<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929</id><updated>2008-11-16T20:20:42.707-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice</title><subtitle type='html'>A collection of the "nice" Email messages forwarded by family and friends.</subtitle><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/'/><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.vodall.com/blog/webnice.xml'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113475674594937935</id><published>2005-12-16T10:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T10:12:25.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Always believe in MIRACLES!!</title><summary type='text'>Always believe in    MIRACLES!!   

Three years ago, a little boy    and his grandmother came to
see Santa at Mayfair Mall in    Wisconsin. The child climbed
up on his lap, holding a    picture of a little girl. "Who
is this?" asked    Santa, smiling. "Your friend? Your
sister?"

"Yes, Santa," he replied. "My    sister, Sarah, who is very
sick," he said    sadly.   

Santa glanced over at the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113475674594937935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113475674594937935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113475674594937935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113475674594937935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/12/always-believe-in-miracles.html' title='Always believe in MIRACLES!!'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113442456533131060</id><published>2005-12-12T13:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-12T13:56:05.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Angels Are Busy</title><summary type='text'>This is a good example for all of us.

----

I was  driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado  Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and die - I barely managed to  coast, cruising  into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would  have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck.  It wouldn't even turn  over.  Before I</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113442456533131060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113442456533131060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113442456533131060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113442456533131060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/12/angels-are-busy.html' title='The Angels Are Busy'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113355616428482537</id><published>2005-12-02T12:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-02T12:42:44.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Concert</title><summary type='text'>When                the house lights dimmed and the                concert                                                            was                about to begin, the mother returned                to                                                            her                seat and discovered that the child                was missing

Suddenly, the curtains                parted and</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113355616428482537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113355616428482537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113355616428482537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113355616428482537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/12/concert.html' title='The Concert'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113330186365063057</id><published>2005-11-29T14:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T14:04:23.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Service</title><summary type='text'>One Sunday  morning, the pastor noticed little Alex standing in the  
foyer of the  church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names with small  American flags mounted on either side of  it.

The 7-year-old  had been staring at the plaque for some time.     So the  pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said     quietly,  "Good morning, Alex."

"Good morning  Pastor," he</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113330186365063057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113330186365063057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113330186365063057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113330186365063057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/11/service.html' title='Service'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113279029771950193</id><published>2005-11-23T15:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T15:58:17.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yellow Roses and T-Bones</title><summary type='text'>                            I walked into the grocery store not        particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn't hungry. The        pain of losing my husband of 7 years was still too raw. And this        grocery store held so many sweet memories.

He often        came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and        look for something special. I knew what he was up to. </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113279029771950193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113279029771950193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113279029771950193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113279029771950193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/11/yellow-roses-and-t-bones.html' title='Yellow Roses and T-Bones'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113198960782929050</id><published>2005-11-14T09:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T09:33:27.846-08:00</updated><title type='text'>They Said What</title><summary type='text'>PAY SPECIAL ATTENTION TO THE                WORDING AND SPELLING. IF YOU KNOW THE BIBLE EVEN A LITTLE, YOU'LL                FIND THIS HILARIOUS!  IT COMES FROM A CATHOLIC ELEMENTARY                SCHOOL TEST. KIDS WERE ASKED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE OLD AND NEW                TESTAMENTS. THE FOLLOWING STATEMENTS ABOUT THE BIBLE WERE WRITTEN                BY CHILDREN. THEY HAVE NOT BEEN RETOUCHED OR</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113198960782929050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113198960782929050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113198960782929050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113198960782929050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/11/they-said-what.html' title='They Said What'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113091127937861374</id><published>2005-11-01T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-01T22:01:19.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Do It</title><summary type='text'>

Too many  people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought  about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too  rigid to depart from their routine.    What about  all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful  night in an effort to cut back? 

How often have your kids  dropped in to talk and sat in silence</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113091127937861374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113091127937861374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113091127937861374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113091127937861374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/11/just-do-it.html' title='Just Do It'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-113038636187973692</id><published>2005-10-26T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-26T21:12:41.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Innocence</title><summary type='text'>These have to be original and genuine - no adult is this creative!!

JACK (age 3) was watching his Mom breast-feeding his new baby
sister. After a while he asked: "Mom why have you got two? Is one for
hot and one for cold milk?"

MELANIE (age 5) asked her Granny how old she was. Granny replied she
was so old she didn't remember any more. Melanie said, "If you don't
remember you must look in the </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/113038636187973692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=113038636187973692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113038636187973692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/113038636187973692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/10/innocence.html' title='Innocence'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-112967659742627565</id><published>2005-10-18T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T16:03:17.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MY  SON</title><summary type='text'>

This is great, take a moment to read it, it will make your day!


The ending will surprise you.

Take my Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works
of art. They had everything in their collection, from
Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and
admire the great works of art.

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to
war. He was very courageous and died in </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/112967659742627565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=112967659742627565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/112967659742627565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/112967659742627565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/10/my-son.html' title='MY  SON'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-111058419707535476</id><published>2005-03-11T15:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-11T15:36:43.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE POWER OF PRAYER</title><summary type='text'>After starting a new diet, I altered my drive to work to avoid passing my favorite bakery.

I accidentally drove by the bakery this morning and there in the window was a host of goodies. I felt this was no accident, so I prayed, "Lord, it's up to you... if you want me to have any of those delicious goodies, create a parking place for me directly in front of the bakery."

And sure enough, He </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/111058419707535476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=111058419707535476' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/111058419707535476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/111058419707535476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/03/power-of-prayer.html' title='THE POWER OF PRAYER'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-111048571355055577</id><published>2005-03-10T12:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-10T12:15:13.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God Forgive Me When I Whine</title><summary type='text'>Today, upon a bus, I saw a girl with golden hair. and wished I was as
fair. When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one leg and wore a crutch. But as she passed, she gave a smile.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine. I have 2 legs, the world is mine.

I stopped to buy some candy. The lad who sold it had such charm. I talked
with him, he seemed so glad. If I were </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/111048571355055577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=111048571355055577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/111048571355055577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/111048571355055577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/03/god-forgive-me-when-i-whine.html' title='God Forgive Me When I Whine'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-111034864407089566</id><published>2005-03-08T21:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-08T22:10:44.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven - Who's There?</title><summary type='text'>I was shocked, confused, bewildered
as I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
by the lights or its decor.
But it was the folks in Heaven
who made me sputter and gasp--
the thieves, the liars, the sinners,
the alcoholics, the trash.
There stood the kid from seventh grade
who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
who never said anything nice.
Herb, who I always</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/111034864407089566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=111034864407089566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/111034864407089566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/111034864407089566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/03/heaven-whos-there.html' title='Heaven - Who&apos;s There?'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-110539096483174330</id><published>2005-01-10T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T13:02:44.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Pledge of Allegiance!</title><summary type='text'>Since the Pledge of Allegiance

and

The Lord's Prayer

are not allowed in most public schools anymore

Because the word "God" is mentioned....

A kid in Arizona wrote the attached NEW School Prayer.



Now I sit me down in school
Where praying is against the rule
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.

If Scripture now the class recites,
It violates </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/110539096483174330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=110539096483174330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110539096483174330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110539096483174330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2005/01/new-pledge-of-allegiance.html' title='New Pledge of Allegiance!'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-110262029482250715</id><published>2004-12-09T11:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-09T11:24:54.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER </title><summary type='text'>Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.

It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/110262029482250715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=110262029482250715' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110262029482250715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110262029482250715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2004/12/christmas-to-remember.html' title='A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER '/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-110237160055861101</id><published>2004-12-06T14:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-06T14:20:00.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons From Noah's Ark</title><summary type='text'>Everything I need to know, I learned from Noah's Ark.

ONE: Don't miss the boat.

TWO: Remember that we are all in the same boat.

THREE: Plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the Ark.

FOUR: Stay fit. When you're 60 years old, someone may ask you to do something really big.

FIVE: Don't listen to critics; just get on with the job that needs to be done.

SIX: Build your future</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/110237160055861101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=110237160055861101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110237160055861101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110237160055861101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2004/12/lessons-from-noahs-ark.html' title='Lessons From Noah&apos;s Ark'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9492929.post-110236902225100730</id><published>2004-12-06T13:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-06T13:40:15.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice New Blog</title><summary type='text'>I receive many Email forwards containing stories either spiritual or simply refreshing. This blog will be a place to collect and archive those postings.

</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/110236902225100730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9492929&amp;postID=110236902225100730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110236902225100730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9492929/posts/default/110236902225100730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.vodall.com/nice/2004/12/nice-new-blog.html' title='Nice New Blog'/><author><name>Bill</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>