tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90601679525848633592024-03-05T02:07:00.315-08:00Stories and ANEcdotes to keep you SANEFor preachers, teachers, speakers, and listeners alike. From Divine Word Seminary, Tagaytay City, PhilippinesFr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-48465670341402202062019-02-03T02:09:00.000-08:002019-02-03T02:09:07.631-08:00Bible Reading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-49082088370755087652018-09-01T17:14:00.000-07:002018-09-01T17:14:00.494-07:00your enemy is your friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-19778095037169375082015-12-16T17:11:00.001-08:002015-12-16T17:11:04.865-08:00Kalayaan at Alipin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-24247227549085704012015-12-16T17:10:00.001-08:002015-12-16T17:10:15.974-08:00Paghihirap at Pangarap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-56284449842788470442015-12-16T17:09:00.001-08:002015-12-16T17:09:11.711-08:00Patience and Attitude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-36817103353443739642015-12-16T17:08:00.000-08:002015-12-16T17:08:12.607-08:00Pagsasao daguiti Ilocano<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-73586752736277708732015-05-27T16:55:00.000-07:002015-05-27T16:55:11.714-07:00Most Dangerous Alphabet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-44540073748940061042015-05-10T04:56:00.000-07:002015-05-10T04:56:12.442-07:00Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-14720517629213275792014-07-05T15:03:00.003-07:002014-07-05T15:03:23.662-07:00Love is enough<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
The Japanese journalist asks the usual question: “And what are your favorite writers?” I give my usual answer: “Jorge Amado, Jorge Luis Borges, William Blake and Henry Miller.”</div>
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The translator looks at me astonished: “Henry Miller?” But she soon realizes her role isn’t to digress and gets back to her work. At the end of the interview, I want to know why she was so surprised about my answer.</div>
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“I am not criticizing Henry Miller; I’m his fan too,” she answers. “Did you know he was married to a Japanese woman?”<br />Yes: I’m not ashamed to be fanatic about someone I admire and try to know everything about their life.</div>
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I went to a book fair just to get to know Jorge Amado, I travelled 48 hours in a bus to meet with Borges ( this ended up not happening due to my own fault: when I saw him I froze and said nothing), I rang the bell of John Lennon’s door in New York (the porter asked me to leave a letter explaining the reason of my visit and said Lennon would probably call, this never happened). I had plans of going to see Henry Miller in Big Sur, but he died before I was able to gather the money for the trip.</div>
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“The Japanese woman’s name is Hoki,” I answer proudly. “I know too that in Tokyo there is a museum devoted to Miller’s watercolors.”<br />“Would you like to meet her tonight?”<br />But what a question! Of course, I would like to be near someone that lived with one of my idols.<br />I imagine she must receive visitors from all over the world and several interview requests; after all, they stayed together for almost 10 years.</div>
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We stop at a street where the sun probably never shines, as a viaduct passes over it. The translator points to a second-rate bar on the second floor of an old building.</div>
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We go up the stairs, we enter the completely empty bar and there is Hoki Miller. In order to conceal my surprise, I try to exaggerate my enthusiasm about her ex-husband.<br />She takes me to a room in the back where she set up a small museum – a few pictures, two or three signed watercolors, a signed book and nothing else.</div>
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She tells me that she met him when she took a masters degree in Los Angeles and played piano in a restaurant to support herself, singing French songs (in Japanese). Miller went there for dinner, loved the songs (he had spent a great part of his life in Paris), they went out a couple of times and he asked her to marry him.</div>
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She tells me delightful things about their life in common, about the problems originated by the age difference between them (Miller was over 50, Hoki wasn’t 20), of the time they spent together. She explains that the heirs from the other marriages got everything, inclusively the copyrights of the books – but that didn’t matter to her, what she lived with him lies beyond financial compensation.</div>
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I ask her to play that music that caught Miller’s attention many years back. She does it with tears in her eyes and sings ‘Autumn Leaves’ (Feuilles Mortes).</div>
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The bar, the piano, the voice of the Japanese woman echoing in the empty walls, not caring about the ex-wives’ victories, about the rivers of money Miller’s books shall make, about the world fame she could enjoy today.</div>
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“It wasn’t worth it to fight for inheritance: his love was enough to me,” she says at the end, understanding what we felt.<br />Yes, for the complete absence of bitterness or rancor in her voice, I understand that love was enough.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px; padding: 0px 0px 15px;">
author: Paulo Coelho</div>
Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-51839711501141947892014-07-03T16:26:00.000-07:002014-07-03T16:26:20.297-07:00Between Honesty and LieBF kasama si GF sa kwarto<br />
GF: babe , bakit may dalawang pirasong butil ng bigas dito sa drawer mo?<br />
BF: babe, aaminin ako sayo. Pag nagsisinungaling ako sayo, naglalagay ako ng isang butil ng bigas dyan.<br />
GF: (kinilig) Wow. Mag lilimang buwan na tayo, 2 beses ka pa lang nagsinungaling sa akin. I loveyou babe.<br />
Eh bakit may 32 pesos dito ?<br />
BF: Umabot na kase ng isang kilo babe eh. Kaya binenta ko na. Sayang ehFr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-45004443533327931122014-05-16T01:23:00.000-07:002014-05-16T01:23:06.674-07:00The Sight of the BlindTwo men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.<br />
<br />
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.<br />
<br />
His bed was next to the room's only window.<br />
<br />
The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.<br />
<br />
The men talked for hours on end.<br />
<br />
They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on<br />
vacation..<br />
<br />
Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.<br />
<br />
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.<br />
<br />
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color<br />
and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.<br />
<br />
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.<br />
<br />
One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.<br />
<br />
Although the other man could not hear the band -he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with<br />
descriptive words.<br />
<br />
Days, weeks and months passed.One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body<br />
of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.<br />
<br />
She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.<br />
<br />
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left<br />
him alone.<br />
<br />
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.<br />
<br />
It faced a blank wall.<br />
<br />
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this<br />
window.<br />
<br />
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.<br />
<br />
She said, 'Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.'Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-91705564882556381462014-05-06T19:42:00.003-07:002014-05-06T19:42:34.409-07:00Everything I need to know about life, I learned from Noah's Ark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-57841016658939989122014-05-06T19:41:00.002-07:002014-05-06T19:41:49.061-07:00Grudges<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-19616546768722921472014-05-06T19:40:00.002-07:002014-05-06T19:40:47.514-07:00Calling of the Unqualified<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-90421686809475056922014-05-06T19:39:00.003-07:002014-05-06T19:39:38.202-07:00Difference between complete and finish in marriage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-74636020425490978212014-05-06T19:36:00.000-07:002014-05-06T19:36:51.127-07:00how to work fast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-68200996291445260582014-05-06T07:45:00.001-07:002014-05-06T07:45:12.801-07:00appointment with death<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-17239756407938797662014-05-02T15:37:00.001-07:002014-05-02T15:37:55.673-07:00In the Beginningn the Beginning<br />
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.<br />
<br />
Quickly, God was faced with a class action suit for failure to file an environmental impact statement. God was granted a temporary permit for the project, but was stymied with the cease and desist order for the earthly part.<br />
<br />
Then God said, "Let there be light!"<br />
<br />
Immediately, the officials demanded to know how the light would be made.<br />
<br />
Would there be strip mining? What about thermal pollution? God explained that the light would come from a large ball of fire. God was granted provisional permission to make light, assuming that no smoke would result from the ball of fire, and that he would obtain a building permit and to conserve energy, He would have the light out half the time. God agreed and offered to call the light "Day" and the darkness "Night". The officials replied that they were not interested in semantics.<br />
<br />
God said, "Let the earth put forth vegetation, plant yielding seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit."<br />
<br />
The EPA agreed, so long as only native seed was used.<br />
<br />
Then God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth."<br />
<br />
The officials pointed out that this would require approval from the Department of Game coordinated with the Heavenly Wildlife Federation and the Audubon Society. Everything was okay until God said the project would be completed in six days.<br />
<br />
The officials said it would take at least two hundred days to review the applications and the impact statement. After that there would be a public hearing. Then there would be ten to twelve months before...<br />
<br />
At this point, God created Hell.<br />
<br />
(http://www.ancient-hebrew.org/19_beginning.html)Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-56811848080943855142014-04-19T14:29:00.001-07:002014-05-02T15:37:11.314-07:00Let there be light!The parish priest wanted to have some kind of a drama at the liturgy of the fire to prepare his faithful for the long Easter vigil rites. So he told Pedro his sacristan: tonight, when we light the fire outside the church, stay at the tower, and when I shout "Let there light, drop a ball of fire ...Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-58001813853014754032014-04-17T07:31:00.001-07:002014-04-17T07:31:21.847-07:00fertilizerA farmer was driving along the road with a load of fertilizer. A little boy, playing in front of his house, saw him and called, "What've you got in your truck?"<br />
<br />
"Fertilizer," the farmer replied.<br />
<br />
"What are you going to do with it?" asked the little boy.<br />
<br />
"Put it on strawberries," answered the farmer.<br />
<br />
"You ought to live here," the little boy advised him. "We put sugar and cream on ours."Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-84159695817410752422014-04-15T01:07:00.003-07:002014-04-15T01:07:32.003-07:00Two FriendsTwo friends<br />
<br />
Once two friends argued, and one of them slapped another. This man felt a pain, but telling nothing and wrote on the sand:<br />
— Today my best friend slapped me.<br />
<br />
They continued walking and found an oasis, in which wellspring decided to swim. The one who was slapped, started to sink, but his friend saved him.<br />
<br />
When he regained consciousness, wrote on the stone: "Today my best friend saved my life."<br />
<br />
Another friend, who slapped and saved his friend’s life, of asked him:<br />
- When I hurt you, you wrote on the sand and now you are writing on the stone. Why?<br />
His friend said:<br />
<br />
- When someone hurts us, we should write it on the sand, so that the wind could erase it. But when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it on the stone, so that the wind could not erase it.Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-65588805013878175352014-04-14T20:29:00.001-07:002014-04-14T20:29:20.409-07:00The Ship of FriendshipA voyaging ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and only two of the men on it were able to swim to a small, desert like island.<br />
<br />
The two survivors who have been a good friends, not knowing what else to do, agreed that they had no other recourse but to pray to God. However, to find out whose prayer was more powerful, they agreed to divide the territory between them and stay on opposite sides of the island.<br />
<br />
The first thing they prayed for was food. The next morning, the first man saw a fruit-bearing tree on his side of the land, and he was able to eat its fruit. The other man’s parcel of land remained barren.<br />
After a week, the first man was lonely and he decided to pray for a wife. The next day, another ship was wrecked, and the only survivor was a woman who swam to his side of the land. On the other side of the island, there was nothing.<br />
<br />
Soon the first man prayed for a house, clothes, more food. The next day, like magic, all of these were given to him. However, the second man still had nothing.<br />
Finally, the first man prayed for a ship, so that he and his wife could leave the island. In the morning, he found a ship docked at his side of the island. The first man boarded the ship with his wife and decided to leave the second man on the island.<br />
<br />
He considered the other man unworthy to receive God’s blessings, since none of his prayers had been answered.<br />
<br />
As the ship was about to leave, the first man heard a voice from heaven booming, “Why are you leaving your companion on the island?”<br />
<br />
“My blessings are mine alone, since I was the one who prayed for them,” the first man answered. “His prayers were all unanswered and so he does not deserve anything.”<br />
<br />
“You are mistaken!” the voice rebuked him. “He had only one prayer, which I answered. If not for that, you would not have received any of my blessings.”<br />
<br />
“Tell me,” the first man asked the voice, “What did he pray for that I should owe him anything?”<br />
“He prayed that all your prayers be answered “<br />
<br />
<br />
Moral: For all we know, our blessings are not the fruits of our prayers alone, but those of another praying for us (Congregational Prayer). Value your friends, don’t leave your loved ones behind.<br />
<br />
Submitted By: Velma, USA<br />
Source: http://iholdittrue.multiply.com<br />
<br />
*Lumubog na lahat ng SHIP wag lang ang ating FRIENDSHIP<br />
<br />
"Ang mga kaibigan ay parang mga prutas - may dalawang kalase yan SEASONAL at FOR ALL SEASONS."Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-70656758392468196552014-03-10T02:07:00.000-07:002014-03-10T02:07:10.198-07:00The Thrifty IlocanoAn Arab Sheikh was admitted to the Philippine Heart Center in Manila for a heart transplant, but prior to the surgery, the doctors needed to store his blood type in case the need arises. As the gentleman had a rare type of blood, it couldn't be found locally, so the call went out to a number of provinces.<br />
<br />
Finally an Ilocano was located who had a similar type of blood. The Ilocano willingly donated his blood for the Arab. After the surgery, the Arab sent the Ilocano, as appreciation for giving his blood, a new Porsche, diamonds, jewelry and a million US dollars.<br />
<br />
A few years later, once again the Arab had to go through a corrective surgery. His doctor telephoned the Ilocano who was more than happy to donate his blood again. After the second surgery, the Arab sent the Ilocano a thank you card and a jar of Almond halwa sweets.<br />
<br />
The Ilocano was shocked that the Arab this time did not reciprocate his kind gesture as he had anticipated. He phoned the Arab and asked him:<br />
<br />
"I thought that you would be generous again, that you would again give me a Porsche, Money, Diamonds and Jewelry...but you only gave me a thank you card and a jar of Almond sweets!" To this the Arab replied:<br />
<br />
"Manong...I now have Ilocano blood in my veins."Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-3254343048955132472014-03-02T00:09:00.001-08:002014-03-02T00:09:16.774-08:00The Parable of the Birds<div style="text-align: center;">
“Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap”</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
8th Sunday in Ord Time A [Matthew 6:24-24]</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Randy Flores, SVD 3/2/14</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Once there was a farmer who was complaining that birds are eating the grains of his palay in his rice field; besides, the birds were creating a lot of noise and leaving a lot of dirt. He made scarecrows and other techniques to shoo the birds away, but to no avail.<br />
<br />
One day he came to a church and decided to pray to God to send the birds away from his rice field. It happened that there was a mass going on and the priest was reading today’s gospel: “Look at the birds of the sky; they do not sow or reap, your heavenly Father feeds them.”<br />
<br />
The farmer was upset to learn that it was God who was feeding these birds from his palay grains. So he complained to God and said: Dear God, please stop feeding your birds from my palay. I need a good harvest also to feed my family.<br />
<br />
To his surprise, there were no more birds when he got back to his rice field.<br />
<br />
But after some time, the farmer missed the birds, their chirpings, their noise that made his rice field alive. Come harvest time, even without the birds, he had a poor harvest.<br />
<br />
So he went back to the church and prayed. This time he said, “Dear God, with or without birds, I had a poor harvest, you can send back your birds and let them eat in my rice field again. Besides, I miss their beautiful songs.”<br />
<br />
So the birds came back; ate and sang once again in the farmer’s rice field.<br />
<br />
The following year, the farmer had a bountiful harvest. He came to realize that the birds also ate the insects in his palay, and their wastes fertilized his rice field; besides, the he enjoyed the beautiful singing of the birds.<br />
<br />
------<br />
Jesus said in today’s Gospel: “Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?<br />
<br />
Are we not more important than the birds? Are we not more important to God more than anything else?<br />
<br />
Words from the Prophet Isaiah (1st reading): “Can a mother forget her infant,<br />
be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I [God] will never forget you.”<br />
<br />
Let us NOT be afraid then of what the future holds for us for God holds our future; instead let us always have hope in God; and be persons of big faith (vs. “oligopistoi” or “little faith” in Mat 6:30).<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9060167952584863359.post-61652703692429420902014-02-24T00:38:00.003-08:002014-02-24T00:38:47.615-08:00BRINGING MONEY IN THE AFTERLIFEThere was a man, who had worked all of his life, had saved all of his money, and was a real miser when it came to his money. Just before he died, he said to his wife, "When I die, I want you to take all my money and put it in the casket with me. I want to take my money to the afterlife with me."<br />
And so he got his wife to promise him with all of her heart that when he died, she would put all of the money in the casket with him.<br />
<br />
Well, he died. He was stretched out in the casket; his wife was sitting there in black, and her friend was sitting next to her. When they finished the ceremony, just before the undertakers got ready to close the casket, the wife said, "Wait just a minute!"<br />
<br />
She had a box with her; she came over with the box and put it in the casket. Then the undertakers locked the casket down, and they rolled it away.<br />
<br />
Her friend said, "I know you weren't fool enough to put all that money in there with your husband."<br />
The loyal wife replied "Listen, I'm a Christian; I can't go back on my word. I promised him that I was going to put that money in that casket with him."<br />
<br />
"You mean to tell me you put that money in the casket with him!!!!?"<br />
<br />
"I sure did" said the wife. "I got it all together, put it into my account and wrote him a cheque. If he can cash it, he can spend it."Fr. Randolf C. Flores, SVDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08771037051164590228noreply@blogger.com0