From:          Rhonda Steiner
To:               heb_roots_chr@geocities.com
Subject:      Jimmy talks with God


                  JIMMY TALKS WITH GOD


Little Jimmy was laying about on a hillock in the middle of a
meadow on a warm spring day.  Puffy white clouds rolled by and he
pondered their shape.  Soon, he began to think about God.

"God?  Are you really there?"  Jimmy said out loud.

To his astonishment a voice came from the clouds.  "Yes, Jimmy?
What can I do for you?"

Seizing the opportunity, Jimmy asked, "God?  What is a million
years like to you?"

Knowing that Jimmy could not understand the concept of infinity, God
responded in a manner to which Jimmy could relate.  "A million years
to me, Jimmy, is like a minute."

"Oh," said Jimmy.  "Well, then, what's a million dollars like to
you?"

"A million dollars to me, Jimmy, is like a penny."

"Wow!" remarked Jimmy, getting an idea.  "You're so generous...
can I have one of your pennies?"

God replied, "Sure thing, Jimmy!  Just a minute."

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From:          Rhonda Steiner
To:               heb_roots_chr@geocities.com
Subject:       Motivation for math


           HOW TO GET BETTER GRADES IN MATH         


A ten-year-old Jewish boy was failing math.  His parents tried
everything from tutors to hypnosis; but to no avail.

Finally, at the insistence of a family friend, they decided to
enroll their son in a private Catholic school.

After the first day, the boy's parents were surprised when he
walked in after school with a stern, focused and very determined
expression on his face.

He went straight past them, right to his room and quietly
closed the door.  For nearly two hours he toiled away in his room
- with math books strewn about his desk and the surrounding
floor.  He emerged long enough to eat, and after quickly cleaning
his plate, went straight back to his room, closed the door and
worked feverishly at his studies until bedtime.

This pattern of behavior continued until it was time for the
first quarter's report card.  The boy walked in with it unopened
- laid it on the dinner table and went straight to his room.

Cautiously, his mother opened it and, to her amazement, she saw a
large red 'A' under the subject of Math.

Overjoyed, she and her husband rushed into their son's room,
thrilled at his remarkable progress.

"Was it the nuns that did it?" the father asked.
The boy shook his head and said "No."

"Was it the one-to-one tutoring? The peer-mentoring?"
"No."

"The textbooks?  The teachers?  The curriculum?"
"No", said the son.

"On that first day, when I walked in the front door and saw
that guy nailed to the PLUS  sign, I KNEW they meant business!"

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From:          Paul Lasarge
To:            heb_roots_chr@mail.geocities.com
Subject:       Hell Ain't What it Seems (Humor)


                HELL AIN'T WHAT IT SEEMS


One day while walking down the street a highly successful, executive
woman was tragically hit by a bus and she died. Her soul arrived up in
heaven where she was met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter himself.

"Welcome to Heaven," said St. Peter. "Before you get settled in though
it seems we have a problem. You see, strangely enough, we've never
once had an executive make it this far and we're not really sure what
to do with you." "No problem, just let me in." said the woman. "Well,
I'd like to, but I have higher orders.  What we're going to do is let
you have a day in Hell and a day in Heaven and then you can choose
whichever one you want to spend an eternity in." "Actually, I think
I've made up my mind...I prefer to stay in Heaven" "Sorry, we have
rules..." And with that St. Peter put the executive in an elevator and
it went down-down-down to hell.

The doors opened and she found herself stepping out onto the putting
green of a beautiful golf course. In the distance was a country club
and standing in front of her were all her friends - fellow executives
that she had worked with and they were all dressed in evening gowns
and cheering for her.

They ran up and kissed her on both cheeks and they talked about old
times. They played an excellent round of golf and  at night went to
the country club where she enjoyed an excellent steak and lobster
dinner. She met the Devil who was actually a really nice guy (kinda
cute) and she had a great time telling jokes and dancing. She was
having good time that before she knew it, it was time to leave.
Everybody shook her hand and waved good-bye as she got on the
elevator. The elevator went up-up-up and opened back up at the Pearly
Gates and found St. Peter waiting for her.

"Now it's time to spend a day in heaven. So she spent the next 24
hours lounging around on clouds and playing the harp and singing. She
had a great time and before she knew it her 24 hours were up and St.
Peter came and got her. "So, you've spent a day in hell and you've
spent a day in heaven. Now you must choose your eternity." The woman
paused for a second and then replied, "Well, I never thought I'd say
this, I mean, Heaven has been really great and all,  but I think I had
a better time in Hell." So, St. Peter escorted her to the elevator and
again she went down-down-down back to Hell.

When the doors of the elevator opened she found herself standing in a
desolate wasteland covered in garbage and filth. She saw her friends
were dressed in rags and were picking up the garbage and putting it in
sacks. The Devil came up to her and put his arm around her.

"I don't understand," stammered the woman, "yesterday I was here and
there was a golf course and a country club and we ate lobster and we
danced and had a great time. Now all there is a wasteland of garbage
and all my friends look miserable." The Devil looked at her and
smiled. "That's because yesterday we were recruiting you, but today
you're staff."

**********************************************************************

From:          Brad & Lorrie Owen
To:              heb_roots_chr@geocities.com
Subject:      Who is that Stranger?


                 WHO IS THAT STRANGER?


A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to
our small Tennessee town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with
this enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our
family.

The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into
the world a few months later.  As I grew up I never questioned his
place in our family.  In my young mind, each member had a special
niche. My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example. Fran,
my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and
develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary
instructors-Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me
to obey it.  But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the
most fascinating  tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily
conversations.

He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening.  If
I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it all.
He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could
predict the future. The pictures he could draw were so life like that
I would often laugh or cry as I watched.

He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill and me to
our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to
see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to
several movie stars.  My brother and I were deeply impressed by John
Wayne in particular. 

The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn' t seem to mind-but
sometimes Mom would quietly get up-while the rest of us were
enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places-go to her room,
read her Bible and pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed that the
stranger would leave.

You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions.
But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, for
example, was not allowed in our house-not from us, from our friends,
or adults. Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four letter
words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the
stranger was never confronted.

My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - - not
even for cooking.  But the stranger felt like we needed exposure and
enlightened us to other ways of life.  He offered us beer and other
alcoholic beverages often.  He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars
manly, and pipes distinguished.  He talked freely (probably too much
too freely) about sex.   His comments were sometimes blatant,
sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.  I know now that my
early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the
stranger.

As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger
did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my
parents.   Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.

More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with
the young family on Morningside Drive. He is not nearly so intriguing
to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into
my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a
corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw
his pictures.  His name?

We called him TV.


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