In January 2000, leaders in Charlotte, North Carolina, invited their favorite son, Billy Graham, to a luncheon in his honor.
One day a fisherman was lying on a beautiful beach, with his fishing pole propped up in the sand and his solitary line cast out into the sparkling blue surf.
Way down deep inside the West Virginia coal mines,
A lot of brave men is what you’ll find
Who risk their lives by night and day,
Take a look at these hands, Lord,
They’re worn and rough.
My face scarred with coal marks,
My language is tough.
But you know in the heart, Lord,
The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed with black thread, and snaps up the front.
Not terribly attractive, but utilitarian without a doubt.
“Very soon you will see a great many people wearing blue every Friday. The reason?
Last night was the last game for my eight-year-old son's soccer team. It was the final quarter. The score was two to one, my son's team in the lead.
Remember it takes a college degree to fly a plane but only a high school diploma to fix one.
Dear Mr. President,
Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.