Life is Good
My face in the mirror
Isn’t wrinkled or drawn.
My house isn’t dirty,
The cobwebs are gone.
My garden looks lovely
And so does my lawn.
I think I might never
Put my glasses back on.
A minister was planning a wedding at the close of the Sunday morning service.
After the benediction he had planned to call the couple down to be married for a brief ceremony before the congregation.
For the life of him, he couldn’t think of the names of those who were to be married.
“Will those wanting to get married please come to the front?” he requested.
Immediately, nine single ladies, three widows, four widowers, and six single men stepped to the front.
I was the new teacher for the toddler-age Sunday school class, which included my 14-month-old daughter. During a lesson on creation, I’d ask questions like, “Who made the trees?” or “Who made the sun?” and the children would respond, “God did.” I was pleased the children learned quickly that God made everything.
Teaching lessons at home was more of a challenge. I had tried hard to teach my daughter to pick up her toys, and she wasn’t learning very quickly. One day I walked into the living room to find toys scattered everywhere. In exasperation I asked, “Who made this mess?” My daughter looked at me with a proud smile and said, “God did!”
In today’s politically correct environment where you have to be so careful to keep from offending anyone, we might all have to give reports like this fourth grader who reported on the origins of the Thanksgiving holiday. “The pilgrims came here seeking freedom of you know what. When they landed, they gave thanks to you know who. Because of them, we can worship each Sunday, you know where.”
A teacher asked her young pupils how they spent their vacation. One child wrote the following:
“We always used to spend the holidays with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live here in a big brick house, but Grandpa got retired and they moved to Florida.
They live in a tin box and have rocks painted green to look like grass. They ride around on big tricycles and wear name tags because they don’t know who they are anymore. They go to a building called a wrecked center, but they must have got it fixed, because it is all right now.
They play games and do exercises there, but they don’t do them very well. There is a swimming pool, too, but they all jump up and down in it with their hats on. I guess they don’t know how to swim.
At their gate, there is a doll house with a little old man sitting in it. He watches all day so nobody can escape. Sometimes they sneak out. Then they go cruising in their golf carts.
My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody there cooks, they just eat out. And they eat the same thing every night: Early Birds. Some of the people can’t get past the man in the dollhouse to go out. So the ones who do get out bring food back to the wrecked center and call it pot luck.
My Grandma says Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retirement and says I should work hard so I can be retired some day, too. when I earn my retirement I want to be the man in the doll house. Then I will let people out so they can visit their grandchildren.”
In a restroom at IBM’s Watson Center, a supervisor had placed a sign directly above the sink. It had a single word on it:
The next day, when he went to the restroom, he looked at the sign and right below, immediately above the soap dispenser, someone had carefully lettered another sign which read: