SOMEONE ELSE

I know that all of you were saddened to learn this week of the death of one of our church's most valuable members - Someone Else.

Someone's passing created a vacancy that will be difficult to fill.  Else has been with us for many years, and for every one of those years, Someone did far more than the normal person's share of the work.  Whenever leadership was mentioned, this wonderful person was looked to for inspiration as well as results.  Someone Else can work with that group.  Whenever there was a job to do, a class to teach, or a meeting to attend, one name was on everyone's lips, "Let Someone Else do it."  It was common knowledge that Someone Else was among the largest givers in the church.  Whenever there was a financial need, everyone just assumed that Someone Else would make up the difference.  

Someone Else was a wonderful person, sometimes appearing super-human, but a person can only do so much.  Were the truth known, everyone expected too much of Someone Else.  Now Someone Else is gone.  We wonder what we are going to do.  Someone Else left a wonderful example to follow, but who is going to follow it?  Who is going to do the things Someone Else did?  Remember, we can't depend on Someone Else anymore.

ACTS OF KINDNESS

This young man was driving home one evening, on a two lane country road. Work in this small mid-western community was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac, but he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with winter coming on, the chill had finally hit home.

It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill, but he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and he knew the country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working , this came in handy.

It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know, he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help, for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe. He looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help you Ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through.

She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Bryan added "...and think of me." He waited until she started her car and drove off.

It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor--it didn't ring much.

Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase.

The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger.

Then she remembered Bryan. . .

After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get change for a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on the napkin under which were 4 one-hundred dollar bills. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote. It said: "You don't owe me anything, I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard.

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be all right - I love you, Bryan."

THE LOVE OF GOD

At a camp-meeting in a mid-western state, the preacher concluded his message by quoting what later became the last stanza of the famous song “The Love of God.” The profound depths of the lines moved author and composer Frederick M. Lehman to preserve the words for future generations. Not until he had gone to California did this urge find fulfillment, and that at a time when circumstances forced him to do hard manual labor.

One day in 1917, during short intervals of inattention to his work, he picked up a scrap of paper and, seated upon an empty lemon box pushed against a wall, with a stub pencil in his hand, he added the first two stanzas and chorus of the song.

What became the 3rd stanza had been found penciled on the wall of a patient's room in an insane asylum, and the general opinion was that this inmate had written the epic in moments of sanity. But in reality, the key stanza was written nearly one thousand years earlier by a Jewish songwriter. Here is part of the original Jewish poem as written in Aramaic by Rabbi Mayer of Worms, Germany in the year 1096:

Were the sky of parchment made,

A quill each reed, each twig and blade,

Could we with ink the oceans fill,

Were every man a scribe of skill,

The marvelous story of God's great glory

Would still remain untold;

For He, most high, the earth and sky

Created alone of old.

Of course, we know the song this way:

The love of God is greater far

Than tongue or pen can ever tell;

It goes beyond the highest star,

And reaches to the lowest hell;

The guilty pair, bowed down with care,

God gave His Son to win;

His erring child He reconciled,

And pardoned from his sin.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,

And were the skies of parchment made,

Were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade,

To write the love of God above

Would drain the ocean dry.

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

Though stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!

How measureless and strong!

It shall for evermore endure,

The saints' and angels' song.

THE FLAWS IN OUR LIVES

A story is told of a water bearer in China who had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots of water to his house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, being perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.”

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there are flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side? That is because I have always known of your flaw, and I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you have watered them. For the past two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all cracked pots. But it is the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You’ve just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them.

God's light shines greater through "cracked pots" than it does through those who have it all together!

IN THE WELL WITH GOD

A young boy, walking through the field one day, preoccupied in thought, fell into a well. He was not hurt; however, his mother, on finding him, but unable to extricate him from the well at the moment, stood at the mouth of the well speaking comforting words to him. Sensing his mother’s anxiety, he said to her, “Mother, do not worry, I was talking to God when He and I fell into this well together.”

How comforting, when in the furnace of affliction, to know that He is there with us, too!

TEN GUIDELINES FROM GOD

Effective immediately, please be aware that there are changes YOU need to make in YOUR life. These changes need to be completed in order that I may fulfill my promises to you to grant you peace, joy and happiness in this life. I apologize for any inconvenience, but after all that I am doing, this seems very little to ask of you. Please, follow these 10 guidelines

1. QUIT WORRYING:

Life has dealt you a blow and all you do is sit and worry. Have you forgotten that I am here to take all your burdens and carry them for you? Or do you just enjoy fretting over every little thing that comes your way?

2. PUT IT ON THE LIST:

Something needs done or taken care of. Put it on the list. No, not your list. Put it on my to-do-list. Let me be the one to take care of the problem. I can't help you until you turn it over to me. And although my to-do-list is long, I am after all...God! I can take care of anything you put into my hands. In fact,

if the truth were ever really known, I take care of a lot of things for you that you never even realize.

3. TRUST ME:

Once you've given your burdens to me, quit trying to take them back. Trust in Me. Have the faith that I will take care of all your needs, your problems and your trials. Problems with the kids? Put them on my list. Problem with finances? Put it on my list. Problems with your emotional roller-coaster? For my sake, put it on my list. I want to help you. All you have to do is ask.

4. LEAVE IT ALONE:

Don't wake up one morning and say, "Well, I'm feeling much stronger now, I think I can handle it from here." Why do you think you are feeling stronger now? It's simple. You gave me your burdens and I'm taking care of them. I also renew your strength and cover you in my peace. Don't you know that if I give you these problems back, you will be right back where you started? Leave them with me and forget about them. Just let me do my job.

5. TALK TO ME:

I want you to forget a lot of things. Forget what was making you crazy. Forget the worry and the fretting because you know I'm in control. But there's one thing I pray you never forget. Please, don't forget to talk to me - often! I love you! I want to hear your voice. I want you to include me in on the things going on in your life. I want to hear you talk about your friends and family. Prayer is simply you having

a conversation with Me. I want to be your dearest friend.

6. HAVE FAITH:

I see a lot of things from up here that you can't see from where you are. Have faith in me that I know what I'm doing. Trust me; you wouldn't want the view from My eyes. I will continue to care for you, watch over you, and meet your needs. You only have to trust me. Although I have a much bigger task than you, it seems as if you have so much trouble just doing your simple part. How hard can trust be?

7. SHARE:

You were taught to share when you were only two years old. When did you forget? That rule still applies. Share with those who are less fortunate than you. Share your joy with those who need encouragement. Share your laughter with those who haven't heard any in such a long time. Share your tears with those who have forgotten how to cry. Share your faith with those who have none.

8. BE PATIENT:

I managed to fix it so in just one lifetime you could have so many diverse experiences. You grow from a child to an adult, have children, change jobs many times, learn many trades, travel to so many places, meet thousands of people, and experience so much. How can you be so impatient then when it takes me a little longer than you expect to handle something on My to-do-list? Trust in my timing, for my timing is perfect. Just because I created the entire universe in only six days, everyone thinks I should always rush, rush, rush.

9. BE KIND:

Be kind to others, for I love them just as much as I love you. They may not dress like you, or talk like you, or live the same way you do, but I still love you all. Please try to get along, for my sake. I created each one of you different in some way. It would be too boring if you were all identical. Please, know I love each of your differences.

10. LOVE YOURSELF:

As much as I love you, how can you not love yourself? You were created by me for one reason only - to be loved, and to love in return. I am a God of Love. Love Me. Love your neighbors. But also love yourself.

It makes my heart ache when I see you so angry with yourself when things go wrong. You are very precious to me. Don't ever forget...

WHICH DOOR ARE YOU?

A daughter complained to her father about how hard things were for her. "As soon as I solve one problem," she said, "another one comes up. I'm tired of struggling."

Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen where he filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire.

Soon the pots came to a boil. In one he placed carrots, in the second, eggs, and in the last, ground coffee beans. He let them sit and boil, without saying a word. The daughter impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing.

After awhile, he went over and turned off the burners. He fished out the carrots and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the eggs out and placed them a bowl. He poured the coffee into a bowl.

Turning to her he asked, "Darling, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

He brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee.

She smiled, as she tasted its rich flavor. She asked, "What does it mean, Father?"

He explained that each of them had faced the same adversity, boiling water. But each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting, but after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg was fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. By being in the boiling water, they changed the water.

He asked his daughter, "When adversity knocks on your door, which are you?"

LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

Source: Unknown

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library.

Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell.

With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York.

"You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose.

As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her.

This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.

"I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.

EXPLAIN GOD

Source Unknown

"One of God's main jobs is making people. He makes them to replace the ones that die so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth. He doesn't make grown-ups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way He doesn't have to take up His valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.

"God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times besides bedtime. God doesn't have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because He hears everything, there must be a terrible lot of noise in His ears, unless He has thought of a way to turn it off. "God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn't go wasting His time by going over your mom and dad's head asking for something they said you couldn't have.

"Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista. At least there aren't any who come to our church.

"Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got tired of Him preaching to them and they crucified Him. But He was good and kind, like His Father and He told His Father that they didn't know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said O.K.

"His Dad (God) appreciated everything that He had done and all His hard work on earth so He told Him He didn't have to go out on the road anymore. He could stay in heaven. So He did. And now He helps His Dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones He can take care of Himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary, only more important.

"You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to help you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the time.

"You should always go to Church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you want to make happy, it's God. Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong. And besides the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway.

"If you don't believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can't go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can. It is good to know He's around you when you're scared in the dark or when you can't swim and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids.

"But you shouldn't just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and He can take me back anytime He pleases.

“And that's why I believe in God.”

I don't know how far this is true, but the following piece was purportedly written by an eight-year-old student by the name of Danny Dutton of Chula Vista, California, for his third grade homework assignment.

WHEN EVERYTHING GOES WRONG

Image: Unknown

I was going through a divorce and had just moved with my daughters into an old, but affordable home. 'Please see us through this,' I prayed daily, wondering how I would manage alone. Then the furnace stopped running just as the temperature plummeted. It was unusually cold for Phoenix and the house was freezing.

I called the utility company and uncovered an unbelievable string of errors. First, I learned my account had never been closed because the gas bill had not been paid. But I had never gotten the statement because it had been sent to the wrong address. Then, when the company tried calling me, my answering machine (which I didn't know was broken) didn't record the message!

There was a strict policy that a canceled account would not be reinstated without first doing a check of the entire heating system. So, after all the upheaval and financial stress we had been through, I had to pack up my kids and go to a hotel for a couple of days until workmen inspected my furnace.

'God, aren't you watching out for us at all?' I fumed - until the day the workers came out to the house.

"Lady," one of the workmen said, after the inspection, "you and your family are lucky to be alive. We discovered a hole in the heat exchanger that would have leaked carbon monoxide directly into your home. Thank God your furnace didn't go on."

When you are tired and discouraged from fruitless effort,

GOD knows how hard you have tried.

When you've cried so long your heart is in anguish,

GOD has counted your tears.

If you feel that your life is on hold and time has passed you by,

GOD is waiting for you.

When nothing makes sense and you are confused or frustrated,

GOD has the answer.

If suddenly your outlook is brighter and you find traces of hope,

GOD has whispered to you.

When things are going well and you have much to be thankful for,

GOD has blessed you.

When something joyful happens and you are filled with awe,

GOD has smiled upon you.

Remember, that whatever you are feeling,

GOD knows!

PLEASE LET ME IN

Source: Unknown

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. People were filling the church to its fullest capacity! As they entered, each were given a bulletin filled with the announcements, topic of today’s sermon, what songs they would sing and who to pray for. At the end of the line stood an older man. His clothes were filthy and you could tell that he had not bathed in days. His face was covered in whiskers where he had not shaved for a very long time.

When he reached the usher, he removed his tattered old brown hat in respect. His hair was a long, dirty, tangled mess. He had no shoes on his feet, and wore only soiled, black socks.

The usher put his fingers to his nose and glared at the old man and said, “Ooh, I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid we can’t let you in. You will distract the congregation and we don’t allow anyone to disrupt our service. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

The old man looked down at himself and with a puzzled look on his face, he placed his old brown hat back upon his head and turned to leave. He was sad as he loved to hear the choir sing praises to the Lord. He loved to watch the little children get up in front of the church to sing their little songs. He carried in his pocket a small worn out Bible and loved to see if the minister preached a passage from the Bible that the old man had underlined. He was respectful enough and didn’t want to cause any commotion, so he hung down his head and walked back down the steps of the big brick church.

He sat down on the brick wall near the edge of the church yard and strained to listen through closed doors and windows to the singing going on in the church. Oh how he wished he could be inside with all the others. A few minutes had passed by when all of a sudden a younger man came up behind him and sat down near him. He asked the old man what he was doing.

He answered, “I was going to go to church today, but they thought I was filthy and my clothes are old and worn, and they were afraid I would disrupt their service. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is George.”

The two gentlemen shook hands and George couldn’t help but notice that this man had long hair like his. He wore a piece of cloth draped over his body tied with a royal purple sash. He had sandals upon his feet, now covered with dust and dirt.

The stranger reached out to touch George’s shoulder and said, “Hello, George, don’t feel bad because they won’t let you in. My name is Jesus, and I’ve been trying to get into this same church for years, and they won’t let me in either.”

THE DECK OF CARDS

This is a story about a soldier in the North Africa Campaign in World War II. After heavy fighting the men returned to camp. The next day being Sunday, the Chaplain had set up church service. The men were asked to take out their Bibles or prayer book. The Chaplain noticed one soldier looking at a deck of cards. After the service he was taken by the Chaplain to see the Major.

The Chaplain explained to the Major of what he had seen. The Major told the young soldier how 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 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 there is two parts of the Bible, the Old and New Testaments.

* 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; There are Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

* When I see the 5, it tells me of the five unwise virgins who were lost, and the five who were saved.

* The 6 makes me mindful that God created the earth in just six days, and God said that it was good. So He rested on the 7th day.

* As I look at the 8, I remembered that God destroyed all life by water except eight people. There were Noah and his wife, their three sons and their wives.

* When I see the 9, I think of the nine ungrateful lepers that God healed. There were ten in all, but only one came back to thank Him.

* The 10 tells 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 he can.

* When I look at the Queen, I see blessed Mary, mother of Jesus.

* As I look at the last card, I see the King. This reminds me Jesus is the Lord of Lords and King of Kings!

* There are 365 spots on the cards, the number of days in a year.

* There are 52 cards to a deck, the number of weeks in a year.

* There are 12 picture cards, the number of months in a year.

* There are 4 cards to a suit, the number of months in a quarter.

* There are 13 suits, the number of weeks in a quarter."

And so the young soldier then said to the Major, "You see, Sir, that my intentions were honorable. My deck of cards serves as my Bible, my Prayer book, and my Almanac."

THE SWAN & THE CRANE

birdsasart.com

Many years back, may be at least two decades ago, I read this simple story of a swan and a crane and their conversation about heaven. The story goes something like this:

One day a beautiful swan alighted by the banks of the water in which a crane was wading about seeking snails.

For a few moments the crane viewed the swan in stupid wonder and then inquired:

"Where do you come from?"

"I come from heaven!" replied the swan.

"And where is heaven?" asked the crane.

"Heaven!" said the swan, "Heaven! Have you never heard of heaven?"

And the beautiful bird went on to describe the grandeur of the Eternal City. She told of streets of gold, and the gates and walls made of precious stones; of the river of life, pure as crystal, upon whose banks is the tree whose leaves shall be for the healing of the nations. In eloquent terms the swan sought to describe the hosts who live in the other world, but without arousing the slightest interest on the part of the crane.

Finally the crane asked: "Are there any snails there?"

"Snails!" repeated the swan; "No! Of course, there are not."

"Then," said the crane, as it continued its search along the slimy banks of the pool, "You can have your heaven. I want my snails!"

Many of us are like the crane. We fail to understand the grandeur and beauty of heaven so as to long for it intensely. Heaven and the things in it are much better than our best possessions and the riches of this world. Yet, we love this world so much. We often talk about heaven but lacks sincerity. We are so used to the vanities of the world. We treasure our “snails” and are even willing to trade the joy and happiness of heaven for it.

Why are we so stubborn? Why do we hate to give up our “snails”?

Isaiah 55:8-9 says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

If only we can truly understand the things which God has prepared for!

Lord, teach us to understand and desire the things of heaven. Help us to disregard worldly materials and seek only things of you.

THE GOSSIP

A woman repeated a bit of gossip about a neighbor. Within a few days the whole community knew the story. The person it concerned was deeply hurt and offended. Later, the woman responsible for spreading the rumor learned that it was completely untrue. She was very sorry and went to a wise old sage to find out what she could do to repair the damage.

Go to the marketplace," he said, "and purchase a chicken, and have it killed. Then on your way home, pluck its feathers and drop them one by one along the road." Although surprised by this advice, the woman did what she was told.

The next day the wise man said, "Now, go and collect all those feathers you dropped yesterday and bring them back to me."

The woman followed the same road, but to her dismay the wind had blown all the feathers away. After searching for hours, she returned with only three in her hand.

“You see," said the old sage, "it's easy to drop them, but it is impossible to get them back. So it is with gossip. It doesn't take much to spread a rumor, but once you do you can never completely undo the wrong."

How would your life be different if…You walked away from gossip and verbal defamation? Let today be the day…You speak only the good you know of other people and encourage others to do the same || Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people || Eleanor Roosevelt

Isn't it kind of silly to think that tearing someone else down builds you up? || Sean Covey, The 7 Habits Of Highly Effective Teens

Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies || Jane Austen

THE RECKONING ROOM

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except the one wall covered with small index cards files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different readings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then, without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have Betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I have Told," "Comfort I Have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I Have Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done In My Anger," "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents."

I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I'd hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting and was signed with my own signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I have Listened To," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of the music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.

One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them." In an insane frenzy, I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I couldn't dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I have Shared The Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came.

I began to weep.

Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as he began opening the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over to me and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things.

But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was, "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up and He led me out of the room.

There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me || Phil. 4:13

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life || John 3:16

ONE STORMY NIGHT...

Photo: britannica.com

One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia. Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get some shelter for the night.

"Could you possibly give us a room here?" the husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town.

"All of our rooms are taken," the clerk said. "But I can't send a nice couple like you out into the rain at one o'clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It's not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night."

When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. "Don't worry about me; I'll make out just fine," the clerk told them. So the couple agreed.

As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, "You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I'll build one for you."

The clerk looked at them and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh.

As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn't easy.

Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round-trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.

The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.

"That," said the older man, "is the hotel I have just built for you to manage."

"You must be joking," the young man said.

"I can assure you I am not," said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.

The older man's name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.

The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Boldt. This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world's most glamorous hotels.

The Bible says that we are not to turn our backs on those who are in need, for we might be entertaining angels.

Life is more accurately measured by the lives you touch than the things you acquire...

THE MOTHER'S GIFT

Photo: Kendra MacFarlane

"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.

When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.

He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy... called me a freak."

He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music.

"But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.

The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided.

Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by.

Then one fine day, "You are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret," said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service.

"But I must know!" He urged his father, "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him." "I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know... not yet."

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come...one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother had no outer ears.

"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"

Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart.

Real treasure lies not in what   that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen.

Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.

TRUE LOVE

Photo: Leanne Alessi

On the last day before Christmas, I hurried to the supermarket to buy the rest of the gifts I hadn’t managed to buy earlier.

When I saw all the people there, I started to complain to myself: “It is going to take forever here and I still have so many other places to go. Christmas really is getting more and more annoying every year. How I wish I could just lie down, go to sleep, and only wake up after it was over.”

Nonetheless, I made my way to the toy section, and there I started to decry the prices, wondering if kids really play with such expensive toys.

I noticed a small boy about five years old, pressing a doll against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of the doll, and he looked so sad. I wondered whom this doll was for. Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him and asked, “Granny, are you sure I don’t have enough money?” The old lady replied, “You know that you don’t have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.”

Then she asked him to stay there for five minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hands.

Finally, I walked over to him and asked him to whom he wanted to give this doll.

“This is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.”

I replied that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry. But he said sadly, “No, Santa Claus can not bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mother so that she can give it to her when she goes there.” His eyes were so sad while saying this. “My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mummy will also go to see God very soon, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.”

My heart nearly stopped.

The little boy looked up at me and said, “I told Daddy to tell Mummy not to go yet. I asked him to wait until I come back from the supermarket.” Then he showed me a very nice photo of himself where he was laughing.

He told me, “I also want Mummy to take this photo with her so that she will not forget me. I love my mummy and I wish she didn’t have to leave me, but Daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.”

Then he looked again at the doll with his sad eyes. I quickly reached for my wallet and took out a few dollars and said to the boy, “What if we checked again, just in case, to see if you have enough money?”

“Okay,” he said. “I hope that I have enough.” I added some of my money to his without him seeing, and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll, and even some to spare. The little boy said, “Thank you, God, for giving me enough money.”

Then he looked at me and added, “I asked yesterday before I slept for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that Mummy can give it to my sister. He heard me. I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mummy, but I didn’t dare to ask God for too much. But he gave me enough to buy the doll and the white rose. Mummy loves white roses.”

A few minutes later, the old lady returned, and I left with my cart. I finished my shopping in a totally different state of mind from when I started. I couldn’t get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local newspaper article two days before, about an accident involving a drunk driver in a truck and a young mother and child in a car. The little girl died at the scene, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life support system, because the young lady would not be able to recover from the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young lady had passed away. I impulsively bought a bunch of white roses and went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was on display for visitors to pay their final respects.

She lay there in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand, with the doll and the photo of the little boy placed over her chest.

I left the place crying, feeling that my life had been changed forever.

The love that this little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.

And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken it all away from him.

DON'T QUIT PLAYING

dryicons.com

Wishing to encourage her young son’s progress on the piano, a mother took the small boy to a Paderewski concert. After they were seated, the mother spotted a friend in the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her.

Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way through a door marked “No Admittance!”

When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that her son was missing.

Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway on stage.

In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy’s ear, “Don’t quit. Keep playing.”

Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child and he added a running obligato.

Together, the old master and the young novice transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience. The audience was mesmerized.

That’s the way it is with God. What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy. We try our best, but the results aren’t exactly graceful flowing music; but with the help of the Master, our life’s work truly can be beautiful.

Next time you set out to accomplish great feats, listen carefully. You can hear the voice of the Master, whispering in your ear, “Don’t quit. Keep playing.” Feel his loving arms around you. Know that his strong hands are playing the concerto of your life.

Remember, God doesn’t call the equipped, he equips the called.

ARE YOU A PUMPKIN?

A woman was asked by a co-worker, “What is it like to be a Christian?”

The woman replied, “It is like being a pumpkin. God picks you from the patch, brings you in, and washes all the dirt off of you. Then he cuts off the top and scoops out all the yucky stuff. He removes the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc. Then he carves you a new smiling face and puts his light inside of you to shine for all the world to see.”