A while back an old, tired-looking dog wandered into the yard. I could tell from his collar (though no tags) and well-fed belly and the fact that he was clean that he had a home.
He followed me into the house, down the hall, and fell asleep on the sofa. My dogs didn’t seem to mind, and he seemed like a good dog, so I let him nap. An hour later he went to the door, and I let him out.
The next day the dog came back, resumed his position on the sofa, and slept for another hour. This continued for several weeks.
Curious, I pinned a note to his collar: “Every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap. I don’t mind but want to be sure it’s OK with you.”
The next day the dog arrived with a different note pinned to his collar: “He lives in a home with 10 children—he’s trying to catch up on his sleep. May I come with him tomorrow?”
Every year out cadets have a Pinewood Derby at our church. Each of the cadets designs his own car for the big night.
We live in Colorado and our son is a big Rockies fan. On his car he painted the “CR” Colorado Rockies’ symbol in purple.
As he was working on his car, another boy came over and exclaimed, “Wow! That’s cool you made a Christian Reformed car!”
The Sunday school teacher came to class one morning and said to one of the students, “Do you want to go to heaven?”
The student enthusiastically answered, “Of course I do.”
The teacher responded, “Then get up and stand in the front of the room.”
The teacher went on to the second student and asked the same question. When she received the same answer, she gave the same instruction, “Get up and stand in the front of the room.”
She approached the next student with the same question, “Do you want to go to heaven?”
“No, teacher, I don’t,” responded the student very forcefully.
The teacher was taken aback and in surprise questioned, “Do you actually expect me to believe that you don’t want to go to heaven when you die?”
The student replied, “When I die? Oh, of course. I thought you were getting a group together to go right now.”
—George Vander Weit
When we called to talk with our grandchildren, Kimeisha was pouting. “Don’t feel sorry for her,” said her mother. “She just punched her brother in the stomach.” So I changed the subject and asked Kimeisha what she had learned in Sunday school that day. She began to tell me the story of Noah and how all the bad people died in the flood. Suddenly she said, “Just a minute, Grandma, I have to go tell my brother I’m sorry.”
One Sunday morning I was brushing my 3-year-old daughter’s hair to get ready for church when she heard the neighborhood church bells ringing. She flew to the open window in her bedroom and shouted out, “Just a minute, Jesus, we’re coming!”
I felt as if my body had gotten totally out of shape. So, with my doctor’s permission, I joined a fitness club to get some regular exercise. I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour, only to discover that by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over.
—George Vander Weit