"So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full."

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 eulogies,
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 loosen her pinned 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 children's seats crushed in.

Her twins were nowhere to be seen;
She did not hear them cry,
And then she prayed they'd been thrown free,
Oh, God, don't 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!

They're four years old and wear blue shirts;
Their jeans are blue to match."
One cop spoke up, "They're in my car,
And they don't 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.

I've searched the area high and low,
But I can't 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 he's 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 we'd understand
And told us not to fuss,
And he said to tell you, Mommy,
He's watching over us."

The mother knew without a doubt
That what they spoke was true,
For she recalled their dad's last words,
"I will watch over you."

The firemen's notes could not explain
The twisted, mangled car,
And how the three of them escaped
Without a single scar.

But on the cop's report was scribed,
In print so very fine,
An angel walked the beat tonight
On Highway 109.

There was a couple who was about to get married.
Before the wedding, they had a tragic accident and both died.

As they were standing at the gates of heaven talking to
St. Peter they explained their plight and asked could they get
married in heaven.

St. Peter said, "Wait here," and left.

He was gone for several months then finally returned.

The couple said, "We've been thinking as we were waiting here,
eternity is a long time to be married. Just in case things
don't work out, is it possible that we can get a divorce?"

St. Peter looked them sternly in the eye then said,

"Listen! It took me three months to find a preacher up here,
do you know how long it would take me to find a lawyer?"

A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was
new to our town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with
this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our
family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to
welcome me into the world a few months later.

As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family. Mom
taught me to love the Word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it,
but the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most
fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were
daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spellbound
for hours each evening.

He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill
and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always
encouraging us to see the movies, and he even made arrangements
to introduce us to several movie stars.

The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn't seem to mind,
but sometimes Mom would quietly get up while the rest of us
were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places, go to
her room, read her Bible and pray. I wonder now if she ever
prayed that the stranger would leave.

You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral
convictions, but this stranger never felt an obligation to
honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our
house-not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime
visitor, however, used occasional four-letter words that burned
my ears and made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the stranger was
never confronted.

My Dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home,
not even for cooking, but the stranger felt like we needed
exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered
us beer and other alcoholic beverages often. He made cigarettes
look tasty, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked
freely (much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes
blatant, sometimes suggestive and generally embarrassing. I
know now that my early concepts of the man/woman relationship
were influenced by the stranger.

As I look back, I believe it was because of the grace of God
that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he
opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked and
never asked to leave.

More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in
with the young family on Morningside Drive. But if I were to
walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting
over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and
watch him draw his pictures.

His name?

We always just called him TV.

~Author Unknown~

Far beyond her five years, Chloe, one of my nine adorable
grandchildren, speaks truth as her first language.

I am constantly struggling to keep my language and spirit clean
when I talk around other people. It is not uncommon, much to my
dismay, that when frustrated, I say words like, "Darn-it,"
"Dad Gum-it," and on this day, "Fiddle-Sticks."

Chloe tugged on my shirt sleeve and said, "Mammy, my Daddy says
it is not good to say those words like you just said.
Me, thinking I did a service by not saying the exletives,
asked her, "Why is that?"

She clasped her hands together and quietly remarked,
"It's because words like that are only practice for the bad ones
you didn't say, and someday, you will say them instead."

~A MountainWings Original by Deborah Nelson-Dousay, Houston, TX~