http://fromjesus.freeservers.com
THE HOLY BIBLE, THIS IS AN OLD KING JAMES VERSION. DOE'S ANYONE SEE THE SYMBOL IN THE RIGHT HAND CORNER?
WAS KING JAMES A MASON?
WE ALL HAVE A LOT TO LEARN.








The following is a few laugh's and list useful links that I have compiled. If you wish to be added to this list, please send me an e-mail.

"MOM'S LAST LAUGH"

Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew
where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - my mother.

She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was
so intense, I found it hard to breathe at times.

Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays,
held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak,
comforted me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and
prayed for me my entire life.

When Mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby
and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart,
so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without
entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor.

"What now, Lord?" I asked sitting in church. My life stretched
out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his
face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand. My sister
sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as
she cradled their child.

All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been
with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking
her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible
together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was
alone.

I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church.
Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An
exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat
next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap.
His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle.

"I'm late," he explained, though no explanation was necessary.

After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, "Why do
they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret?'"

"Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary.
No one called her 'Mary,'" I whispered. I wondered why
this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church.
He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting.
Who was this stranger anyway?

"No, that isn't correct," he insisted, as several people glanced
over at us whispering, "Her name is Mary, Mary Peters."

"That isn't who this is."

"Isn't this the Lutheran church?"

"No, the Lutheran church is across the street."

"Oh."

" I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir."

The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of
the man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out
as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would
be interpreted as sobs.

The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners
only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the
bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was
laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late
for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.

At the final "Amen," we darted out a door and into the parking
lot. "I do believe we'll be the talk of the town," he smiled. He
said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's
funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.

That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who
attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year
after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he
was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at
the same church, right on time.

In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of
loneliness, God gave love. This past June we celebrated our
twenty-second wedding anniversary.

Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, "Her mother
and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's truly a match made in
heaven."
--Author Unknown