Tomorrow Is NOT Promised!

My 19 year old cousin, Alan Oliva Jr., was out from a party on Sunday morning (5/30/10 at 1 am) in Chicago with a friend and while they were walking on the streets he and his friend were hit on the backs with bats by three gangsters. The friend got away but Alan didn't. He was stabbed twice in the back and was rushed to the ER but died six hours later. You can read more, here.

This is my first personal loss of someone that I knew and it's just incomprehensible. I mean it feels so unreal. It's hard when things like this happen but I'm finding I just need to trust God and that "all things work together for the good of those that love Him."

Hopefully when things like this happen that we read in the paper or watch on the news or personally experience, we'll be drawn closer to Him and learn to trust in Him more. We need to trust that when God says not to do things (like "thou shall not murder" ), we shouldn't do them. There are other commands in the Bible that to many people don't make sense or they just don't care or purposefully don't obey so they end up basically ruining their own lives if not others.


Alot of times, we think we have our whole lives in front of us (especially us teens) but really only God knows how much longer we have. Alan probably thought we was going to spend his memorial day weekend with his family and friends. I understand he wanted to be a cop. He probably felt he could take on the world. But God had other plans. Now through this, I'm praying many more of my family members and Alan's friends (and, yes, it's hard but even his murderer) will hear of the love and grace and saving power of Jesus Christ and be added to the family of God.

Tomorrow is NOT promised. Cherish the people in your life. Be kind and love your siblings. Honor your parents. Treat everyone with respect. Live everyday as if it were your last. Because really, you don't know if it is. Or someone else's.

Some events can really put things back into perspective.

Two of my friends just lost their 13 year old cousin (Sean Woods) this past weekend as well. After being missed for a couple hours at a party, they found he had been accidentally drowned.

So if you would please pray for my cousins (the Oliva's) and my friends, the Piekarski's, cousins (the Woods) to be comforted and experience the peace of God through these untimely deaths in both of our family's, we would really appreciate that.

******************************************************

These events remind me alot of Kris Allen's song-
"Live Like We're Dying".

The Doll

I received this story in an email and was really touched by it. . .So I thought you would enjoy reading it, too--

****************************************************

I was walking around in a Wal Mart store, when I saw a cashier

hand this little boy some money back.

The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old..

The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have

enough money to buy this doll..'



Then the little boy turned to the

old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

The old lady replied:'You know that you don't have enough money to

buy this doll, my dear.''

Then she asked him to stay there

for just 5 minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly..


The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand..


Finally, I walked toward him and

I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.


It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.

She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'


I replied to him that maybe Santa

Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly.


'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is

now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can

give it to my sister when she goes there.'


His eyes were so sad while saying

this.. 'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says

that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought

that she could take the doll with her to give it to my

sister.''


My heart nearly stopped..


The little boy looked up at me

and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I

need her to wait until I come back

from the mall.'


Then he showed me a very nice

photo of himself. He was laughing.. He then told me 'I

want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't

forget me.'


'I love my mommy and I wish

she didn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has

to go to be with my little sister.'


Then he looked again at the

doll with sad eyes, very quietly.


I quickly reached for my wallet

and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check again, just in

Case you do have enough money for the doll!''



OK' he said, 'I hope I do

have enough.' I added some of my money to his without

him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for

the doll and even some spare money..


The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'



Then he looked at me and added,

'I asked last night

before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough

money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give it to my

sister. He heard me!''



'I also wanted to have enough

money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't

dare to ask God for too much.. But He gave me enough to buy

the doll and a white rose.''



'My mommy loves white roses.'



A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket.



I finished my shopping in a

totally different state of mind from when I started.




I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.



Then I remembered a local news

paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a

truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.



The little girl died right away,


and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had

to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining

machine, because the young woman would not be able to

recover from the coma.




Was this the family of the little boy?





Two days after this encounter


with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young

woman had passed away.



I couldn't stop myself as I


bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home

where the body of the young woman was for people to see and

make last wishes before her burial.


She was there, in her coffin,


holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of

the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.


I left the place, teary-eyed,

feeling that my life had been changed for ever... The love


that the little boy had for his

mother and his sister is

still, to this day, hard to imagine.


And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.







Now you have 2 choices:

1) Send this message to others,

or

2) Ignore it as if it never

touched your heart.



The quote of the month is by Jay

Leno: "With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control,

mud slides, flooding, severe

thunderstorms tearing up the

country from one end to the other, and with the threat of

swine flu and terrorist attacks, 'Are we sure this is a

good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?'"


For those who prefer to think

that God is not

Watching over us delete this, for the others ...


Pass it on!



God Bless!!!




Dear God:


The person reading this is beautiful and strong.

Help them live their life to the fullest.

Please promote them and cause

them to excel above their expectations.

Help them shine in the darkest

places where it is impossible to love.

Protect them at all times, lift

them up when they need you the most, and let them know

when they walk with you, they will always be safe.

Just For A Hat. . .

There's this story of a man in Alabama who was walking down the street on a gusty day. He was in the middle of crossing the street when his "favorite" hat blew off him and he ran to get it. He didn't look where he was going and a big truck hit him and he died.

Instantly.

For what? A hat. He lost his entire life for a piece of material he could've easily replaced. Isn't that sad?

But how many times do we, for something small, lose something a whole lot bigger and more precious that we can't replace?

Here's one big example, someone tries to win an argument. Then they lose a friendship.

Or some sibling is too prideful. They lose the relationship with another sibling(s).

Some adult wants their way. Then there's divorce.

Remember, don't do it just for a hat. . .

it's definitely not worth it in the end!

The Son, who will take the son?

This is probably one of the best ways I have heard the gospel presented in an easy way so I wanted to share it with all of you! I first saw it on my friend Jesi's blog. Please feel free to send it to anybody you'd like!

********************************************************************************************************************************************

Take my Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art..

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas,

There was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands..

He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly... He often talked about you, and your love for art.' The young man held out this package. 'I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.'

The father

0AOpened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man.. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.. 'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift.'

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?'

There was silence..

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.'

But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?'

Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandts. Get on with the
Real bids!'

But still the auctioneer continued. 'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?'

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting...' Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.

'We have $10, who will bid $20?'

'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters.'

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.

They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!'

A man sitting on the second row shouted, 'Now let's get on with the collection!'

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. 'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'

'What about the paintings?'

'I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.

The man who took the son gets everything!'

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: 'The son, the son, who'll take the son?'

Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT'S LOVE

Do whatever you like, but remember that maybe 'one' of the people you might have taken the time to send this to, may be just the person who needs to hear this message. You have a choice to make.'


God Bless.

The Rich Family in Church

My mom told us about this story last week and I thought it was interesting to see how this family views themselves and how it effected them as individuals and as a family.

The Rich Family In Church
By Eddie Ogan

The Rich Family In Church • Original article • Original article in German (MS Word file) • Response • Responses to the response • Update on the author's life • How to help Eddie

I'll never forget Easter 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy was 12, and my older sister Darlene 16. We lived at home with our mother, and the four of us knew what it was to do without many things. My dad had died five years before, leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money.

By 1946 my older sisters were married and my brothers had left home. A month before Easter the pastor of our church announced that a special Easter offering would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give sacrificially.

When we got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy 50 pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save $20 of our grocery money for the offering. When we thought that if we kept our electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, we'd save money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house and yard cleaning jobs as possible, and both of us babysat for everyone we could. For 15 cents we could buy enough cotton loops to make three pot holders to sell for $1.

We made $20 on pot holders. That month was one of the best of our lives.

Every day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we'd sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the church would give them. We had about 80 people in church, so figured that whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to save for the sacrificial offering.

The day before Easter, Ocy and I walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give us three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all our change.

We ran all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. We had never had so much money before.

That night we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn't care that we wouldn't have new clothes for Easter; we had $70 for the sacrificial offering.

We could hardly wait to get to church! On Sunday morning, rain was pouring. We didn't own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home, but it didn't seem to matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet.

But we sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls having on their old dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt rich.

When the sacrificial offering was taken, we were sitting on the second row from the front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of us kids put in a $20.

As we walked home after church, we sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for us. She had bought a dozen eggs, and we had boiled Easter eggs with our fried potatoes! Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her hand. We asked what it was, but she didn't say a word. She opened the envelope and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10 and seventeen $1 bills.

Mom put the money back in the envelope. We didn't talk, just sat and stared at the floor. We had gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white trash. We kids had such a happy life that we felt sorry for anyone who didn't have our Mom and Dad for parents and a house full of brothers and sisters and other kids visiting constantly. We thought it was fun to share silverware and see whether we got the spoon or the fork that night.

We had two knifes that we passed around to whoever needed them. I knew we didn't have a lot of things that other people had, but I'd never thought we were poor.

That Easter day I found out we were. The minister had brought us the money for the poor family, so we must be poor. I didn't like being poor. I looked at my dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed—I didn't even want to go back to church. Everyone there probably already knew we were poor!

I thought about school. I was in the ninth grade and at the top of my class of over 100 students. I wondered if the kids at school knew that we were poor. I decided that I could quit school since I had finished the eighth grade. That was all the law required at that time. We sat in silence for a long time. Then it got dark, and we went to bed. All that week, we girls went to school and came home, and no one talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked us what we wanted to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? We didn't know. We'd never known we were poor. We didn't want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said we had to. Although it was a sunny day, we didn't talk on the way.

Mom started to sing, but no one joined in and she only sang one verse. At church we had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings out of sun dried bricks, but they needed money to buy roofs. He said $100 would put a roof on a church. The minister said, "Can't we all sacrifice to help these poor people?" We looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a week.

Mom reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene. Darlene gave it to me, and I handed it to Ocy. Ocy put it in the offering.

When the offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The missionary was excited. He hadn't expected such a large offering from our small church. He said, "You must have some rich people in this church."

Suddenly it struck us! We had given $87 of that "little over $100."

We were the rich family in the church! Hadn't the missionary said so? From that day on I've never been poor again. I've always remembered how rich I am because I have Jesus!

~