My  confession:
I am a  Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish.  And it  does not bother me even a little bit when people call those  beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel  threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they  are: Christmas trees.
It  doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I  don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a  ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all  brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't  bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key  intersection near my beach house in  Malibu . If  people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a  few hundred yards away.
I don't  like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think  Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think  people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed  around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that  America is an  explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and  I don't like it being shoved down my throat.  
Or maybe  I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we  should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God  as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old,  too.  But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick  and Jessica came from and where the  America we knew  went to.
In light  of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a  little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny,  it's intended to get you thinking.
Billy  Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson  asked her 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding  Katrina)  Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful  response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just  as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our  schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our  lives.  And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly  backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His  protection if we demand He leave us alone?'  
In light  of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think  it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body  found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools,  and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in  school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal,  and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.  
Then Dr.  Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they  misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we  might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide).  We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said  OK.
Now  we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they  don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill  strangers, their classmates, and themselves.  
Probably,  if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I  think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.'  

Funny  how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the  world's going to hell.  Funny how we believe what the  newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.  Funny how  you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire  but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think  twice about sharing.  Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene  articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of  God is suppressed in the school and workplace.  
Are you  laughing?
Funny  how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on  your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what  they will think of you for sending it.  
Funny  how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than  what God thinks of us.
Pass it  on if you think it has merit. If not then just discard it... no one  will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't  sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.  My  Best Regards.

Honestly  and respectfully,
Ben  Stein  

This was sent By my Cjay , and I had yo share it .. Just another canadian cock up ,

CANADA PENSION - A Must Read &; Only in Canada .


Do not apply for your old age pension...
Apply to be a refugee.  It is interesting that the federal
government provides a single refugee with a monthly allowance of
$1,890.00 and each can get an additional $580.00 in  social assistance
for a total of $2,470.00.
This compares very well to a single pensioner who, after contributing to
the growth and development of Canada for 40 or 50 years,
can only receive a monthly maximum of $1,012.00 in old age pension and
Guaranteed Income  Supplement.
Maybe our pensioners should apply as refugees!

Let's send this thought to as many Canadians as we can and maybe we can  
get the refugees cut back to $1,012.00 and the pensioners up to $2,470.00,
so they can enjoy the money they were forced to submit to the
Canadian  government for those 40 to 50 years.

Please forward this to every Canadian you know

Back to School Kids ?  this is inspirational

Absolutely amazing!

everyso Often even Keety gets sentimental

THE OLD PHONE -- A MUST READ!!!


When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our
neighbourhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The
shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the
telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.



Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an
amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she
did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the
correct time.



My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my
mother was visiting a neighbour. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the
basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but
there
seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give
sympathy.



I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at
the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor
and dragged it to the landing Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the
parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the
mouthpiece just above my head.
A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.


"Information."

"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough
now that I had an audience.


"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.


"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.


"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open the icebox?" she
asked.

I said I could.

"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the
voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for
help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped
me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park
just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information
Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things
grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why
is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families,
only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"


She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Wayne always
remember that there are other worlds to sing in."


Somehow I felt better.


Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."
"Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?" I
asked.


All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was
nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend
very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden  box back home
and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new  phone that sat on the
table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood
conversations never really left me.



Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the  serene sense
of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and
kind she was to have spent her
time on a little  boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle.
I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on
the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I
was doing, I dialled my hometown Operator and said, "Information Please."


Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."


I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please  tell
me how to spell fix?"

   There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your
finger must have healed by now."

    I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea
how much you meant to me during that time?"

    I wonder,"
she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me. I
never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."

   I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if
I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.


    "Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."

     Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered
"Information." I asked for Sally.

    "Are you a friend?" she said.



   "Yes, a very old friend," I answered.



    "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working
part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died  five weeks
ago."


Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a
minute, did you say your name was
Wayne?" "Yes." I answered.


     "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you
called.


    Let me read it to you."
    The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in.
He'll know what I mean."


    I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.


    Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.


    Whose life have you touched today?


        Lifting you on eagle's wings. May you find the joy and peace you long
for.



   Life is a journey ... NOT a guided tour.  So don't miss the ride and
have a great time going
around you don't get a second shot at it.



   I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it and
get a blessing from it just as I did