St. Peter becomes aware of a man standing outside the Gates of Heaven, pacing up and down. "Excuse me, can I help you?" he asks.

"No, it's all right. It won't be long" and he distractedly looks at his watch, shrugs and paces on. 

St. Peter gives it another 5 minutes and asks again. 

The man stops and says, "Look, you know I'm dead. I know I'm dead. Will someone please tell the cardiac arrest team?"

*Directions to Our Father's House*

Make a Right onto "Believing Blvd."

Keep straight and go through the Green Light, which is Jesus Christ.

From there, you must turn onto the "Bridge of Faith," which is over troubled water.

Thanks to Kim Harding for day's real life laugh from her family.

Dear Pastor Tim,

This is a true story, My husband's grandmother passed away and for many months afterwards my father-in-law made repeated phone calls to attempt to stop a company from sending mail to the house for his deceased mother.

In frustration, he finally filled out a change of address card changing her address to the Jefferson Memorial Park where she was laid to rest.

It worked! No more mailings came to the house.

Tiny, helpless
swaddled in hay
washed, clothed, fed
carried each day.

Poverty, heat
occupied land
Romans, cruel Herod
Palestine sand.

Mom, God's so neat, and heaven's supposed to be so great. Could me and Michael go there Saturday for a sleep-over?

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Our seven-year-old daughter, Clarisa, was not really excited about going to Sunday school, but her little friend talked her into it. After the first class, at lunch, she said, "I like my teacher, and she said if I come to Sunday school every Sunday, she'll show me how I can get a free trip to heaven."