Compassion in the Dead Letter Office

I received this apparently true story [see below] through email and wanted to pass it on.
What a caring thing to do for a little girl the giver had not and never would meet.

Our 14-year-old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she
died, my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about
how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to
God so that when Abbey got to Heaven, God would recognize her.
She dictated and I wrote:
Dear God,
Will you please take special care of our dog, Abbey? She died
yesterday and is in heaven. We miss her very much. We are happy
that you let us have her as our dog even though she got sick.
I hope that you will play with her. She liked to play with balls
and swim before she got sick.
I am sending some pictures of her so that when you see her in
Heaven you will know she is our special dog. But I really do miss
her.
Love,
Meredith Claire

We put that in an envelope with two pictures of Abbey, and
addressed it to God in Heaven. We put our return address on it.

Then Meredith stuck some stamps on the front (because, as she said,
it may take lots of stamps to get a letter all the way to Heaven),
and that afternoon I let her drop it into the letter box at the
post office! .

For a few days, she would ask if God had gotten the letter yet. I
told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front
porch.

Curious, I went to look at it. It had a gold star card on the front
and said 'To Meredith' in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith took it in and opened it.

Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers, 'When a Pet Dies'. Taped to the
inside front cover was the letter we had written to God, in its
opened envelope. On the opposite page, one of the pictures of
Abbey was taped under the words 'For Meredith'.

We turned to the back cover, and there was the other picture of
Abbey, and this handwritten note on pink paper:

'Dear Meredith,

I know that you will be happy to know that Abbey arrived safely and
soundly in Heaven! Having the pictures you sent to me was such a
big help. I recognized Abbey right away.

You know, Meredith, she isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with
me--just like she stays in your heart--young and running and
playing. Abbey loved being your dog, you know.

Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets,
so I can't keep your beautiful letter. I am sending it to you with
the pictures so that you will have this book to keep and remember
Abbey. One of my angels is taking care of this for me. I hope the
little book helps.

Thank you for the beautiful letter. Thank your mother for sending
it. What a wonderful mother you have! I picked her especially for
you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you
very much. By the way, I am in heaven, but wherever there is love
I am there also.

Love,
God '
***
this story was verified as 'true' by snopes here:
http://www.snopes.com/glurge/abbey.asp

70's juggler

Paul Potts

A friend emailed me this today. It is too delightful -- so I just had to share.
btw-- Do yourself a favor: Read the text before scrolling down to the pic. :)
xxx
Edge Designs is an all-women run company that designs interior office space. They had a recent opportunity to do an office project in NYC.
The client allowed the women of this company a free hand in all design aspects. The client was a company that was also run by all women execs.
The result? Well, we all know that men never talk, never look at each other, and don't often laugh in the restroom.
The men's room is a serious and quiet place. But now, with the addition of one mural on the wall. . . .lets just say the men's restroom is a place of laughter and smiles---

Baffling The Almighty

GOD: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on this planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But, all I see are these green rectangles.
St. FRANCIS : It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
GOD: Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
ST. FRANCIS: A pparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it-sometimes twice a week.
GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?
ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.
GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?
ST. FRANCIS: No, Sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.
GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so i t will grow, and, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
ST. FRANCIS: Yes, Sir.
GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
ST. FRANCIS: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.
St. FRANCIS: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.
GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?
ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
GOD: And where do they get this mulch?
ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
GOD: Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?
ST. CATHERINE: "Dumb and Dumber", Lord. It's a story about....
GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis