Category: Wan’s Wisdom

The Importance of walking

Walking can add minutes to your life.
This enables you at 85 years old
to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing
home at $4,000 per month.

My grandpa started walking
five miles a day when he was 60.
Now he’s 97 years old
and we have no idea where the hell he is.

I like long walks,
especially when they are taken
by people who annoy me.

The only reason I would take up walking
is so that I could hear heavy breathing again.

I have to walk early in the morning,
before my brain figures out what I’m doing…

I joined a health club last year,
spent about 250 bucks.
Haven’t lost a pound.
Apparently you have to go there!

Every time I hear the dirty word ‘exercise’,
I wash my mouth out with chocolate.

I do have flabby thighs,
but fortunately my stomach covers them.

The advantage of exercising every day
is so when you die, they’ll say,
‘Well, he looks good doesn’t he.’

If you are going to try cross-country skiing,
start with a small country.

I know I got a lot of exercise
the last few years,……
just getting over the hill.

We all get heavier as we get older,
because there’s a lot more information in our heads.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

AND

Every time I start thinking too much
about how I look,
I just find a pub with a Happy Hour
and by the time I leave,
I look just fine.

You could run this over to your friends
But just e-mail it to them!
It will save you the walk!

10 years ago the USA had Steve Jobs, Bob Hope and Johnny Cash ….
Now they have no Jobs, no Hope and no Cash!

Remember the reason for the season!

Grab a Kleenex and enjoy, hope and faith are successful ingredients in life to achieve health and love in the form of a miracle.

SANTA AND SARAH a must read A very touching message !!!

SANTA AND SARAH
Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at the McAllister Mall in Saint John . The child climbed up on hislap, holding a picture of alittle girl.
Who is this?” asked Santa, smiling. “Your friend?
“Yes, Santa,’ he replied. “My sister, Sarah, who is very sick,” he said sadly.
Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!” the child exclaimed. “She misses you,”he added softly.
Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy’s face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas.
When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
“What is it?” Santa asked warmly.
“Well, I know it’s really too much to ask you, Santa, but..” the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa’s elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors.
“The girl in the photograph…my granddaughter well, you see … she has leukemia and isn’t expected to make it even through the holidays,” she said through tear-filled eyes. “Is there any way, Santa, any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That’s all she’s asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa.”
Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do. “What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying,” he thought with a sinking heart, “This is the least I can do.”
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to the Hospital.
“Why?” Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah’s grandmother earlier that day.
“C’ mon …..I’ll take you there.” Rick said softly. Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa.
They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said, he would wait out in the hall.
Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah in the bed.
The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl’s brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah’s mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah’s thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah’s aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with a weary sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah.
Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, “Ho, Ho, Ho!”
“Santa!” shrieked little Sarah, weakly as she tried to escape her bed to run to him IV tubes intact.
Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug.
A child the tender age of his own son — 9 years old — gazed upat him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But, all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of, huge blue eyes. His heart melted, and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah’s face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women inthe room.
As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa’s shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering “Thank you” as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she’d been a very good girl that year.
As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl’s mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah’s bed, holding hands. Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.
“Oh, yes, Santa… I do!” she exclaimed.
“Well, I’m going to ask angels watch over you.” he said. Laying one hand on the child’s head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that, God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing, softly, “Silent Night, Holy Night….all is calm, all is bright.” The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tearsof hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all.
When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah’s frail, small hands in his own. “Now, Sarah,” he said authoritatively, “you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at McAllister Mall this time next year!”
He knew it was risky proclaiming that to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he “had” to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could — not dolls or games or toys — but the gift of HOPE.
“Yes, Santa!” Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
Out in the hall, the minute Santa’seyes met Rick’s, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed.
Sarah’s mother and grandmotherslipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa’s side to thank him.
“My only child is the same age as Sarah,” he explained quietly. “This is the least I could do.” They nodded with understanding andhugged him.
One year later, Santa was again back onthe set in Saint John for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and thenone day a child came up to sit on his lap.
“Hi, Santa! Remember me?!”
“Of course, I do,” Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a “good” Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the “only” child in the world at that moment.
“You came to see me in the hospital last year!”
Santa’s jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, andhe grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. “Sarah!” he exclaimed. Hescarcely recognized her, for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy — much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah’s mother and grandmother in thesidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus.
He had witnessed –and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about — this miracle of hope. Thisprecious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humblywhispered, “Thank you, Father. ‘Tis a very, Merry Christmas!
If you believe in miracles youwill pass this on…I did!

Night Before Christmas in Aussie land

‘Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn’t a sound.

Not a possum was stirring; no-one was around.
We’d left on the table some tucker and beer,

Hoping that Santa Claus soon would be here;

We children were snuggled up safe in our beds,

While dreams of pavlova danced ’round in our heads;
And Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,

Had just settled down to watch TV sports.

When outside the house a mad ruckus arose;

Loud squeaking and banging woke us from our doze.

We ran to the screen door, peeked cautiously out,

Snuck onto the deck, then let out a shout.

Guess what had woken us up from our snooze,

But a rusty old Ute pulled by eight mighty kangaroos.

The cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,

And we both knew at once who this plump bloke must be.

Now, I’m telling the truth it’s all dinki-di,

Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull at the reins,

And encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.

‘Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty! Now, Shazza and Shane!

On Kipper! On, Skipper! On, Bazza and Wayne!

Park up on that water tank. Grab a quick drink,

I’ll scoot down the gum tree. Be back in a wink!’

So up to the tank those eight kangaroos flew,

With the Ute full of toys, and Santa Claus too.

He slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,

Then in through the window he sprang with a bound.

He had bright sunburned cheeks and a milky white beard.

A jolly old joker was how he appeared.

He wore red stubby shorts and old thongs on his feet,

And a hat of deep crimson as shade from the heat.

His eyes – bright as opals – Oh! How they twinkled!

And, like a goanna, his skin was quite wrinkled!

His shirt was stretched over a round bulging belly

Which shook when he moved, like a plate full of jelly.

A fat stack of prezzies he flung from his back,

And he looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.

He spoke not a word, but bent down on one knee,

To position our goodies beneath the Yule tree.

Surfboard and footy-ball shapes for us two.

And for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.

A mysterious package he left for our Mum,

Then he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;

He strolled out on deck and his ‘roos came on cue;

Flung his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.

He bellowed out loud as they swooped past the gates-

MERRY CHRISTMAS to all, and goodonya, MATES!’

My husband and I had been happily married (most of the time)
for five years but hadn’t been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious praying and promised God that if
he would give us a child,I would be a perfect mother,love it with all
my heart and raise it with His word as my guide.

God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son.
The next year God blessed us with another son. The following
year, He blessed us with yet another son.

The year after that we were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we’d been blessed right into poverty. We
now had four children, and the oldest was only four years old.

I learned never to ask God for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me, “If you pray for rain, make sure
you carry an umbrella.”

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs..

I was off to a good start. God had entrusted me with four children
and
I didn’t want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed
two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two
hours to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up
in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather
than the mess..

In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand diapers, never
eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn’t keep my promise to be a perfect mother -I
didn’t even come close…
I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my
daughter we were going
to church to worship God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap
along to
“wash up” Jesus, too.

Something was lost in the translation when I explained that
God gave us everlasting life, and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his “last wife.”

My proudest moment came during the children’s
Christmas pageant. My daughter was playing Mary, two of my
sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man. This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, “we found
the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes.”

But he was nervous and said, “The baby was wrapped in wrinkled
clothes.”

My four-year-old “Mary” said, “that’s not ‘wrinkled clothes,’
silly, that’s dirty, rotten clothes.”

A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and
was stopped by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing.

I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the
doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying, “Mama-mama.”

Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger and announced, “We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts of gold, common sense and fur.”

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got
a standing ovation.

“I’ve never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one,”
laughed the pastor, wiping tears from his eyes

“For the rest of my life, I’ll never hear the Christmas story
without
thinking of Gold, Common sense and fur.”

“My children are my pride and my joy and my greatest
blessing,” I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin.

Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.
Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher .
Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.
Had no army, yet kings feared Him.
He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.
He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.
He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.

Feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us.

If you believe in God and in Jesus Christ His Son,
Send this to all on your buddy list.
GOD BLESS YOU ALL!