I love you unconditionally.

                              I love you, good or bad, with no strings attached.

                              I love you like this because I know all about you.

                              I have known you ever since you were a child.

                              I know what I can do for you.

                              I know what I want to do for you.

                              I accept you just as you are.

                              You don't need to change yourself.

                              I'll do the changing when you are ready.

                              I love you just as you are.

                              Believe this---for I assure you it is true.

                              I care about every big or little thing which happens

                              to you. Believe this.

                              I care enough to do something about it.

                              Remember this.

                              I will help you when you need me. Ask me.

                              I love you.

                              I accept you.

                              I care about you.

                              I forgive you, and my forgiveness is complete.

                              Not like humans who forgive but cannot forget.

                              I love you. My arms are open with love.

                              Please come here! Come here to Me!

                              I forgive you!

                              Do not carry your guilt another moment.

                              I carried it all for you on the cross.

                              Believe this. It is true.

      The sound of Martha's voice on the other end of the telephone always brought a smile to Brother Jim's face. She was not only one of the oldest members of the congregation, but one of the most faithful. Aunt Martie, as all of the children called her, just seemed to ooze faith, hope, and love wherever she went. This time, however, there seemed to be an unusual tone to her words. "Preacher, could you stop by this afternoon? I need to talk with you."

      "Of course, I'll be there around three. Is that ok?"

      It didn't take long for Jim to discover the reason for what he had only sensed in her voice before. As they sat facing each other in the quiet of her small living room, Martha shared the news that her doctor had just discovered a previously undetected tumor. "He says I probably have six months to live". Martha's words were naturally serious, yet there was a definite calm about her.

      "I'm so sorry to...," but before Jim could finish, Martha interrupted.

      "Don't be. The Lord has been good. I have lived a long life. I'm ready to go. You know that."

      "I know," Jim whispered with a reassuring nod.

      "But I do want to talk with you about my funeral. I have been thinking about it, and there are things that I know I want."

      The two talked quietly for a long time. They talked about Martha's favorite hymns, the passages of Scripture that had meant so much to her through the years, and the many memories they shared from the five years Jim had been with Central Church. When it seemed that they had covered just about everything, Aunt Martie paused, looked up at Jim with a twinkle in her eye, and then added, "One more thing, Preacher... When they bury me, I want my old Bible in one hand and a fork in the other."

      "A fork?" Jim was sure he had heard everything, but this caught him by surprise. "Why do you want to be buried with a fork?"

      "I have been thinking about all of the church dinners and banquets that I attended through the years," she explained. "I couldn't begin to count them all, but one thing sticks in my mind... At those really nice get-togethers, when the meal was almost finished, a server or maybe the hostess would come by to collect the dirty dishes. I can hear the words now. Sometimes, at the best ones, somebody would lean over my shoulder and whisper, 'You can keep your fork.' And do you know what that meant? Dessert was coming! It didn't mean a cup of Jell-O or pudding or even a dish of ice cream. You don't need a fork for that. It meant the good stuff, like chocolate cake or cherry pie! When they told me I could keep my fork, I knew the best was yet to come!

      "That's exactly what I want people to talk about at my funeral. Oh, they can talk about all the good times we had together. That would be nice... But when they walk by my casket and look at my pretty blue dress, I want them to turn to one another and say, 'Why the fork?' That's when I want you to tell them, that I kept my fork because the best is yet to come!"

                        written by Bill Insley

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of his friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the second with ears,
  but he said that what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth,
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars, the house, the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard,
are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at "mid-dash" already.)

If we could just slow down enough to consider
what's true and what's real,
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And...be less quick to anger,
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
with your life's actions to rehash...
 would you be pleased with the things they have
to say about how you spent your dash?>

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