Does God Exist???
This is one of the best explanations of why God allows pain and suffering that I have seen. It’s an explanation other people will understand.
A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed.
Barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation.
They talked about so many things and various subjects. When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber said: "I don’t believe that God exists."
Why do you say that?" asked the customer
"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn’t exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can’t imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things."
The customer thought for a moment, but didn’t respond because he didn’t want to start an argument.
The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbers shop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair & an un trimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt.
The customer turned back and entered the barbershop again and he said to the barber:
"You know what? Barbers do not exist."
"How can you say that?" asked the surprised barber."I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!"
"No!" the customer exclaimed.
"Barbers don’t exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards like that man outside."
"Ah, but barbers DO exist! What happens is, people do not come to me."
"Exactly!" affirmed the customer. "That’s the point!
God, too, DOES exist! What happens, is, people don’t go to Him and do not look for Him. That’s why there’s so much pain and suffering in the
world."
Iranian Ninjas – Iran
Valentines Day
And every time February 14th approaches, I think of Imam Khomeini ……
Imam’s wife would say, "I was never woken up by Imam praying Salatul Layl because he would never switch on the room light. When he would go to do wudhoo, he would place a sponge in the sink under the tap so that the sound of the falling water would not wake me."
Agha always offered me the better place in the room. He would not start
eating until I came to the dinner table. He would also tell the children:
‘Wait until Maa comes.’
He was not even willing that I should work in the house. He would always
tell me: ‘Don’t sweep.’ If I wanted to wash the children’s clothes at the
pond, he would come and say: “Get up, you shouldn’t be washing.”
On the whole, I have to say that Imam did not consider sweeping, washing
dishes and even washing my children’s clothes as part of my responsibilities. If out of necessity I sometimes did these, he would get
upset considering them as a type of unjust dealing towards me. Even when I entered the room, he would never say: ‘Close the door behind
you,’ but waited till I sat down and then would himself get up and shut the door.
His daughter Siddika says: My father had an extraordinary respect for my
mother. In the period of 60 years of living together, he did not even reach
for food (on the dinner table) before his wife, nor did he have even the
smallest expectation from her. I can even say that in the period of 60
years of living together, at no time did he even ask for a glass of water,
but would always get it himself.
He behaved this way not only with his wife but also with all of us who were
his daughters. If he ever wanted water we would all enthusiastically run to
get it, but he never wanted us to bring and give him a glass of water in his hand.
During the difficult last days of his life, each time he would open his
eyes, if he was capable of speaking, he would ask: ‘How is Khanom?’ We
would reply: ‘She is good. Shall we tell her to come to you?’ He would
answer: ‘No, her back is hurting. Let her rest.’
Here is one of the letters he wrote to her:
To my beloved wife,
O’ I die for you. I have always remembered you when you – the light of my eyes and strength of my soul- have been away from me. Your pretty face is shining in my heart like in a mirror…..
I really miss you her in Beirut. You can find a lot of beautiful places to visit in the city and at the sea. What a pity that my dearest is not with me……
This has been a good journey so far trip but you are really and truly missed. I miss our son, Seyyed Mustafa. I pray that God will protect you both.
I love you so much.
Duas & Salaams
Ruhullah Khomeini
A Crabby Old Woman
A Crabby Old Woman
When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through her meagre possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet:
Crabby Old Woman
What do you see, nurses ? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old woman, Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, With faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you’d try!"
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe?
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse; YOU’RE NOT LOOKING AT ME.
I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet.
A bride soon at twenty - My heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn
At fifty once more, Babies play ’round my knee,
Again we know children – My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, My husband is dead,
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own ,
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old woman and nature is cruel;
‘Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, Grace and vigour depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass A young girl still dwells,
And now and again, My battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m loving and living life over again.
I think of the years – All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people, Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman; Look closer….see, ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within…..we will all, one day, be there, too!
Saying Grace In A Restaurant – Priceless!
**Sometimes we forget* *the really important things in life.*
Last week, I took my grand-children to a restaurant.
My six-year-old grand-son asked if he could say grace. As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good, God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Nana gets us ice cream for dessert. And liberty and justice for all! Amen!"
Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark, "That’s what’s wrong with this country. Kids today don’t even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!"
Hearing this, my grand-son burst into tears and asked me, "Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?"
As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job, and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table..
He winked at my grand-son and said, "I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer."
"Really?" my grand-son asked.
"Cross my heart," the man replied.
Then, in a theatrical whisper, he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream.
A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."
Naturally, I bought my grand-children ice cream at the end of the meal.
My grand-son stared at his for a moment, and then did something I will remember the rest of my life.
He picked up his sundae and, without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, "Here, this is for you.
Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good already."**
**The End
I love this story!
Please keep it moving.
Sometimes, we all need some ice cream.*
**I hope God sends you some ice cream today*****
Do You React Or Respond..
At a restaurant, a cockroach suddenly flew from somewhere and sat on a lady.
She started screaming out of fear.
With a panic stricken face and trembling voice, she started jumping, with both her hands desperately trying to get rid of the cockroach. Her reaction was contagious, as everyone in her group also got panicky.
The lady finally managed to push the cockroach away but it landed on another lady in the group.
Now, it was the turn of the other lady in the group to continue the drama.
The waiter rushed forward to their rescue.
In the relay of throwing, the cockroach next fell upon the waiter.
The waiter stood firm, composed himself and observed the behaviour of the cockroach on his shirt.
When he was confident enough, he grabbed it with his fingers and threw it out of the restaurant.
Sipping my coffee and watching the amusement, the antenna of my mind picked up a few thoughts and started wondering, was the cockroach responsible for their histrionic behaviour?
If so, then why was the waiter not disturbed?
He handled it near to perfection, without any chaos.
It is not the cockroach, but the inability of the ladies to handle the disturbance caused by the cockroach that disturbed the ladies.
I realized that, it is not the shouting of my father or my boss or my wife that disturbs me, but it’s my inability to handle the disturbances caused by their shouting that disturbs me.
It’s not the traffic jams on the road that disturbs me, but my inability to handle the disturbance caused by the traffic jam that disturbs me.
More than the problem, it’s my reaction to the problem that creates chaos in my life.
Lessons learnt from the story:
The women reacted, whereas the waiter responded.
I understood, I should not react in life…
I should always respond.
Reactions are always instinctive whereas responses are always well thought of, just and right to save a situation from going out of hands, to avoid cracks in relationship, to avoid taking decisions in anger, anxiety, stress or hurry.
And indeed this is the test – do you react or respond?
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