~PK’s Jokes~

Man Builds Noah’s Ark (exact scale given in Bible)

Working Replica of Noah’s Ark Opened In SCHAGEN, Netherlands . The
massive central door in the side of Noah’s Ark was opened the first
crowd of curious townsfolk to behold the wonder. Of course, it’s
only a replica of th e biblical Ark , built by Dutch Creationist
Johan Huibers as a testament to his faith in the literal truth of
the Bible.

The ark is 150 cubits long, 30 cubits high and 20 cubits wide.
That’s two-thirds the length of a football field and as high as a
three-story house. Life-size models of giraffes, elephants, lions,
crocodiles, zebras, bison and other animals greet visitors as they
arrive in the main hold. A contractor by trad e, Huibers built the
ark of cedar and pine. Biblical Scholars debate exactly what the
wood used by Noah would have been.

Huibers did the work mostly with his own hands, using modern tools
and with occasional help from his son Roy. Construction began in
May 2005. On the uncovered top deck - not quite ready in time for
the opening - will come a petting zoo, with baby lambs and
chickens, and goats, and one camel.

Visitors on the first day were stunned. ‘It’s past comprehension’,
said Mary Louise Starosciak, who happened to be bicycling by with
her husband while on vacation when they saw the ark looming over
the local landscape.

‘I knew the story of Noah, but I had no idea the boat would have
been so big.’ There is enough space near the keel for a 50-seat
film theater where kids can watch a video that tells the story of
Noah and his ark.

Huibers, a Christian man, said he hopes the
project will renew interest in Christianity in the Netherlands ,
where church going has fallen dramatically in the past 50 years.

Now that I am old and gray…give me the time to tell this new
generation (and their children too) about all your mighty miracles. Psalm 71:18

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents’ bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as
they were dropped into the jar . They landed with a merry jingle when
the jar was almost empty.  Then the tones gradually muted to a dull
thud as the jar was filled.

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper
and silver circles that glinted like a pirate’s treasure when the sun
poured through the bedroom window.  When the jar was filled, Dad would
sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the
bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production   Stacked
neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and
me on the seat of his old truck.

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me
hopefully.  ’Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill,
son. You’re going to do better than me.  This old mill town’s not
going
to hold you back.’

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across
the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly
‘These are for my son’s college fund. He’ll never work at the mill
all his life like me.’

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream
cone.  I always got chocolate.  Dad always got vanilla.  When the clerk
at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few
coins nestled in his palm.  ’When we get home, we’ll start filling the
jar again.’

He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar.
As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each
other.  ’You’ll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and
quarters,’ he said.  ’But you’ll get there; I’ll see to
that.’

No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop
his coins into the jar.  Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the
mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a
single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup
over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined
than ever to make a way out for me.  ’When you finish college, Son,’
he told me, his eyes glistening, ‘You’ll never have to eat beans again -
unless you want to.’

The years passed, and I finished college and t ook a job in another
town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone i n their
bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone.  It had served its
purpose and had been removed.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser
where the jar had always stood.  My dad was a man of few words, and
never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and
faith.

The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than
the most flowery of words could have done.  When I married, I told my
wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played
in my life as a boy.  In my mind, it defined, more than anything else,
how much my dad had loved me.

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the
holiday with my parents.  After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each
other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild.
Jessica be gan to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad’s ar ms.
‘She probably needs to be changed,’ she said, carrying the baby into my
parents’ bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living
room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.

She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me
into the room.  ’Look,’ she said softly, her eyes directing me to a
spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it
had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already
covered with coins.  I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my
pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins.  With a gamut of emotions
choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar.  I looked up and saw that
Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes
locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one
of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart.  I know it has yours as well. Somet imes we
are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our

Never underestimate the power of your actions.  With one small gesture
you can change a person’s life, for better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other’s lives to impact one another in some
way. Look for Good in others.

The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they
must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller
-       Happy moments, praise God.
-       Difficult moments, seek God.
-       Quiet moments, worship God..
-       Painful moments, trust God.
-       Every moment, thank God.

A minister passing through his church
in the middle of the day,

Decided to pause by the altar
and see who had come to pray.

Just then the back door opened,
a man came down the aisle,

The minister frowned as he saw
the man hadn’t shaved in a while.

His shirt was kind a shabby
and his coat was worn and frayed,

the man knelt, he bowed his head,
Then rose and walked away.

In the days that followed,
each noon time came this chap,

each time he knelt just for a moment,
A lunch pail in his lap.

Well, the minister’s suspicions grew,
with robbery a main fear,

He decided to stop the man and ask him,
‘What are you doing here?’

The old man said, he worked down the road.
Lunch was half an hour.

Lunchtime was his prayer time,
For finding strength and power.

‘I stay only moments, see,
because the factory is so far away;

as I kneel here talking to the Lord,
This is kind a what I say:

‘I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,

HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP

AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,

BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.

SO, JESUS, THIS IS JIM

CHECKING IN TODAY.’

The minister feeling foolish,
told Jim, that was fine.

He told the man he was welcome
To come and pray just anytime.

Time to go, Jim smiled, said ‘Thanks.’
He hurried to the door.

The minister knelt at the altar,
he’d never done it before.

His cold heart melted, warmed with love,
and met with Jesus there.

As the tears flowed, in his heart,
he repeated old Jim’s prayer:

‘I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,

HOW HAPPY I’VE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER’S FRIENDSHIP

AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.

I DON’T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT

I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.

SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME CHECKING IN TODAY’

Past noon one day, the minister noticed
that old Jim hadn’t come.

As more days passed without Jim,
he began to worry some.

At the factory, he asked about him,
learning he was ill.

The hospital staff was worried,
But he’d given them a thrill.

The week that Jim was with them,
Brought changes in the ward.

His smiles, a joy contagious.
Changed people, were his reward.

The head nurse couldn’t understand
why Jim was so glad,

when no flowers, calls or cards came,
Not a visitor he had.

The minister stayed by his bed,
He voiced the nurse’s concern:

No friends came to show they cared.
He had nowhere to turn.

Looking surprised, old Jim spoke
up and with a winsome smile;

‘the nurse is wrong, she couldn’t know,
that in here all the while

everyday at noon He’s here,
a dear friend of mine, you see,

He sits right down, takes my hand,
Leans over and says to me:’

I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, JIM,

HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,

SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP,

AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN.

ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY,
I THINK ABOUT YOU EACH DAY,
AND SO JIM, THIS IS JESUS

CHECKING IN TODAY.

If this blesses you, pass it on
Many people will walk in and out of your life,

but only true friends will leave
footprints in your heart.

May God hold you in the palm of His hand
and Angels watch over you.

But for those of us who are already His, He not
only h olds us in the palm of His hand, but has
engraved our names there, and we are continually
in His sight (Isaiah 49:16)

Please pass this page on to your friends & loved ones.
If you aren’t ashamed.

Jesus said, ‘ If you are ashamed of me,’ I will be ashamed
of you before my Father.’

If you are not ashamed, pass this on. But only if you mean it..

Yes, I do love God. He is my source of existence and Savior.

He keeps me functioning each and everyday. Without Him, I
will be nothing. Without him, I am nothing but with Him ‘I can
do all things through Christ that strengthens me.’ Phil 4:13

This is too good not to share -

So this is me … Just Checking In