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The Coffee Is Brewing … Enjoy It

by Yehudit

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about
stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass,
crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite – telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

All the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: “If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the
plain and cheap ones. While it is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. Be assured that
the cup itself, adds no quality to the coffee in most cases, just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.

What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups…and then began eyeing each other’s cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee, and the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the
type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of Life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God
has provided us.”

God brews the coffee, not the cups……….enjoy your coffee.

My wife and I were watching a show on The Learning Channel titled, “A
Dog’s World.” One segment focused on dogs practice of urinating everywhere
to define who they are and whose territory it is, among many other things.
“Basically,” the narrator said, “dogs are leaving each other messages.”
I looked at my wife and said, “So I guess we could call it p-mail.”

A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience, raised a glass of water and asked, “how heavy is this glass of water?”

Answers called out ranged from 8oz. to 20oz. The lecturer replied, “The absolute weight doesn’t matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it. If I
hold it for a minute, that’s not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, i’ll have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you’ll have to call an
ambulance.

In each case, it’s the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.” He continued, “And that’s the way it is with stress management.
If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy, we won’t be able to carry on.”

“As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again. When we’re refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.
So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don’t carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow. Whatever burdens you’re carrying now,
let them down for a moment if you can. Relax; pick them up later after you’ve rested. Life is short. Enjoy it! ”

I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front
of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and
started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly.

So I asked, “Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!” This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call,
“The Law of the Garbage Truck.”

He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger and full of disappointment.
As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they’ll dump it on you.

Don’t take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well and move on. Don’t take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on
the streets. The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life’s too short to wake up in the morning with regrets,
so “Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don’t.”

There is a story of two friends who were walking through a desert. At a certain point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other
one right across the face. The one who got slapped was very hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand: “Today my closest friend slapped me.”

The two friends kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to go into the water. The one, who had been slapped, got stuck in the mire
and started drowning, but his friend saved him. After the friend recovered from near drowning, he carved out on a stone: “Today my closest friend saved
my life.”

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, “After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?”

The other friend replied: “When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does
something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it.”

A wise woman, who was traveling in the mountains, found a very precious and very rare stone in a stream. The next day she met another traveler who was hungry,
and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without
hesitation. The traveler left, rejoicing in his good fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime.

But, a few days later, he came back to return the stone to the wise woman. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I know how valuable this stone is, but I give
it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me this stone.”

Two local men were seriously injured when their pickup truck left the road
and hit a tree near Cotton Plant on State Highway 38 early Monday morning

Thurston Poole, 33, of Des Arc, and Billy Ray Wallis, 38, of Little Rock are
listed in serious condition at Baptist Medical Center.

The accident occurred as the two men were returning to Des Arc after a
cat-gigging trip. (Note to city slickers, cat-gigging, or cat-sticking,
is how, armed with a small pitchfork), you catch cats from the bayou bank.

Cats make a tasty supper.

On an overcast Sunday night, Poole’s pickup truck headlights malfunctioned.
The two men concluded that the headlight fuse on the older model truck had
burned out. As a replacement fuse was not available, Wallis noticed that the
.22 caliber bullet from his pistol fit perfectly into the fuse box next to
the steering wheel column. Upon inserting the bullet, the headlights again
began to operate and the two men proceeded on eastbound toward the White
river Bridge.

After traveling approximately 20 miles and just before crossing the river,
the bullet apparently overheated, discharged and struck Poole in the right
testicle. The vehicle swerved sharply to the right, exiting the pavement and
striking the tree. Poole suffered only minor cuts and abrasions, but will
require surgery to repair the other wound. Wallis sustained a broken
clavicle and was treated and released.

Thank God we weren’t on that bridge when Thurston shot his nuts off or we
might now be dead, ‘said Wallis.

“I’ve been a trooper for I0 years in this part of the world,” said Deputy
Snyder, “but this is a first for me. I cant believe that those two would
admit how the accident happened.”

Upon being notified of the wreck, Lavina, Poole’s wife, asked how many cats
the boys had caught, and did anyone think to get them from the truck.

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn’t move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside
her she didn’t acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was O K. She raised her head and looked at
me and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking,” she said in a clear voice strong.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, Grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,” I explained to her.

“Have you ever looked at your hands,” she asked. “I mean really looked at your hands?”

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as
I tried to figure out the point she was making. Grandma smiled and related this story:

“Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and
weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught
me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band
they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn’t understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.
And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I’ve been and the ruggedness of life.”

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of Grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held
by the hands of God.

I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

On the first day, God created the dog and said: ‘Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give
you a life span of twenty years.’

The dog said: ‘That’s a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I’ll give you back the other ten?’

So God agreed.

On the second day, God created the monkey and said: ‘Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I’ll give you a twenty-year life span.’

The monkey said: ‘Monkey tricks for twenty years? That’s a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?’

And God agreed.

On the third day, God created the cow and said: ‘You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give
milk to support the farmer’s family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years.’

The cow said: ‘That’s kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I’ll give back the other forty?’

And God agreed again.

On the fourth day, God created man and said: ‘Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I’ll give you twenty years.’

But man said: ‘Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog
gave back; that makes eighty, okay?’

‘Okay,’ said God, ‘You asked for it.’

So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family.
For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.