Ever  wonder what  would  happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phone, or at least used it as much?

• What  if we carried it around in our purses or  pockets?
• What  if we flipped through it several time a  day?
• What  if we turned back to go get it if we forgot  it?
• What  if we used it to receive messages from the  text?
• What  if we treated it like we couldn’t live without  it?
• What  if we gave it to Kids as  gifts?
• What  if we used it when we  traveled?
• What  if we used it in case of  emergency?

Oh,  and  one more thing. Unlike our cell phone, we don’t have to worry about our Bible being  disconnected because Jesus already paid the  bill.

• Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
• Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
• Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.
• Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer prize.
• Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
• Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.

How did you do? The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners. Here’s another quiz. See how you do on this one:

• List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
• Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
• Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
• Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
• Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
• Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.

Easier? The lesson? The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.

This poem appeared when an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a hospital near Dundee, Scotland. It was felt that she had left nothing of value. Then the nurses, going through her possessions, found this poem. Its quality 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 Poem…

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 use 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 secure a 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 vigor 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, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabby old woman; look closer–see ME!!