meets each Monday night at St. Paul's Methodist Church,
824 South Oak Street in Harrison.
Weigh-in begins at 4:30; the meeting at 5:15pm.
Tops is a non-profit organization open to men, women, and teens;
Phone 870-429-5185
Friday, February 24, 2012
TOPS AR55
meets each Monday night at St. Paul's Methodist Church,
824 South Oak Street in Harrison.
Weigh-in begins at 4:30; the meeting at 5:15pm.
Tops is a non-profit organization open to men, women, and teens;
Phone 870-429-5185
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
24 Things To Always Remember
Here are 24 things to always remember...and one thing to never forget.
Your presence is a present to the world.
You're unique and one of a kind.
Your life can be what you want it to be.
Take the days just one at a time.
Count your blessings, not your troubles.
You'll make it through whatever comes along.
Within you are so many answers.
Understand, have courage, be strong.
Don't put limits on yourself.
So many dreams are waiting to be realized.
Decisions are too important to leave to chance.
Reach for your peak, your goal, and your prize.
Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.
The longer one carries a problem, the heavier it gets.
Don't take things too seriously.
Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.
Remember that a little love goes a long way.
Remember that a lot . . . goes forever.
Remember that friendship is a wise investment.
Life's treasures are people . . . together.
Realize that it's never too late.
Do ordinary things in an extraordinary way.
Have health and hope and happiness.
Take the time to wish upon a star.
And don't ever forget . . .
For even a day . . .
How very special you are.
- God Vine
Your presence is a present to the world.
You're unique and one of a kind.
Your life can be what you want it to be.
Take the days just one at a time.
Count your blessings, not your troubles.
You'll make it through whatever comes along.
Within you are so many answers.
Understand, have courage, be strong.
Don't put limits on yourself.
So many dreams are waiting to be realized.
Decisions are too important to leave to chance.
Reach for your peak, your goal, and your prize.
Nothing wastes more energy than worrying.
The longer one carries a problem, the heavier it gets.
Don't take things too seriously.
Live a life of serenity, not a life of regrets.
Remember that a little love goes a long way.
Remember that a lot . . . goes forever.
Remember that friendship is a wise investment.
Life's treasures are people . . . together.
Realize that it's never too late.
Do ordinary things in an extraordinary way.
Have health and hope and happiness.
Take the time to wish upon a star.
And don't ever forget . . .
For even a day . . .
How very special you are.
- God Vine
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Amazing True Story
AFTER A FEW OF THE USUAL SUNDAY EVENING HYMNS,
THE CHURCH'S PASTOR SLOWLY STOOD UP,
WALKED OVER TO THE PULPIT AND,
BEFORE HE GAVE HIS SERMON FOR THE EVENING,
HE BRIEFLY INTRODUCED A GUEST MINISTER
WHO WAS IN THE SERVICE THAT EVENING.
IN THE INTRODUCTION, THE PASTOR TOLD THE
CONGREGATION THAT THE GUEST MINISTER WAS
ONE OF HIS DEAREST CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND
THAT HE WANTED HIM TO HAVE A FEW MOMENTS
TO GREET THE CHURCH AND SHARE WHATEVER
HE FELT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE FOR THE SERVICE.
WITH THAT, AN ELDERLY MAN STEPPED UP TO THE
PULPIT AND BEGAN TO SPEAK.
"A FATHER, HIS SON, AND A FRIEND OF HIS SON WERE
SAILING OFF THE PACIFIC COAST ," HE BEGAN.
"WHEN A FAST APPROACHING STORM BLOCKED ANY
ATTEMPT TO GET BACK TO THE SHORE.
THE WAVES WERE SO HIGH, THAT EVEN THOUGH THE
FATHER WAS AN EXPERIENCED SAILOR, HE COULD NOT
KEEP THE BOAT UPRIGHT AND THE THREE WERE SWEPT
INTO THE OCEAN AS THE BOAT CAPSIZED."
THE OLD MAN HESITATED FOR A MOMENT,
MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH TWO TEENAGERS WHO WERE,
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE SERVICE BEGAN,
LOOKING SOMEWHAT INTERESTED IN HIS STORY.
THE AGED MINISTER CONTINUED WITH HIS STORY,
"GRABBING A RESCUE LINE, THE FATHER HAD TO MAKE THE
MOST EXCRUCIATING DECISION OF HIS LIFE: TO WHICH BOY
WOULD HE THROW THE OTHER END OF THE LIFE LINE.
HE ONLY HAD SECONDS TO MAKE THE DECISION.
THE FATHER KNEW THAT HIS SON WAS A CHRISTIAN AND
HE, ALSO, KNEW THAT HIS SON'S FRIEND WAS NOT.
THE AGONY OF HIS DECISION COULD NOT BE MATCHED BY
THE TORRENT OF WAVES.
AS THE FATHER YELLED OUT, 'I LOVE YOU, SON!'
HE THREW OUT THE LIFE LINE TO HIS SON'S FRIEND.
BY THE TIME THE FATHER HAD PULLED THE FRIEND BACK
TO THE CAPSIZED BOAT, HIS SON HAD DISAPPEARED BENEATH
THE RAGING SWELLS INTO THE BLACK OF NIGHT.
HIS BODY WAS NEVER RECOVERED.
BY THIS TIME, THE TWO TEENAGERS WERE SITTING UP
STRAIGHT IN THE PEW, ANXIOUSLY WAITING FOR THE NEXT
WORDS TO COME OUT OF THE OLD MINISTER'S MOUTH.
"THE FATHER," HE CONTINUED, "KNEW HIS SON WOULD
STEP INTO ETERNITY WITH JESUS AND HE COULD NOT
BEAR THE THOUGHT OF HIS SON'S FRIEND STEPPING INTO
AN ETERNITY WITHOUT JESUS.. THEREFORE, HE SACRIFICED
HIS SON TO SAVE THE SON'S FRIEND. "
HOW GREAT IS THE LOVE OF GOD THAT HE SHOULD DO THE
SAME FOR US. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER SACRIFICED HIS ONLY
BEGOTTEN SON THAT WE COULD BE SAVED. I URGE YOU TO
ACCEPT HIS OFFER TO RESCUE YOU AND TAKE A HOLD OF THE
LIFE LINE HE IS THROWING OUT TO YOU IN THIS SERVICE."
WITH THAT, THE OLD MAN TURNED AND SAT BACK DOWN IN
HIS CHAIR AS SILENCE FILLED THE ROOM.
THE PASTOR AGAIN WALKED SLOWLY TO THE PULPIT AND
DELIVERED A BRIEF SERMON WITH AN INVITATION AT THE
END. HOWEVER, NO ONE RESPONDED TO THE APPEAL.
WITHIN MINUTES AFTER THE SERVICE ENDED, THE TWO
TEENAGERS WERE AT THE OLD MAN'S SIDE.
"THAT WAS A NICE STORY," POLITELY STATED ONE OF
THEM,"BUT I DON'T THINK IT WAS VERY REALISTIC FOR A
FATHER TO GIVE UP HIS ONLY SON'S LIFE IN HOPES THAT
THE OTHER BOY WOULD BECOME A CHRISTIAN."
"WELL, YOU'VE GOT A POINT THERE," THE OLD MAN REPLIED,
GLANCING DOWN AT HIS WORN BIBLE. A BIG SMILE BROADENED
HIS NARROW FACE. HE ONCE AGAIN LOOKED UP AT THE BOYS
AND SAID, "IT SURE ISN'T VERY REALISTIC, IS IT? BUT,
I'M STANDING HERE TODAY TO TELL YOU THAT STORY GIVES
ME A GLIMPSE OF WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE FOR GOD
TO GIVE UP HIS SON FOR ME.
YOU SEE...
I WAS THAT FATHER AND YOUR PASTOR IS MY SON'S FRIEND."
THE CHURCH'S PASTOR SLOWLY STOOD UP,
WALKED OVER TO THE PULPIT AND,
BEFORE HE GAVE HIS SERMON FOR THE EVENING,
HE BRIEFLY INTRODUCED A GUEST MINISTER
WHO WAS IN THE SERVICE THAT EVENING.
IN THE INTRODUCTION, THE PASTOR TOLD THE
CONGREGATION THAT THE GUEST MINISTER WAS
ONE OF HIS DEAREST CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND
THAT HE WANTED HIM TO HAVE A FEW MOMENTS
TO GREET THE CHURCH AND SHARE WHATEVER
HE FELT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE FOR THE SERVICE.
WITH THAT, AN ELDERLY MAN STEPPED UP TO THE
PULPIT AND BEGAN TO SPEAK.
"A FATHER, HIS SON, AND A FRIEND OF HIS SON WERE
SAILING OFF THE PACIFIC COAST ," HE BEGAN.
"WHEN A FAST APPROACHING STORM BLOCKED ANY
ATTEMPT TO GET BACK TO THE SHORE.
THE WAVES WERE SO HIGH, THAT EVEN THOUGH THE
FATHER WAS AN EXPERIENCED SAILOR, HE COULD NOT
KEEP THE BOAT UPRIGHT AND THE THREE WERE SWEPT
INTO THE OCEAN AS THE BOAT CAPSIZED."
THE OLD MAN HESITATED FOR A MOMENT,
MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH TWO TEENAGERS WHO WERE,
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE SERVICE BEGAN,
LOOKING SOMEWHAT INTERESTED IN HIS STORY.
THE AGED MINISTER CONTINUED WITH HIS STORY,
"GRABBING A RESCUE LINE, THE FATHER HAD TO MAKE THE
MOST EXCRUCIATING DECISION OF HIS LIFE: TO WHICH BOY
WOULD HE THROW THE OTHER END OF THE LIFE LINE.
HE ONLY HAD SECONDS TO MAKE THE DECISION.
THE FATHER KNEW THAT HIS SON WAS A CHRISTIAN AND
HE, ALSO, KNEW THAT HIS SON'S FRIEND WAS NOT.
THE AGONY OF HIS DECISION COULD NOT BE MATCHED BY
THE TORRENT OF WAVES.
AS THE FATHER YELLED OUT, 'I LOVE YOU, SON!'
HE THREW OUT THE LIFE LINE TO HIS SON'S FRIEND.
BY THE TIME THE FATHER HAD PULLED THE FRIEND BACK
TO THE CAPSIZED BOAT, HIS SON HAD DISAPPEARED BENEATH
THE RAGING SWELLS INTO THE BLACK OF NIGHT.
HIS BODY WAS NEVER RECOVERED.
BY THIS TIME, THE TWO TEENAGERS WERE SITTING UP
STRAIGHT IN THE PEW, ANXIOUSLY WAITING FOR THE NEXT
WORDS TO COME OUT OF THE OLD MINISTER'S MOUTH.
"THE FATHER," HE CONTINUED, "KNEW HIS SON WOULD
STEP INTO ETERNITY WITH JESUS AND HE COULD NOT
BEAR THE THOUGHT OF HIS SON'S FRIEND STEPPING INTO
AN ETERNITY WITHOUT JESUS.. THEREFORE, HE SACRIFICED
HIS SON TO SAVE THE SON'S FRIEND. "
HOW GREAT IS THE LOVE OF GOD THAT HE SHOULD DO THE
SAME FOR US. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER SACRIFICED HIS ONLY
BEGOTTEN SON THAT WE COULD BE SAVED. I URGE YOU TO
ACCEPT HIS OFFER TO RESCUE YOU AND TAKE A HOLD OF THE
LIFE LINE HE IS THROWING OUT TO YOU IN THIS SERVICE."
WITH THAT, THE OLD MAN TURNED AND SAT BACK DOWN IN
HIS CHAIR AS SILENCE FILLED THE ROOM.
THE PASTOR AGAIN WALKED SLOWLY TO THE PULPIT AND
DELIVERED A BRIEF SERMON WITH AN INVITATION AT THE
END. HOWEVER, NO ONE RESPONDED TO THE APPEAL.
WITHIN MINUTES AFTER THE SERVICE ENDED, THE TWO
TEENAGERS WERE AT THE OLD MAN'S SIDE.
"THAT WAS A NICE STORY," POLITELY STATED ONE OF
THEM,"BUT I DON'T THINK IT WAS VERY REALISTIC FOR A
FATHER TO GIVE UP HIS ONLY SON'S LIFE IN HOPES THAT
THE OTHER BOY WOULD BECOME A CHRISTIAN."
"WELL, YOU'VE GOT A POINT THERE," THE OLD MAN REPLIED,
GLANCING DOWN AT HIS WORN BIBLE. A BIG SMILE BROADENED
HIS NARROW FACE. HE ONCE AGAIN LOOKED UP AT THE BOYS
AND SAID, "IT SURE ISN'T VERY REALISTIC, IS IT? BUT,
I'M STANDING HERE TODAY TO TELL YOU THAT STORY GIVES
ME A GLIMPSE OF WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE FOR GOD
TO GIVE UP HIS SON FOR ME.
YOU SEE...
I WAS THAT FATHER AND YOUR PASTOR IS MY SON'S FRIEND."
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Valentines All Year Round
Valentines All Year Round
By: Michelle Edwards
"My heart knit-purl, knit-purls the pattern."
- Hope Anita Smith, "hand made", Greetings from Knit Café
An unexpected conversation with Hope Anita Smith rearranged my writing calendar. My scheduled essay--"Lost and Found Knits"--has been rescheduled. Instead Hope's story will be my after-Valentine's Day valentine to you. Non-caloric and Weight Watcher friendly. A story about a knitter who gives out valentines to the world. All year round.
I met Hope at a children's book writer's retreat I attended recently. But it wasn't until we both began our long journey home that I finally had a chance to talk with her. At the airport, at our gate’s shared waiting area, with an ear tuned to announcements about our impending flights, we chatted about writing until we realized our other mutual passion: knitting. Immediately, we started talking faster. There was a lot of ground to cover before our planes would board.
I showed Hope my new book, A Knitter's Home Companion. She told me she was in a knitting book, too: Greetings from the Knit Café. I knew that book. I could even picture her in it. Then we noticed another knitter sitting nearby, smiling at us. We paused to admire the colorful Kristin Nichols shawl she was stitching. This might have remained just another pleasant knitting encounter if Hope hadn't mentioned the scarves she knit for this trip. Eighteen of them. Wrapped in tulle with a ribbon on either end. She called them neck candy.
"I give them away," Hope told me. "Gifts for the flight attendants." A handmade card with poem or word of appreciation for what they do is tucked inside. Valentines. Hope's careful to bring enough for each leg of flight.
Imagine that.
But wait, there's more. Rummaging through her Mary Poppins'-sized purse, Hope pulled out a bouquet of the handmade cards. She hands these valentines to "cashiers at the grocery store, hostesses at restaurants, parking attendants, cab drivers, coat checkers, etc. Sometimes in California, sometimes New York. About 100 a year." She's done that for ten years now.
Hope always gives away the handmade--a journal, a watercolor, a card, and, of course, her hand-knits. Currently she's making linen washcloths to be paired with a bar of store-bought soap. For another a flight later this winter, she has already "tucked away" seven neck warmers.
The airport in Burlington, Vermont, where we sat that last day in January is very much like airports everywhere with uncomfortable seats, bad coffee, loud cell phone conversations, and other unwanted noise. But Hope's majestic appearance, her radiant smile, and her soulful tales of handmade giving cast a magical warmth to our sterile port of passage. After all, it appeared I was sitting next to a fairy godmother.
When Hope's flight was finally announced, we hugged a goodbye. Later, knitting through the snowy evening, from Vermont to Michigan and on back to Iowa, I thought about her. When husband Rody drove me home from the Cedar Rapids airport, I told him about Hope.
"Lovely," he said. And navigating slowly through the dark and flurries, cautiously avoiding slippery patches, concentrating on the road, I could tell that he, too, was touched by her story.
A few days later, I was still thinking about Hope and her year-round valentines. "What does it mean to you?" I asked her in an email.
"It gives me great joy to surprise people with a little bit of love." Hope wrote back. "I want each person to feel special in that moment. This was handmade for you. You matter."
We matter. Lovely, indeed.
Every knitter has a story. And each knitter's story brings us into their knitting world. Their chapters help us grow our own sense of the vast potential our needles can do for others. Let us inscribe Hope Anita Smith and her random acts of knitting kindness in the enormous book of big-hearted knitters. Next to her name, let's paste a constellation of gold stars to add to her glittering literary awards. May she inspire us all to reach new vistas of generosity.
Hope Anita Smith. Valentines to the world. All year round.
By: Michelle Edwards
"My heart knit-purl, knit-purls the pattern."
- Hope Anita Smith, "hand made", Greetings from Knit Café
An unexpected conversation with Hope Anita Smith rearranged my writing calendar. My scheduled essay--"Lost and Found Knits"--has been rescheduled. Instead Hope's story will be my after-Valentine's Day valentine to you. Non-caloric and Weight Watcher friendly. A story about a knitter who gives out valentines to the world. All year round.
I met Hope at a children's book writer's retreat I attended recently. But it wasn't until we both began our long journey home that I finally had a chance to talk with her. At the airport, at our gate’s shared waiting area, with an ear tuned to announcements about our impending flights, we chatted about writing until we realized our other mutual passion: knitting. Immediately, we started talking faster. There was a lot of ground to cover before our planes would board.
I showed Hope my new book, A Knitter's Home Companion. She told me she was in a knitting book, too: Greetings from the Knit Café. I knew that book. I could even picture her in it. Then we noticed another knitter sitting nearby, smiling at us. We paused to admire the colorful Kristin Nichols shawl she was stitching. This might have remained just another pleasant knitting encounter if Hope hadn't mentioned the scarves she knit for this trip. Eighteen of them. Wrapped in tulle with a ribbon on either end. She called them neck candy.
"I give them away," Hope told me. "Gifts for the flight attendants." A handmade card with poem or word of appreciation for what they do is tucked inside. Valentines. Hope's careful to bring enough for each leg of flight.
Imagine that.
But wait, there's more. Rummaging through her Mary Poppins'-sized purse, Hope pulled out a bouquet of the handmade cards. She hands these valentines to "cashiers at the grocery store, hostesses at restaurants, parking attendants, cab drivers, coat checkers, etc. Sometimes in California, sometimes New York. About 100 a year." She's done that for ten years now.
Hope always gives away the handmade--a journal, a watercolor, a card, and, of course, her hand-knits. Currently she's making linen washcloths to be paired with a bar of store-bought soap. For another a flight later this winter, she has already "tucked away" seven neck warmers.
The airport in Burlington, Vermont, where we sat that last day in January is very much like airports everywhere with uncomfortable seats, bad coffee, loud cell phone conversations, and other unwanted noise. But Hope's majestic appearance, her radiant smile, and her soulful tales of handmade giving cast a magical warmth to our sterile port of passage. After all, it appeared I was sitting next to a fairy godmother.
When Hope's flight was finally announced, we hugged a goodbye. Later, knitting through the snowy evening, from Vermont to Michigan and on back to Iowa, I thought about her. When husband Rody drove me home from the Cedar Rapids airport, I told him about Hope.
"Lovely," he said. And navigating slowly through the dark and flurries, cautiously avoiding slippery patches, concentrating on the road, I could tell that he, too, was touched by her story.
A few days later, I was still thinking about Hope and her year-round valentines. "What does it mean to you?" I asked her in an email.
"It gives me great joy to surprise people with a little bit of love." Hope wrote back. "I want each person to feel special in that moment. This was handmade for you. You matter."
We matter. Lovely, indeed.
Every knitter has a story. And each knitter's story brings us into their knitting world. Their chapters help us grow our own sense of the vast potential our needles can do for others. Let us inscribe Hope Anita Smith and her random acts of knitting kindness in the enormous book of big-hearted knitters. Next to her name, let's paste a constellation of gold stars to add to her glittering literary awards. May she inspire us all to reach new vistas of generosity.
Hope Anita Smith. Valentines to the world. All year round.
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