallow breath, released my husband and pressed my hand against my forehead. Sleep still fogged my mind, and I attempted to fight back the panic. Something wasnt right. "I got so scared. All I could think of was how it would hurt you if a policeman came to your door and said Id been killed. I want . . . to come home. I know running away was wrong. I know youve been worried sick. I should have called you days ago but I was afraid . . . afraid . . ." Staying on the line, sobs of deep-felt emotion flowed from the receiver and poured into my heart. Immediately I pictured my daughters face in my mind, and my fogged senses seemed to clear, "I think ---" "No! Please let me finish! Please!" she pleaded, not so much in anger, but in desperation. I paused and tried to think what to say. Before I could go on, she continued. "Im pregnant, Mama. I know I shouldnt be drinking now, especially now, but Im scared, Mama. So scared!" The voice broke again, and I bit into my lip, feeling my own eyes fill with moisture. I looked up at my husband, who sat silently mouthing, "Who is it?" I shook my head and when I didnt answer, he jumped up and left the room, returning seconds later with a portable phone held to his ear. She must have hear the click in the line because she asked, "Are you still there? Please dont hang up on me! I need you. I feel so alone." I clutched the phone and stared at my husband, seeking guidance. "Im here, I wouldnt hang up," I said. "I should have told you, Mama. I know I should have told you. But, when we talk, you just keep telling me what I should do. You read all those pamphlets on how to talk about sex and all, but all you do is talk. You dont listen to me. You never let me tell you how I feel. It is as if my feelings arent important. Because youre my mother you think you have all the answers. But sometimes I dont need answers. I just want someone to listen." I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the how-to-talk-to-your-kids pamphlets scattered on my night stand. "Im listening," I whispered. "You know, back there on the road after I got the car under control, I started thinking about the baby and taking care of it. Then I saw this phone booth and it was as if I could hear you preaching to me about how people shouldnt drink and drive. So I called a taxi. I want to come home." "Thats good honey," I said, relief filling my chest. My husband came closer, sat down beside me and laced his fingers through mine. "But you know, I think I can drive now." "No!" I snapped. My muscles stiffened and I tightened the clasp on my husbands hand. "Please, wait for the taxi. Dont hang up on me until the taxi gets there." "I just want to come home, Mama." "I know. But do this for your Mama. Wait for the taxi, please." Learning to listen: I listened to the silence . . . fearing. When I didnt hear her answer, I bit into my lip and closed my eyes. Somehow I had to stop her from driving. "Theres the taxi, now." Only when I heard someone in the background asking about a Yellow Cab did I feel my tension easing. "Im coming home, Mama." There was a click, and the phone went silent. Moving from the bed, tears forming in my eyes, I walked out into the hall and went to stand in my sixteen-year-old daughters room. My husband came from behind, wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We have to learn to listen," I said to him. He studied me for a second, then asked, "Do you think she will ever know she dialed the wrong number?" I looked at our sleeping daughter, then back at him. "Maybe it wasnt such a wrong number." "Mom, Dad, what are you doing?" The muffled voice came from under the covers. I walked over to my daughter, who now sat up staring into the darkness. "We're practicing," I answered. "Practicing what?" she mumbled and laid back on the mattress, but her eyes already closed in slumber. "Listening," I whispered and brushed a hand over her cheek. "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Matthew 19:14 (NIV) The Wreck On Highway 109 by Ruth Gillis A drunk man in an Oldsmobile they said had run the light that caused the six-car pileup on 109 that night. When broken bodies lay about and blood was everywhere, the sirens screamed out elegies, for death was in the air. A mother, trapped inside her car, was heard above the noise; her plaintive plea near split the air: "Oh, God, please spare my boys!" She fought to loose her pinioned hands; she struggled to get free, but mangled metal held her fast in grim captivity. Her frightened eyes then focused on where the back seat once had been, but all she saw was broken glass and two childrens seats crushed in. Her twins were nowhere to be seen; she did not hear them cry, and then she prayed theyd been thrown free, "Oh, God, dont let them die!" Then firemen came and cut her loose, but when they searched the back, they found therein no little boys, but the seat belts were intact. They thought the woman had gone mad and was traveling alone, but when they turned to question her, they discovered she was gone. Policemen saw her running wild and screaming above the noise in beseeching supplication, "Please help me find my boys! Theyre four years old and wear blue shirts; their jeans are blue to match." One cop spoke up, "Theyre in my car, and they dont have a scratch. They said their daddy put them there and gave them each a cone, then told them both to wait for Mom to come and take them home. Ive searched the area high and low, but I cant find their dad. He must have fled the scene, I guess, and that is very bad." The mother hugged the twins and said, while wiping at a tear, "He could not flee the scene, you see, for hes been dead a year." The cop just looked confused and asked, "Now, how can that be true?" The boys said, "Mommy, Daddy came and left a kiss for you. He told us not to worry and that you would be all right, and then he put us in this car with the pretty, flashing light. We wanted him to stay with us, because we miss him so, but Mommy, he just hugged us tight and said he had to go. He said someday wed understand and told us not to fuss, and he said to tell you, Mommy, hes watching over us." The mother knew without a doubt that what they spoke was true, for she recalled their dads last words, "I will watch over you." The firemens notes could not explain the twisted, mangled car, and how the three of them escaped without a single scar. But on the cops report was scribed, in print so very fine, An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109. Copyright © 1999 Ruth Gillis All Rights Reserved by the Author Used With Written Permission Click here to go to Ruth's Site The Heart of A Woman By the time the Lord made woman, He was into his Sixth day of working overtime. An Angel appeared and said, "Why are you spending so much time on this one?" And the Lord answered and said, "Have you seen the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have 200 movable parts, all replaceable, run on black coffee and leftovers, have a lap that can hold two children at one time and that disappears when she stands up, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart, and have six pairs of hands." The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No Way!" said the Angel. The Lord replied, "Oh, its not the hands that are the problem. Its the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have! And thats just on the standard model!" The Angel asked about the three pairs of eyes. The Lord nodded. "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word." The Angel tried to stop the Lord. "This is too much work for one day, wait until tomorrow to finish." "But I cant!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sick AND can feed a family on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower." The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord." "She is soft," The Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish." "Will she be able to think?" asked the Angel. The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason and negotiate." The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the womans cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak with this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one." "Thats not a leak," The Lord objected, "thats a tear!" "Whats the tear for?" the Angel asked. The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her pain, her disappointment, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride." The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything, for women are truly amazing." Women have strengths that amaze men. They carry children, they carry hardships, they carry burdens but they hold happiness, love and joy. They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry. They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous. They fight for what they believe in. They stand up for injustice. They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution. They go without new shoes so their children can have them. They go to the doctor with a frightened friend. They love unconditionally. They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards. Their hearts break when a friend dies. They have sorrow at the loss of a family member, yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left. They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart. Women come in all sizes, in all colors and shapes. They will drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you. The heart of a woman is what makes the world spin! Women do more than give birth. They bring joy and hope. They give compassion and ideals. Women have a lot to say and a lot to give.
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