Sorry – the store is closed today because I am ill. Should be open tomorrow, Thursday at the latest, Lord willing. SO, no St. Patrick’s Day specials today. However, I will give you the next best thing: Seven wonderful Irish jokes, courtesy of Kevin Clement of the Hayden Chamber of Commerce. Hope you enjoy these!
NEGOTIATING WITH GOD
Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn’t find a parking place.
Looking up to heaven he said, “Lord take pity on me.If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish Whiskey!”
Miraculously, a parking place appeared.
Paddy looked up again and said, “Never mind, I found one.”
RECRUITING FOR GOD
Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and asks the first man he meets, “Do you want to go to heaven?”
The man said, “I do, Father.”
The priest said, “Then stand over there against the wall.” Then the priest asked the second man, “Do you want to go to heaven?”
“Certainly, Father,” the man replied.
“Then stand over there against the wall,” said the priest. Then Father Murphy walked up to O’Toole and asked, “Do you want to go to heaven?”
O’Toole said, “No, I don’t Father.”
The priest said, “I don’t believe this.You mean to tell me that when you die you don’t want to go to heaven?”
O’Toole said, “Oh, when I die, yes.I thought you were getting a group together to go right now.”
CATHOLIC CROSSWALK
Paddy was in New York. He was patiently waiting and watching the traffic cop on a busy street crossing.
The cop stopped the flow of traffic and shouted, “Okay, pedestrians.” Then he’d allow the traffic to pass.
He’d done this several times, and Paddy still stood on the sidewalk.
After the cop had shouted, “Pedestrians!” for the tenth time, Paddy went over to him and said, “Is it not about time ye let the Catholics across?”
THE NEWS OF MY DEATH
Gallagher opened the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read in the obituary column that he had died.
He quickly phoned his best friend, Finney. “Did you see the paper?” asked Gallagher. “They say I died!!”
“Yes, I saw it!” replied Finney.”Where are ye callin’ from?”
WATER TO WINE
An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut.
The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest’s breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car. He says, “Sir, have you been drinking?”
“Just water,” says the priest.
The trooper says, “Then why do I smell wine?”
The priest looks at the bottle and says, “Good Lord! He’s done it again!”
FIGHT WITH THE WIFE
Walking into the bar, Mike said to Charlie the bartender, “Pour me a stiff one – just had another fight with the little woman.”
“Oh yeah?” said Charlie, “And how did this one end?”
“When it was over,” Mike replied, “She came to me on her hands and knees.”
“Really,” said Charles, “Now that’s a switch! What did she say?”
She said, “Come out from under the bed, you little chicken.”
CAN’T HIDE THE EVIDENCE
Patton staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy.
He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Kathleen. He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump.
A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful. Managing not to yell, Patton sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding.
He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood. He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.
In the morning, Patton woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Kathleen staring at him from across the room.
She said, “You were drunk again last night weren’t you?”
Patton said, “Why you say such a mean thing?”
“Well,” Kathleen said, “it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly…..it’s all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.”
The Sparrow At Starbucks
Wednesday, January 27th, 2010It was chilly in Manhattan but warm inside the Starbucks shop on 51st Street and Broadway, just a skip up from Times Square. Early November weather in New York City holds only the slightest hint of the bitter chill of late December and January, but it’s enough to send the masses crowding indoors to vie for available space and warmth.
For a musician, it’s the most lucrative Starbucks location in the world, I’m told, and consequently, the tips can be substantial if you play your tunes right. Apparently, we were striking all the right chords that night, because our basket was almost overflowing.
It was a fun, low-pressure gig – I was playing keyboard and singing backup for my friend who also added rhythm with an arsenal of percussion instruments. We mostly did pop songs from the ’40s to the ’90s with a few original tunes thrown in. During our emotional rendition of the classic, “If You Don’t Know Me by Now,” I noticed a lady sitting in one of the lounge chairs across from me. She was swaying to the beat and singing along.
After the tune was over, she approached me. “I apologize for singing along on that song. Did it bother you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied. “We love it when the audience joins in. Would you like to sing up front on the next selection?”
To my delight, she accepted my invitation. “You choose,” I said. “What are you in the mood to sing?”
“Well, do you know any hymns?”
Hymns? This woman didn’t know who she was dealing with. I cut my teeth on hymns. Before I was even born, I was going to church. I gave our guest singer a knowing look, “Name one.”
“Oh, I don’t know. There are so many good ones. You pick one.”
“Okay,” I replied. “How about ‘His Eye is on the Sparrow’?”
My new friend was silent, her eyes averted. Then she fixed her eyes on mine again and said, “Yeah. Let’s do that one.”
She slowly nodded her head, put down her purse, straightened her jacket and faced the center of the shop. With my two-bar setup, she began to sing.
“Why should I be discouraged?
“Why should the shadows come?”
The audience of coffee drinkers was transfixed. Even the gurgling noises of the cappuccino machine ceased as the employees stopped what they were doing to listen. The song rose to its conclusion.
“I sing because I’m happy;
“I sing because I’m free.
“For His eye is on the sparrow
“And I know He watches me.”
When the last note was sung, the applause crescendoed to a deafening roar that would have rivaled a sold-out crowd at Carnegie Hall. Embarrassed, the woman tried to shout over the din, “Oh, y’all go back to your coffee! I didn’t come in here to do a concert! I just came in here to get somethin’ to drink, just like you!”
But the ovation continued and I embraced my new friend. “You, my dear, have made my whole year! That was beautiful!”
“Well, it’s funny that you picked that particular hymn,” she said.
“Why is that?”
“Well,” she hesitated again, “that was my daughter’s favorite song.”
“Really!” I exclaimed.
“Yes,” she said, grabbing my hands. By this time, the applause had subsided and it was business as usual. “She was 16. She died of a brain tumor last week.”
I said the first thing that found its way through my stunned silence: “Are you going to be okay?”
She smiled through tear-filled eyes and squeezed my hands. “I’m gonna be okay. I’ve just got to keep trusting the Lord and singing his songs, and everything’s gonna be just fine.” She picked up her bag, gave me her card, and then she was gone.
Was it just a coincidence that we happened to be singing in that particular coffee shop on that particular November night? Was it coincidence that this wonderful lady just happened to walk into that particular shop? Was it coincidence that of all the hymns to choose from, I just happened to pick the very hymn that was the favorite of her daughter, who had died just the week before? I refuse to believe it.
God has been arranging encounters in human history since the beginning of time, and it’s no stretch for me to imagine that he could reach into a coffee shop in midtown Manhattan and turn an ordinary gig into a revival. It was a great reminder that if we keep trusting him and singing his songs, everything’s gonna be okay.
The next time you feel like GOD can’t use YOU, just remember:
* Noah was a drunk
* Abraham was too old
* Isaac was a daydreamer
* Jacob was a liar
* Leah was ugly
* Joseph was abused
* Moses had a stuttering problem
* Gideon was afraid
* Sampson had long hair and was a womanizer
* Rahab was a prostitute
* Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
* David had an affair and was a murderer
* Elijah was suicidal
* Isaiah preached naked
* Jonah ran from God
* Naomi was a widow
* Job went bankrupt
* John the Baptist ate bugs
* Peter denied Christ
* The Disciples fell asleep while praying
* Martha worried about everything
* The Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once
* Zaccheus was too small
* Paul was too religious
* Timothy had an ulcer…AND
* Lazarus was dead!
God can use you to your full potential. Besides you aren’t the message, you are just the messenger. God bless.
[A friend sent this to me via email this morning. Every week our newsletter mentions our need to trust God and that His eye is on the sparrow. So we thought this appropriate to reproduce it here (and we don't think it is copyright).]
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