Inspiritational Words

Here is a small collection of stories that gave me peace and allowed me to know that we are not alone, someone cares, and one person CAN make a difference. Hope you enjoy the stories and please feel free to comment or make suggestions. Have a blessed day and fun reading. ~Shannon~

Don't Underestimate the Power of Prayer:A True Story

Diane, a young university student, was home for the summer. She had gone to visit some friends one evening and time passed quickly as each shared their various experiences of the past year. She ended up staying longer than planned, and had to walk home alone. She wasn't afraid because it was a small town and she lived only a few blocks away. As she walked along under the tall elm trees, Diane asked "God" to keep her safe from harm and danger.

When she reached the alley, which was a short cut to her house, she decided to take it, however, halfway down the alley she noticed a man standing at the end as though he were waiting for her. She became uneasy and began to pray, asking for "God's" protection. Instantly a comforting feeling of quietness and security wrapped around her, she felt as though someone was walking with her. When she reached the end of the alley, she walked right past the man and arrived home safely.

The following day, she read in the newspaper that a young girl had been raped in the same alley, just twenty minutes after she had been there. Feeling overwhelmed by this tragedy and the fact that it could have been her, she began to weep. Thanking the Lord for her safety and to help this young woman, she decided to go to the police station. She felt she could recognize the man, so she told them her story. The police asked her if she would be willing to look at a lineup to see if she could identify him. She agreed and immediately pointed out the man she had seen in the alley the night before. When the man was told he had been identified, he immediately broke down and confessed. The officer thanked Diane for her bravery and asked if there was anything they could do for her. She asked if they would ask the man one question. Diane was curious as to why he had not attacked her. When the policeman asked him, he answered, "Because she wasn't alone. She had two tall men walking on either side of her."

Moral of the story... Don't underestimate the power of Prayer !

Her hair was up in a ponytail Her favorite dress tied with a bow. Today was Daddy's Day at school, And she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her, That she probably should stay home. Why the kids might not understand, If she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid; She knew just what to say. What to tell her classmates Of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried, For her to face this day alone. And that was why once again, She tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school, Eager to tell them all. About a dad she never sees A dad who never calls.

There were daddies along the wall in back, For everyone to meet. Children squirming impatiently, Anxious in their seats.

One by one the teacher called, A student from the class. To introduce their daddy, As seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name, Every child turned to stare. Each of them was searching, For a man who wasn't there.

"Where's her daddy at?" She heard a boy call out. "She probably doesn't have one," Another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back, She heard a daddy say, "Looks like another deadbeat dad, Too busy to waste his day."

The words did not offend her, As she smiled up at her Mom. And looked back at her teacher, Who told her to go on.

And with hands behind her back, Slowly she began to speak. And out from the mouth of a child, Came words incredibly unique.

"My Daddy couldn't be here, Because he lives so far away. But I know he wishes he could be, Since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know. All about my daddy, And how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories He taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses, And taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes, And ice cream in a cone. And though you cannot see him, I'm not standing here alone.

"Cause my daddy's always with me, Even though we are apart I know because he told me, He'll forever be in my heart"

With that, her little hand reached up, And lay across her chest. Feeling her own heartbeat, Beneath her favorite dress.

And from somewhere in the crowd of dads, Her mother stood in tears. Proudly watching her daughter, Who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love Of a man not in her life. Doing what was best for her, Doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down, Staring straight into the crowd. She finished with a voice so soft, But its message clear and loud.

"I love my daddy very much, He's my shining star. And if he could, he'd be here, But heaven's just too far.

You see he was a fireman And died just this past year When airplanes hit the towers And taught Americans to fear.

But sometimes when I close my eyes, It's like he never went away." And then she closed her eyes, And saw him there that day.

And to her mother's amazement, She witnessed with surprise. A room full of daddies and children, All starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them, Who knows what they felt inside. Perhaps for merely a second, They saw him at her side.

"I know you're with me Daddy," To the silence she called out. And what happened next made believers, Of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it, For each of their eyes had been closed. But there on the desk beside her, Was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.

And a child was blessed, if only for a moment, By the love of her shining bright star. And given the gift of believing, That heaven is never too far.

Our Father, who are in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever. Amen.

One person can make a difference (A True Story)!!!

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said she loved them all the same.

But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath.

And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last.

However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise . Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illiness and life at home must be a struggle.

His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death had been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

His fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."

By now, Mrs Thompson realized the problem and was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse wher her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents.

Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to." After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead she began to teach children.

Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded.

By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets."

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest honors. He assured Mrs Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer--the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard,M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he,d met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs.Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did.

And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. and she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr Stoddard whispered in Mrs Thompson's ears, "Thank you Mrs Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said."Teddy you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you." Warm someone's heart today.........pass this along. Please remember that wherever you go, and whatever you do, you will have the opportunity to touch and/or change a person's outlook. Please try to do it in a positive way.

Reach for the moon, if you miss, you will land among the stars.

A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan..." While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point. On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital. Upon arrival in the City, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time talked to him about the Lord. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.

Two weeks later I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines." He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards." "At this I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone in that jungle campsite." The young man pressed the point, however, and said, "No sir, I was not the only person to see the guards. My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them.

It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone." At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day this happened. The missionary told the congregation the date, and the man who interrupted told him this story: "On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong; I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?" The men who had met together to pray that day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were, he was too busy counting how many men he saw. There were 26.

This story is an incredible example of how the Spirit of the Lord moves in mysterious ways. If you ever hear such prodding, go along with it. Nothing is ever hurt by prayer except the gates of hell.

THOUGHTS FOR SPECIAL PEOPLE :-)

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied, "Things aren't always what they seem."

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest. When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears.Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field. The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel how could you have let this happen?

The first man had everything, yet you helped him, she accused. The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let the cow die. "Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied.

"When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it."

"Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead. "Things aren't always what they seem." Sometimes that is exactly what happens when things don't turn out the way they should. If you have faith, you just need to trust that every out come is always to your advantage. You might not know it until some time later...

May today there be peace within you. May you trust

God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

"I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift

us to our feet when our wings have trouble

remembering how to fly."

Why God Came As A Man

There was once a man who didn't believe in God, and he didn't hesitate to let others know how he felt about religion. His wife, however, did believe,and she also raised their children to have faith in God and Jesus, despite his disparaging comments.

One snowy Christmas Eve, his wife was taking their children to a Christmas Eve service in the farm community in which they lived. She asked him tocome, but he refused."That story is nonsense!" he said. "Why would God lower Himself to come to Earth as a man? That's ridiculous!" So she and the children left, and he stayed home. A while later, the winds grew stronger and the snow turned into a blizzard. As the man looked out the window, all he saw was a blinding snowstorm. He sat down to relax before the fire for the evening. Then he heard a loud thump. Something had hit the window. Then another thump. He looked out, but couldn't see more than a few feet.

When the snow let up a little, he ventured outside to see what could have been beating on his window.In the field near his house he saw a flock of wild geese. Apparently they had been flying south for the winter when they got caught in the snowstorm and couldn't go on. They were lost and stranded on his farm, with no food or shelter. They just flapped their wings and flew around the field in low circles, blindly and aimlessly. A couple of them had flown into his window,it seemed.The man felt sorry for the geese and wanted to help them. The barn would be a great place for them to stay, he thought. It's warm and safe; surely they could spend the night and wait out the storm. So he walked over to the barn and opened the doors wide, then watched and waited, hoping they would notice the open barn and go inside. But the geese just fluttered around aimlessly and didn't seem to notice the barn or realize what it could mean for them.The man tried to get their attention, but that just seemed to scare them and they moved further away. He went into the house and came with some bread, broke it up, and made a breadcrumb trail leading to the barn. They still didn't catch on. Now he was getting frustrated. He got behind them and tried to shoo them toward the barn, but they only got more scared and scattered in every direction except toward the barn. Nothing he did could get them to go intothe barn where they would be warm and safe. "Why don't they follow me?!" he exclaimed. "Can't they see this is the only place where they can survive the storm?" He thought for a moment and realized that they just wouldn't follow a human. "If only I were a goose, then I could save them," he said out loud.

Then he had an idea. He went into barn, got one of his own geese, and carried it in his arms as he circled around behind the flock of wild geese. He then released it. His goose flew through the flock and straight into the barn--and one by one the other geese followed it to safety. He stood silently for a moment as the words he had spoken a few minutes earlier replayed in his mind: "If only I were a goose, then I could save them!" Then he thought about what he had said to his wife earlier. "Why would God want to be like us? That's ridiculous!" Suddenly it all made sense. That is what God had done. We were like the geese--blind, lost, perishing. God had His Son to become like us so He could show us the way and save us. That was the meaning of the birth of Christ, he realized. As the winds and blinding snow died down, his soul became quiet and pondered this wonderful thought. Suddenly he understood why Christ cameas a man. Years of doubt and disbelief vanished like the passing storm. He fell to hisknees in the snow, and prayed his first prayer: "Thank You, God, for coming in human form to get me out of the storm!"

"All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his ownway; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." (Isaiah 53:6) "As it is written, there is none righteous, no, not one: there is none that understands, there is none that seeks after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that does good, no, not one." (Romans 3:10-12)"And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory,the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth."(John 1:14)"And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all mankind unto Myself. This He spoke concerning what manner of death He should die."(John 12:32,33).

Morale: God loves you & sent his Son to die for you so you could be a child of the Kingdom- If you're not saved or you need to re-dedicate your life to Christ, please read and say the prayer at the bottom of my homepage. If you pray that prayer & believe with all your heart and soul you shall be saved.

"The Wreck On Highway 109" by Ruth Gillis.

A drunk man in an Oldsmobile

they said had run the light

that caused the six-car pileup

on 109 that night.

When broken bodies lay about

and blood was everywhere,

the sirens screamed out elegies,

for death was in the air.

A mother, trapped inside her car,

was heard above the noise;

her plaintive plea near split the air:

"Oh, God, please spare my boys!"

She fought to loose her pinioned hands;

she struggled to get free,

but mangled metal held her fast

in grim captivity.

Her frightened eyes then focused on

where the back seat once had been,

but all she saw was broken glass

and two children’s seats crushed in.

Her twins were nowhere to be seen;

she did not hear them cry,

and then she prayed they’d been thrown free,

"Oh, God, don’t let them die!"

Then firemen came and cut her loose,

but when they searched the back,

they found therein no little boys,

but the seat belts were intact.

They thought the woman had gone mad

and was traveling alone,

but when they turned to question her,

they discovered she was gone.

Policemen saw her running wild

and screaming above the noise

in beseeching supplication,

"Please help me find my boys!

They’re four years old and wear blue shirts;

their jeans are blue to match."

One cop spoke up, "They’re in my car,

and they don’t have a scratch.

They said their daddy put them there

and gave them each a cone,

then told them both to wait for Mom

to come and take them home.

I’ve searched the area high and low,

but I can’t find their dad.

He must have fled the scene, I guess,

and that is very bad."

The mother hugged the twins and said,

while wiping at a tear,

"He could not flee the scene, you see,

for he’s been dead a year."

The cop just looked confused and asked,

"Now, how can that be true?"

The boys said, "Mommy, Daddy came

and left a kiss for you.

He told us not to worry

and that you would be all right,

and then he put us in this car

with the pretty, flashing light.

We wanted him to stay with us,

because we miss him so,

but Mommy, he just hugged us tight

and said he had to go.

He said someday we’d understand

and told us not to fuss,

and he said to tell you, Mommy,

he’s watching over us."

The mother knew without a doubt

that what they spoke was true,

for she recalled their dad’s last words,

"I will watch over you."

The firemen’s notes could not explain

the twisted, mangled car,

and how the three of them escaped

without a single scar.

But on the cop’s report was scribed,

in print so very fine,

An angel walked the beat tonight

on Highway 109.

Who will take the son? (This makes you think.)

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 Viet Nam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands. He said,"Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out his package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."

The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift."

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection. On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?" There was silence. Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."

But the auctioneer persisted, "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?" Another voice shouted angrily, "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!" But still the auctioneer continued, "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?" Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford. "We have $10, who will bid $20?""Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."

"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?" The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections. The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once,twice,SOLD for $10!"

A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!" The auctioneer laid down his gavel, "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets everything!"

God gave his Son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is,"The Son, the Son , who'll take the Son?" Because you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

The gift

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; Hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Erik continued to laugh and answer, "Hi, hi there." Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya pattycake? Do you know peek-a- boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-aboo."

Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skidrow bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. "Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck.

The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby." Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift." I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me." I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, "Are you willing to share your son for a moment?" when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children."

You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. Where she filled three pots with water. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil without saying a word. In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what do you see?"

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma.

The daughter then asked. "What's the point, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity--boiling water--but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and Does my shell look the same, but on the inside I am bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate to another level?

How do you handle Adversity?

A Miracle

Tess was a precocious eight year old when she heard her Mom and Dad talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very sick and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex next month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor's bills and our house.

Only a very costly surgery could save him now and it was looking like there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother with whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign abovethe door. She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise.

Nothing.

She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster.

No good.

Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages", he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick... and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said, softening a little.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay it, so I want to use my money".

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered barely audibly. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents exact price of a miracle for little brothers."

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place. "That surgery," her Mom whispered. "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?"

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents ...... plus the faith of a little child.

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law...... (A TRUE STORY)

"The Birdcage"

There once was a man named George Thomas, pastor in a small New England town. One Easter Sunday morning he came to the Church carrying a rusty, bent-up old bird cage, and set it by the pulpit. Eyebrows were raised and, as if in response, Pastor Thomas began to speak...

"I was walking through town yesterday when I saw a young boy coming toward me swinging this bird cage. On the bottom of the cage were three little wild birds, shivering with cold and fright. I stopped the lad and asked, "What you got there, son?" "Just some old birds," came the reply. "What are you gonna do with them?" I asked. Take 'em home and have fun with 'em," he answered. "I'm gonna tease 'em and pull out their feathers to make 'em fight. I'm gonna have a real good time." "But you'll get tired of those birds sooner or later. What will you do?" "Oh, I got some cats," said the little boy. "They like birds. I'll take'em to them."

The pastor was silent for a moment. "How much do you want for those birds, son?" "Huh? Why, you don't want them birds, mister. They're just plain old field birds. They don't sing. They ain't even pretty!"

"How much?" The pastor asked again.

The boy sized up the pastor as if he were crazy and said, "$10?"

The pastor reached in his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. He placed it in the boy's hand. In a flash, the boy was gone. The Pastor picked up the cage and gently carried it to the end of the alley where there was a tree and a grassy spot. Setting the cage down, he opened the door, and by softly tapping the bars persuaded the birds out, setting them free. Well, that explained the empty birdcage on the pulpit, and then the pastor began to tell this story.

One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just come from the Garden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting. "Yes, sir, I just caught the world full of people down there. Set me a trap, used bait I knew they couldn't resist. Got 'em all!"

"What are you going to do with them?" Jesus asked.

Satan replied, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun! I'm gonna teach them how to marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to drink and smoke and curse. I'm gonna teach them how to invent guns and bombs and kill each other. I'm really gonna have fun!"

"And what will you do when you get done with them?" Jesus asked.

"Oh, I'll kill 'em," Satan glared proudly.

"How much do you want for them?" Jesus asked.

"Oh, you don't want those people. They ain't no good. Why, you'll take them and they'll just hate you. They'll spit on you, curse you and kill you. You don't want those people!"

"How much? He asked again.

Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, "All your blood, tears and your life."

Jesus said, "DONE!" Then He paid the price.

The pastor picked up the cage. He opened the door and he walked from the pulpit.

"The Trouble Tree"

I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and after he had just finished a rough first day on the job, a flat tire made him lose an hour of work & his electric drill quit, then his ancient one ton truck refused to start. As I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.

On arriving he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands. Upon opening the door he had undergone an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do at the little tree.

"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home and ask God to take care of them. Then in the morning I pick them up again." Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

A Poem in honor of the victims of 9-11-01

TWO THOUSAND ONE, NINE ELEVEN

Two thousand one, nine eleven

Five thousand plus arrive in heaven

As they pass through the gate,

Thousands more appear in wait

A bearded man with stovepipe hat

Steps forward saying, "Lets sit, lets chat"

They settle down in seats of clouds

A man named Martin shouts out proud

"I have a dream!" and once he did

The Newcomer said, "Your dream still lives."

Groups of soldiers in blue and gray

Others in khaki, and green then say

"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine"

The Newcomer said, "You died not in vain."

From a man on sticks one could hear

"The only thing we have to fear.

The Newcomer said, "We know the rest,

trust us sir, we've passed that test."

"Courage doesn't hide in caves

You can't bury freedom, in a grave,"

The Newcomers had heard this voice before

A distinct Yankees twang from Hyannisport shores

A silence fell within the mist

Somehow the Newcomer knew that this

Meant time had come for her to say

What was in the hearts of the five thousand plus that day

"Back on Earth, we wrote reports,

Watched our children play in sports

Worked our gardens, sang our songs

Went to church and clipped coupons

We smiled, we laughed, we cried, we fought

Unlike you, great we're not"

The tall man in the stovepipe hat

Stood and said, "don't talk like that!

Look at your country, look and see

You died for freedom, just like me"

Then, before them all appeared a scene

Of rubbled streets and twisted beams

Death, destruction, smoke and dust

And people working just 'cause they must

Hauling ash, lifting stones,

Knee deep in hell, but not alone

"Look! Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman

Side by side helping their fellow man!"

So said Martin, as he watched the scene

"Even from nightmares, can be born a dream."

Down below three firemen raised

The colors high into ashen haze

The soldiers above had seen it before

On Iwo Jima back in '44

The man on sticks studied everything closely

Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly

"I see pain, I see tears,

I see sorrow - but I don't see fear."

"You left behind husbands and wives

Daughters and sons and so many lives

are suffering now because of this wrong

But look very closely. You're not really gone.

All of those people, even those who've never met you

All of their lives, they'll never forget you

Don't you see what has happened?

Don't you see what you've done?

You've brought them together, together as one.

With that the man in the stovepipe hat said

"Take my hand," and from there he led

five thousand plus heroes, Newcomers to heaven

On this day, two thousand one, nine eleven

"The Nature of God"

A group of women were studying the Book of Malachi. They came to verse three of chapter three, which says, "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." This verse puzzled the women. They wondered what they could learn from it about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and report back to the group at their next Bible study.

She phoned a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest other than her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched, the silversmith held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that he needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire, where the flames are hottest, in order to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us where the "flames" are hottest. She remembered that the verse says He "sits" as a refiner and purifier of silver, so she asked the silversmith if it's true that he has to sit by the fire the whole time the silver is being refined. The man answered that, yes, he not only has to sit there holding the silver, but he must keep his eyes on it the entire time because if it is left even a moment too long in the flames, it will be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?" He smiled at her and said, "Oh, that's easy-when I can see my image in it."

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God will not take His eyes off you, nor will He leave you there a moment too long.

He is nearby, watching you carefully . . . waiting to see His image in you.

My Quilt

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls.

Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles. An Angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life. But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.

My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth.

The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and death, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.

I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light.An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes.

Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you."

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through.

Please share this with someone you love, care about or even someone who needs Jesus in their heart. They may scoff, but at least the seed has been planted, and God will do the rest. May God bless you today and Forever.

THE CAB RIDE

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.

But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. Just a minute, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

Would you carry my bag out to the car? she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

It's nothing, I told her. I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.

Oh, you're such a good boy, she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, Could you drive through downtown?

It's not the shortest way, I answered quickly.

Oh, I don't mind, she said. I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice. I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. I don't have any family left, she continued. The doctor says I don't have very long.

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. What route would you like me to take? I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, I'm tired. Let's go now. We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

How much do I owe you? she asked, reaching into her purse. Nothing, I said.

You have to make a living, she answered.

There are other passengers, I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

You gave an old woman a little moment of joy, she said. Thank you.

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT `YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, ~BUT ~ THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

The Lord's prayer

Our Father who art in heaven.

YES?

Don't interrupt me. I'm praying.

BUT -- YOU CALLED ME.

Called you? No, I didn't call you. I'm praying.

Our Father who art in heaven.

THERE -- YOU DID IT AGAIN.

Did what?

CALLED ME. YOU SAID, "OUR FATHER, WHO ART IN HEAVEN." WELL, HERE I AM WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND?

But, I didn't mean anything by it. I was, you know, just saying my prayers for the day. I always say the Lord's Prayer. It makes me feel good, kind of like fulfilling a duty.

WELL, ALL RIGHT. GO ON.

Okay, Hallowed be Thy name...

HOLD IT RIGHT THERE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?

By what?

BY "HALLOWED BE THY NAME"?

It means, it means ... good grief, I don't know what it means. How in the world should I know? It's just a part of the prayer. By the way, what does it mean?

IT MEANS HONORED, HOLY, WONDERFUL.

Hey, that makes sense. I never thought about what 'hallowed' meant before. Thanks.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.

DO YOU REALLY MEAN THAT?

Sure, why not?

WHAT ARE YOU DOING ABOUT IT?

Doing? Why, nothing, I guess. I just think it would be kind of neat if you got control of everything down here like you have up there. We're kinda in a mess down here you know.

YES, I KNOW; BUT, HAVE I GOT CONTROL OF YOU?

Well, I go to church.

THAT ISN'T WHAT I ASKED YOU. WHAT ABOUT YOUR BAD TEMPER? YOU'VE REALLY GOT A PROBLEM THERE, YOU KNOW. AND THEN THERE'S THE WAY YOU SPEND YOUR MONEY -- ALL ON YOURSELF. AND WHAT ABOUT THE KIND OF BOOKS YOU READ?

Now hold on just a minute! Stop picking on me! I'm just as good as some of the rest of those people at church!

EXCUSE ME. I THOUGHT YOU WERE PRAYING FOR MY WILL TO BE DONE. IF THAT IS TO HAPPEN, IT WILL HAVE TO START WITH THE ONES WHO ARE PRAYING FOR IT. LIKE YOU -- FOR EXAMPLE.

Oh, all right. I guess I do have some hang-ups. Now that you mention it, I could probably name some others.

SO COULD I.

I haven't thought about it very much until now, but I really would like to cut out some of those things. I would like to, you know, be really free.

GOOD. NOW WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE. WE'LL WORK TOGETHER -- YOU AND ME. I'M PROUD OF YOU.

Look, Lord, if you don't mind, I need to finish up here. This is taking a lot longer than it usually does.

Give us this day, our daily bread.

YOU NEED TO CUT OUT THE BREAD. YOU'RE OVERWEIGHT AS IT IS.

Hey, wait a minute! What is this? Here I was doing my religious duty, and all of a sudden you break in and remind me of all my hang-ups.

PRAYING IS A DANGEROUS THING.YOU JUST MIGHT GET WHAT YOU ASK FOR. REMEMBER, YOU CALLED ME --AND HERE I AM. IT'S TOO LATE TO STOP NOW. KEEP PRAYING.

pause...

WELL, GO ON.

I'm scared to.

SCARED? OF WHAT?

I know what you'll say.

TRY ME.

Forgive us our sins,as we forgive those who sin against us.

WHAT ABOUT CAROL?

See? I knew it! I knew you would bring her up! Why, Lord, she's told lies about me, spread stories. She never paid back the money she owes me. I've sworn to get even with her!

BUT -- YOUR PRAYER -- WHAT ABOUT YOUR PRAYER?

I didn't -- mean it.

WELL, AT LEAST YOU'RE HONEST.BUT, IT'S QUITE A LOAD CARRYING AROUND ALL THAT BITTERNESS AND RESENTMENT ISN'T IT?

Yes, but I'll feel better as soon as I get even with her. Boy, have I got some plans for her. She'll wish she had never been born.

NO, YOU WON'T FEEL ANY BETTER.YOU'LL FEEL WORSE. REVENGE ISN'T SWEET. YOU KNOW HOW UNHAPPY YOU ARE -- WELL, I CAN CHANGE THAT.

You can? How?

FORGIVE CAROL. THEN, I'LL FORGIVE YOU; AND THE HATE AND SIN WILL BE CAROL'S PROBLEM -- NOT YOURS.YOU WILL HAVE SETTLED THE PROBLEM AS FAR AS YOU ARE CONCERNED.

Oh, you know, you're right.You always are. And more than I want revenge, I want to be right with You..., (sigh). All right...all right...I forgive her.

THERE NOW! WONDERFUL! HOW DO YOU FEEL?

Hmmmm. Well, not bad. Not bad at all! In fact, I feel pretty great! You know, I don't think I'll go to bed uptight tonight. I haven't been getting much rest, you know.

YEAH, I KNOW. BUT, YOU'RE NOT THROUGH WITH YOUR PRAYER ARE YOU? GO ON.

Oh, all right. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

GOOD! GOOD! I'LL DO THAT. JUST DON'T PUT YOURSELF IN A PLACE WHERE YOU CAN BE TEMPTED.

What do you mean by that?

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Yeah. I know.

OKAY. GO AHEAD. FINISH YOUR PRAYER.

For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BRING ME GLORY -- WHAT WOULD REALLY MAKE ME HAPPY?

No, but I'd like to know. I want to please you now. I've really made a mess of things. I want to truly follow you. I can see now how great that would be. So, tell me ... how do I make you happy?

YOU JUST DID

John Powell, A professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then.

I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange. . .very strange. Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a slightly cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?" I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically. "Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing." I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, "Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!"

He shrugged a little and left my class and my life. I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line --- He will find you! --- At least I thought it was clever. Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe.

"Tommy, I've thought about you so often. I hear you are sick," I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.

"Sure, what would you like to know?" he replied.

"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real 'biggies' in life."

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under 'S' where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.) "But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God andyou said, 'No!' which surprised me. Then you said, 'But He will find you.' I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My clever line. He thought about that a lot!) "But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven.

But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit. Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: 'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.'"

"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him."

"Dad."

"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean . . . It's really important." The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that."

Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. "The newspaper fluttered to the floor.

Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.

"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to."

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn't come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give You three days, three weeks.' Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me. You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: 'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.'

"Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell them."

Ooh ..... I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.

"I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple statement about love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven --- I told them, Tommy, as best I could. f this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two. It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

This story is of something that happened just a few years ago at USC in Columbia.

There was a professor of philosophy who was a deeply committed atheist. His primary goal for one required class was to spend the entire semester attempting to prove that God couldn't exist. His students were always afraid to argue with him because of his impeccable logic.

For twenty years, he had taught this class and no one ever had the courage to go against him. Sure, some had argued in class at times, but no one had ever really gone against him because of his reputation.

At the end of every semester on the last day, he would say to his class of 300 students, "If there is anyone here who still believes in Jesus, stand up!" In twenty years, no one had ever stood up. They knew what he was going to do next. He would say, "Because anyone who believes in God is a fool. If God existed, he could stop this piece of chalk from hitting the ground and breaking. Such a simple task to prove that He is God, and yet He can't do it." And every year, he would drop the chalk onto the tile floor of the classroom and it would shatter into a hundred pieces.

All of the students would do nothing but stop and stare. Most of the students thought that God couldn't exist. Certainly, a number of Christians had slipped through, but for 20 years, they had been too afraid to stand up.

Well, a few years ago there was a freshman who happened to enroll. He was a Christian, and had heard the stories about his professor. He was required to take the class for his major, and he was afraid. But for three months that semester, he prayed every morning that he would have the courage to stand up no matter what the professor said, or what the class thought. Nothing they said could ever shatter his faith...he hoped.

Finally, the day came. The professor said, "If there is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!" The professor and the class of 300 people looked at him, shocked, as he stood up at the back of the classroom.

The professor shouted, "You FOOL!!! If God existed, he would keep this piece of chalk from breaking when it hit the ground!" He proceeded to drop the chalk, but as he did, it slipped out of his fingers, off his shirt cuff, onto the pleat of his pants, down his leg, and off his shoe. As it hit the ground, it simply rolled away unbroken.

The professor's jaw dropped as he stared at the chalk. He looked up at the young man, and then ran out of the lecture hall. The young man who had stood, proceeded to walk to the front of the room and shared his faith in Jesus for the next half hour. 300 students stayed and listened as he told of God's love for them and of His power through Jesus.

"The Little Boy and the Storm"

A little boy walked to and from school daily. Though the weather that morning was questionable and clouds were forming, he made his daily trek to the elementary school. As the afternoon progressed, the winds whipped up, along with thunder and lightning. The mother of the little boy felt concerned that her son would be frightened as he walked home from school and she herself feared that the electrical storm might harm her child.

Following the roar of thunder, lightning would cut through the sky like a flaming sword. Full of concern, the mother quickly got into her car and drove along the route to her child's school. As she did so, she saw her little boy walking along, but at each flash of lightning, the child would stop, look up and smile. Another and another were to follow quickly and with each the little boy would look at the streak of light and smile.

When the mother's car drew up beside the child, she lowered the window and called to him, "What are you doing? Why do you keep stopping?"

The child answered, "I am trying to look nice. God keeps taking my picture."

May God bless you today as you face the storms that come your way. And don't forget to SMILE!

How God Views Forgiveness

One night in a church service a young woman felt the tug of God at her heart. She responded to God's call and accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior. The young woman had had a very rough past, involving alcohol, drugs, and prostitution. However, the change in her was evident. As time went on, she became a faithful member of the church. She eventually became involved in the ministry, teaching young children. After a while, this faithful young woman caught the eye, and heart, of the pastor's son. The relationship grew and they began to make wedding plans and this is when the problems began. You see, about half of the church membership did not think that a woman with a past such as hers was a suitable mate for a pastor's son. The church began to argue and fight about the matter. Then, they decided to have a meeting. As the people made their arguments and tensions increased, the meeting was getting completely out of hand. The young woman became very upset about all the things being brought up about her past. The pastor's son could not bear the pain it was causing his young, faithful wife-to- be. As she began to cry, the pastor's son stood to speak. "I challenge everyone of you to think carefully about what is happening here tonight. It really is NOT my fianci's past that is on trial here. What all of you actually are questioning is the ability of the blood of Jesus to wash away sin. Today you have put the blood of Jesus on trial. So, what is your verdict? Does the blood of Christ wash away sin or not?" Tears welled up in the eyes of every Christian in the auditorium. The whole church began to weep as they realized that they really had been slandering the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Too often, even as Christians, we bring up the past and use it as a weapon against our brothers and sisters, or even against ourselves. Forgiveness is a very foundational part of the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. If the blood of Jesus could not cleanse the soul of every single person, then all of us would be in a lot of trouble. As the old hymn says, "What can wash away my sins? NOTHING, but the blood of Jesus." End of case!!! God Forgives. So Should We! May God truly bless your life!

A Forgiveness Parable

This story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey, they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, he wrote in the sand: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE"

They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but his friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning, he carved on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE"

The friend, who had slapped and saved his best friend, asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand, and now, you carve on a stone, why?"

The other friend replied: "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand, where the winds of forgiveness can erase it away, but when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone, where no wind can ever erase it."

LEARN TO WRITE YOUR HURTS IN THE SAND AND TO CARVE YOUR BLESSINGS IN STONE. Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that takes our breath away!

A Deck of Cards

The Chaplain noticed one soldier looking at a deck of cards. After service, he was taken by the Chaplain to see the Major. The Chaplain explained to the Major what he had seen. The Major told the young soldier he would have to be punished if he could not explain himself. The young soldier told the Major that during the battle, he had neither a Bible or a Prayer Book so he would use his deck of cards and explained: "You see, Sir, when I look at the Ace, it tells me that there is one God and no other. When I see the "2" it reminds me that there are two parts to the Bible, the Old Testament and the New Testament. The "3" tells me of the Trinity of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. The "4" reminds me of the four gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. When I see the "5" it tells me of the Five Unwise Virgins who were lost and that five were saved. The "6" makes me mindful that God created the earth in just six days, and God said that it was good. When I see the "7" it reminds me that God rested on the seventh day. As I look at the "8" it reminds me that God destroyed all life by water except for eight people, Noah, his wife, their three sons, and their three son's wives. When I see the "9" I think of the nine lepers that God healed. There were ten lepers in all, but only one stopped to thank Him.The "10" reminds me of the Ten Commandments carved in stone by the hand of God. The "JACK" makes me remember the Prince of Darkness. Like a roaring lion, he devours those that he can. When I look at the "QUEEN," I see the The Church, The Bride of Jesus. As I look at the last card, "The King," it reminds me that Jesus Is Lord Of Lords and King Of Kings." There are 365 spots on a deck of cards, and that is the number of days in each year. There are 52 cards to a deck and that is the number of weeks in a year. There are 12 picture cards and that is the number of months in a year. There are 4 different suits in a deck and that is the number of seasons in a year... And so, the young soldier then said to the Major, "You see, Sir, my intentions were honorable. My deck of cards serves as my BIBLE, my PRAYER BOOK and my ALMANAC. Most importantly my deck of cards reminds me that I need JESUS 365 days, 52 weeks and 12 months a year and that I should always PRAY 4 others." May you never look at a deck of cards the same way.

A Poem about the Pledge Crisis

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. I liked it....

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 the Bill of Rights.

And anytime my head I bow

Becomes a Federal matter now.

Our hair can be purple, orange or green,

That's no offense; it's a freedom scene.

The law is specific, the law is precise.

Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.

For praying in a public hall

Might offend someone with no faith at all.

In silence alone we must meditate,

God's name is prohibited by the state.

We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,

And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.

They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.

To quote the Good Book makes me liable.

We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,

And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King.

It's "inappropriate" to teach right from wrong,

We're taught that such "judgments" do not belong.

We can get our condoms and birth controls,

Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.

But the Ten Commandments are not allowed,

No word of God must reach this crowd.

It's scary here I must confess,

When chaos reigns the school's a mess.

So, Lord, this silent plea I make:

Should I be shot; My soul please take!

Amen

Jesus said, " If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father."

Other Stories coming soon!!! Check by next week!!!

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