I TOOK YOUR PLACE!

One day, a man went to visit a church. He arrived early, parked his car, and got out. Another car pulled up near him, and the driver told him, “I always park there. You took my place!”

The visitor went inside for Sunday School, found an empty seat, and sat down. A young lady from the church approached him and stated, “That’s my seat! You took my place!” The visitor was somewhat distressed by this rude welcome, but said nothing.

After Sunday School, the visitor went into the church sanctuary and sat down. Another member walked up to him and said, “That’s where I always sit. You took my place!”

The visitor was even more troubled by this treatment, but still said nothing. Later, as the congregation was praying for Christ to dwell among them, the visitor stood, and his appearance began to change.

Horrible scars became visible on his hands and on his sandaled feet. Someone from the congregation noticed him and called out, “What happened to you?”

The visitor replied…”I took your place.”

"NO, MA'AM, I WON'T-EVER"

I saw him in the church building for the first time on Wednesday. He was in his mid-70′s, with thinning silver hair and a neat brown suit. Many times in the past I had invited him to come to church. Several other Christian friends had talked to him about the Lord and had tried to share the good news with him.

He was a well-respected, honest man with so many characteristics a Christian should have, but he had never accepted Christ, nor entered the doors of the church. “Have you ever been to a church service in your life?” I had asked him a few years ago. We had just finished a pleasant day of visiting and talking.

He hesitated. Then with a bitter smile he told me of his childhood experience some fifty years ago. He was one of many children in a large impoverished family. His parents had struggled to provide food, with little left for housing and clothing. When he was about ten, some neighbors invited him to worship with them. The Sunday School class had been very exciting!

He had never heard such songs and stories before! He had never heard anyone read from the Bible! After class was over, the teacher took him aside and said, “Son, please don’t come again dressed as you are now. We want to look our best when we come into God’s house.”

He stood in his ragged, unpatched overalls. Then looking at his dirty bare feet, he answered softly, “No, ma’am, I won’t-ever.”

“And I never did,” he said, abruptly ending our conversation.

There must have been other factors to have hardened him so, but this experience formed a significant part of the bitterness in his heart. I ‘m sure that Sunday School teacher meant well. But did she really understand the love of Christ? Had she studied and accepted the teachings found in the second chapter of James?

What if she had put her arms around the dirty, ragged little boy and said, “Son, I am so glad you are here, and I hope you will come back every chance you get to hear more about Jesus.”

I reflected on the awesome responsibility a teacher or pastor or a parent has to welcome little ones in His name. How far-reaching her influence was! I prayed that I might be ever open to the tenderness of a child’s heart, and that I might never fail to see beyond the appearance and behavior of a child to the eternal possibilities within.

Yes, I saw him in the church house for the first time on Wednesday. As I looked at that immaculately dressed old gentleman lying in his casket, I thought of the little boy of long ago. I could almost hear him say, “No, ma’am, I won’t-ever.”

And I wept.

Let’s be careful of our words and our judgments!

LIFE STILL HAS MEANING

If there is a future there is time for mending –

Time to see your troubles coming to an ending.

Life is never hopeless however great your sorrow –

If you're looking forward to a new tomorrow.

If there is time for wishing then there is time for hoping –

When through doubt and darkness you are blindly groping.

Though the heart be heavy and hurt you may be feeling –

If there is time for praying there is time for healing.

So if through your window there is a new day breaking –

Thank God for the promise, though mind and soul be aching,

If with harvest over there is grain enough for gleaning –

There is a new tomorrow and life still has meaning.

THE LIST OF BLESSINGS!

Do you have anything to be thankful for? In his classic novel Robinson Crusoe, author Daniel Defoe has shipwrecked Crusoe take inventory of his life. He makes two lists. One is a list of his problems. The other is an inventory of that for which he can give thanks.

A problem he writes is that he has no clothing. On his corresponding list he writes that the weather is warm and he really has little need for clothing. Another problem is that all of his provisions were lost at sea. But on the other list he writes that he has fresh fruit and water and can provide for himself. And so it goes. He lists his problems and likewise lists all that he has going for him. He is surprised at the size of the list of his assets.

How long would your list be if you took inventory of your blessings -- all of that for which you can give thanks? For family! For friends! For faith! For health and the necessities of life! Did you know that some one million people will die this week...how is your health? Those who have food, clothing and shelter have more than much of our world's population will ever possess. Do you have these necessities of living?

How long would your list be if you took inventory of your blessings...and added one new item daily? Would you be amazed at the size of the list?

You have 1,440 minutes in every day. How would your life be different if you spent just 15 of those minutes daily giving thanks? Just 15 minutes filling your mind with concrete examples of how fortunate you are? Most of us would discover even after a few days that the exercise was life changing!

Poet Courtland Sayers put it this way:

Five thousand breathless dawns all new One million flowers fresh in dew.

Five thousand sunsets wrapped in gold One million snowflakes served ice cold.

Five quiet friends, one baby's love One white sea of clouds above.

One June night in a fragrant wood One heart that loved and understood.

I wondered when I waked that day - In God's name - how could I ever pay?

Meister Eckhart said, "If the only prayer you say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice."

I suspect he is right!

BIBLES RESCUED IN JAMES BOND-STYLE OPERATION

Rare holy book (Photo: AP)

Holy books dating back 1,000 years, meticulously guarded by Jewish community, travel from Damascus to Israel in continent-wide, James Bond-style operation.

It was a James Bond-style, continent-wide operation with many participants. It began in Syria, continued in the United States and ended in Israel. And yet, not a single word has been published about it – until now.

Yedioth Ahronoth has revealed the amazing rescue of some of the world's most ancient Bibles from Damascus.

The 11 holy books, some dating back 1,000 years, were written by copyist of the Scriptures around the world and arrived in the Syrian capital in different periods. The Jewish community took pride in them and guarded them meticulously, helping them survive the political upheavals that took place in the city over the years.

The Damascus books are considered the world's most ancient Bibles after the Aleppo Codex, which compared to them is torn and shabby.

The Rabin government decided to bring the books to Israel in 1995. The defense establishment, governmental organizations and immigrants from Syria took part in the secret operation.

"It was one of the most important operations we participated in," says Eliyahu Hasson, chairman of the community of Damascus Jews in Israel, who served as director-general of the Transportation Ministry at the time.

Judy Feld Carr, a Canadian pensioner who turned helping Syria's Jewry into her life's work, lauds the operation as well. "Out of all the things I have done in my life, this operation was the most brilliant," she declares.

Mystery remains

On their way from Syria to Israel, the ancient Bibles made a stop in New York. They arrived at a safe haven thee, inside a grey container, without anyone guessing its priceless content.

The mystery surrounding the books' journey from Damascus has not been fully cleared, and some parts of the story cannot be published.

"I'm sorry, I can’t tell you exactly how I got it out of there," says Feld Carr about the book she personally helped bring to Israel. "When I had a famous rabbi look at it, a Tunisian Jew, he burst into tears and said, 'Get this book out of my house. I feel like I have just seen God.'"

The people involved in the operation say that its execution was very costly. "It cost a lot of money, a lot," says Hasson. "Whoever did it acted wisely and knocked on the right doors. One weak link would have been enough to break the entire chain."

Hasson explains that in light of the sensitivity of the operation, it was supervised by high-ranking officials. "I have no doubt that Yitzhak Rabin was in on the secret," he says. "Unfortunately, the prime minister was murdered before they arrived in Israel and did not get to see the mission accomplished."

Taken from: Jewish World

LIFE IS A DO-IT-YOURSELF

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer of his plans to leave the house building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family.


He would miss the paycheck, but he wanted to retire. They could get by. The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end his career.


When the carpenter finished his work and the builder came to inspect the house, the contractor handed the front-door key to the carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you."


What a shock! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. Now he had to live in the home he had built none too well.


So it is with us. If we build our lives in a distracted way, reacting rather than acting, willing to put up less than the best. At important points we do not give the job our best effort. Then with a shock we look at the situation we have created and find that we are now living in the house we have built. If we had realized that we would have done it differently.


Think of yourself as the carpenter. Think about your house. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Build wisely.


It is the only life you will ever build. Even if you live it for only one day more, that day deserves to be lived graciously and with dignity.


The plaque on the wall says, "Life is a do-it-yourself project."


Your attitudes and the choices you make today will be your life tomorrow, build it wisely.

THE 11 RULES OF LIFE

RULE 1.
Life is not fair; get used to it.

RULE 2.
The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you
to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

RULE 3.
You will NOT make 40 thousand dollars a year right out of high school OR
college. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone, until you earn
both.

RULE 4.
If you think your teacher is tough, wait until you get a boss. He
doesn't have tenure.

RULE 5.
Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a
different word for burger flipping; they called it opportunity.

RULE 6.
If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your
mistakes, learn from them.

RULE 7.
Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now.
They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and
listening to you talk about how cool you are. So before you save the
rain forest from the parasites of your parents' generation, try
"delousing" the closet in your own room.

RULE 8.
Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life has
not. In some schools they have abolished failing grades; they'll give
you as many times as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear
the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

RULE 9.
Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very
few employers are interested in helping you find yourself. Do that on
your own time.

RULE 10.
Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave
the coffee shop and go to jobs.

RULE 11.
Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one. 

TEENS AND THEIR SUPERNATURAL PURSUITS

By Melody Carlson

Have you even wondered why some teens are drawn toward things like Ouija boards or psychics? Or why séances are still popular at sleepovers? Does it just have to do with Halloween and that spine-chilling need for a good scare? Or could it be something more? And, as a Christian, should you be concerned?

Those questions, as well as some confused reader letters, prompted me to tackle the “supernatural” in one of my teen novels (Moon White, TrueColors, Nav Press). And whenever I write an issues-based novel, I’m forced to research—and often in some dark places. So I began scouring websites, learning more about Wicca and the occult, trying to grasp what was really going on with today’s teens—and how I could write about it in a helpful and relevant way.

But, as usual, when I write a teen book, I go back to my own adolescence...trying to connect with my inner teen...and I suddenly remembered a short era when a friend and I got very interested in witchcraft. I had honestly forgotten about this time and was fascinated to recall how we scoured some witchcraft stores on a local campus—I think we even purchased a few things. Fortunately, this interest was short-lived and I became a Christian not long afterward.

However, as I reconnected with my inner teen, I had to ask myself—why had I looked into witchcraft back then? Why do teens dabble with it now? Suddenly the answer became crystal clear. I was searching. I’d been calling myself an atheist for several years by then, but I was spiritually hungry—starving in fact. Consequently I was looking for spiritual answers—something that would fill that empty void within me. I wanted a supernatural force in my life and I didn’t even care where it came from. I needed something bigger than me, more powerful than me, something to hold onto. I had no idea at the time that I was really searching for God.

This realization changed the way I viewed my research. Instead of feeling disgusted and dismayed by the witchcraft/Wicca sites (which are not particularly enjoyable) I began to recognize that these people (mostly girls) were simply searching too. They wanted a power source in their lives just like I wanted one in mine. They just hadn’t found God yet.

This led to another discovery. A girl who’s attracted to a religion like Wicca is usually seeking to gain some control over her life. Something is wrong and she wants to change it. To do so, she’s often enticed to purchase something—like “magical herbs”—to create a potion that will give her some control over her situation. Unfortunately, she doesn’t even realize she’s being tricked.

But think about it, wouldn’t you love to have control over a bad situation sometimes? Wouldn’t you love to be able to change the circumstances that make your life unpleasant? So what if someone offered you the “power” to do just that? Perhaps if you’re fifteen, you wouldn’t see that person as a charlatan and you would fall for it.

Which brings me to another important factor in understanding this generation’s attraction to the supernatural. Follow the money. The more I researched, the more it became painfully obvious that Wicca and witchcraft and the occult are money-making enterprises. Thanks to the internet, these savvy distributors sell anything imaginable—and many things you can’t. That leads to some serious motivation—these marketers want to hook their unsuspecting young customers and reel them in. Of course, these potions and trinkets and how-to books don’t come with a money back guaranty. Nor are they approved by the FDA. Yet they are a multi-million dollar industry.

 So, in a way, it’s a perfect storm. Teens that are insecure, lost, unhappy, and searching...meet up with an unregulated industry that offers supernatural answers and power and control...for a price. And, oh yeah, I never even mentioned how this opens a door for Satan to slip in and wreak havoc. For that...you’ll have to read the book.

_____________

My Guest Blogger Melody Carlson is an accomplished Christian author for children, pre-teens, youth, and adults, with sales totaling more than two million. Some of her most popular works are the Diary of a Teenage Girl books series (12 books and counting) and the True Colors book series. She captures the realism of teenage life today and the difficulty that comes with being a Christian.

Melody Carlson was born 3/2/1956 in San Francisco, California. She grew up in Springfield, Oregon attending Springfield High School and later Lane Community College. She currently resides in Sisters, Oregon.

TRUSTING GOD

There was once a climber, who thought he could do everything by himself. He decided to go mountain climbing one day. The mountain was higher than he thought it was, so it was getting kind of dark, until the point where he couldn't see anything. The mountain was slippery and full of snow. It was so cold.

When he was about to reach the top, his hand slipped and he fell. As he was falling, he grabbed on to the rope and he was hanging from the rope. All of a sudden, a blazing light appeared, it was God. The climber was telling God to help him. The Lord asked the climber if he believe in Him, and the climber said, “Of course, I do, so help me”. The Lord asked him again, “Do you trust me?” The climber nodded “yes”. So the Lord said : "If you do trust me, let go of the rope."

The climber looked confused, and he even held the rope tighter. Then the Lord said, “Very well”, and He disappeared. The next day, the park rangers found a climber hugging a rope two feet away from the ground.

Romans 15:13 My God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

THE TITANIC'S LAST HERO

John Harper was born to a pair of solid Christian parents on May 29th, 1872. It was on the last Sunday of March 1886, when he was thirteen years old that he received Jesus as the Lord of his life. He never knew what it was to “sow his wild oats.” He began to preach about four years later at the ripe old age of 17 years by going down to the streets of his village and pouring out his soul in earnest entreaty for men to be reconciled to God.

As John Harper’s life unfolded, one thing was apparent…he was consumed by the word of God. When asked by various ministers what his doctrine consisted of, he was known to reply “The Word of God!” After five or six years of toiling on street corners preaching the gospel and working in the mill during the day, Harper was taken in by Rev. E. A. Carter of Baptist Pioneer Mission in London, England.

This set Harper free to devote his whole time of energy to the work so dear to his heart. Soon, John Harper started his own church in September of 1896. (Now known as the Harper Memorial Church). This church which John Harper had started with just 25 members, had grown to over 500 members when he left 13 years later. During this time he had gotten married, but was shortly there after widowed. However brief the marriage, God did bless John Harper with a beautiful little girl named Nana.

Ironically, John Harper almost drowned several times during his life. When he was two and a half years of age, he almost drowned when he fell into a well but was resuscitated by his mother. At the age of twenty-six, he was swept out to sea by a reverse current and barely survived, and at thirty-two he faced death on a leaking ship in the Mediterranean. Perhaps, God used these experiences to prepare this servant for what he faced next…

It was the night of April 14, 1912. The RMS Titanic sailed swiftly on the bitterly cold ocean waters heading unknowingly into the pages of history. On board this luxurious ocean liner were many rich and famous people. At the time of the ship’s launch, it was the world’s largest man-made moveable object. At 11:40 p.m. on that fateful night, an iceberg scraped the ship’s starboard side, showering the decks with ice and ripping open six watertight compartments. The sea poured in.

On board the ship that night was John Harper and his much-beloved six-year-old daughter Nana. According to documented reports, as soon as it was apparent that the ship was going to sink, John Harper immediately took his daughter to a lifeboat. It is reasonable to assume that this widowed preacher could have easily gotten on board this boat to safety; however, it never seems to have crossed his mind. He bent down and kissed his precious little girl; looking into her eyes he told her that she would see him again someday.

The flares going off in the dark sky above reflected the tears on his face as he turned and headed towards the crowd of desperate humanity on the sinking ocean liner. As the rear of the huge ship began to lurch upwards, it was reported that Harper was seen making his way up the deck yelling “Women, children and unsaved into the lifeboats!” It was only minutes later that the Titanic began to rumble deep within. Most people thought it was an explosion; actually the gargantuan ship was literally breaking in half.

At this point, many people jumped off the decks and into the icy, dark waters below. John Harper was one of these people.

That night 1528 people went into the frigid waters. John Harper was seen swimming frantically to people in the water leading them to Jesus before the hypothermia became fatal. Mr. Harper swam up to one young man who had climbed up on a piece of debris. Rev. Harper asked him between breaths, “Are you saved?” The young man replied that he was not.

Harper then tried to lead him to Christ only to have the young man who was near shock, reply no. John Harper then took off his life jacket and threw it to the man and said “Here then, you need this more than I do…” and swam away to other people. A few minutes later Harper swam back to the young man and succeeded in leading him to salvation.

Of the 1528 people that went into the water that night, six were rescued by the lifeboats. One of them was this young man on the debris. Four years later, at a survivors meeting, this young man stood up and in tears recounted how John Harper had led him to Christ. Mr. Harper had tried to swim back to help other people, yet because of the intense cold, had grown too weak to swim.

His last words before going under in the frigid waters were “Believe on the Name of the Lord Jesus and you will be saved.” Does Hollywood remember this man? No. Oh well, no matter. This servant of God did what he had to do. While other people were trying to buy their way onto the lifeboats and selfishly trying to save their own lives, John Harper gave up his life so that others could be saved.

__________________

SOURCE: “The Titanic’s Last Hero”

Published by Moody Press 1997

JOHN 3:16 - THE MESSAGE OF LOVE

In the city of Chicago, one cold, dark night, a blizzard was setting in. A little boy was selling newspapers on the corner; the people were in and out of the cold.

The little boy was so cold that he wasn’t trying to sell many papers. He walked up to a policeman and said, “Mister, you wouldn’t happen to know where a poor boy could find a warm place to sleep tonight would you? You see, I sleep in a box up around the corner there and down the alley and it’s awful cold in there, of a night. Sure would be nice to have a warm place to stay.”

The policeman looked down at the little boy and said, “You go down the street to that big white house and you knock on the door. When they come out the door you just say ‘John 316′, and they will let you in.”

So he did! He walked up the steps to the door, and knocked on the door and a lady answered. He looked up and said, “John 316.”

The lady said, “Come on in, Son.” She took him in and she sat him down in a split bottom rocker in front of a great big old fireplace and she went off. He sat there for a while, and thought to himself, “John 316… I don’t understand it, but it sure makes a cold boy warm.”

Later she came back and asked him “Are you hungry?”

He said, “Well, just a little. I haven’t eaten in a couple of days and I guess I could stand a little bit of food.”

The lady took him in the kitchen and sat him down to a table full of wonderful food. He ate and ate until he couldn’t eat any more. Then he thought to himself “John 316… Boy, I sure don’t understand it, but it sure makes a hungry boy full.”

She took him upstairs to a bathroom to a huge bathtub filled with warm water and he sat there and soaked for a while. As he soaked, he thought to himself, “John 316… I sure don’t understand it, but it sure makes a dirty boy clean. You know, I’ve not had a bath, a real bath, in my whole life. The only bath I ever had was when I stood in front of that big old fire hydrant as they flushed it out.”

The lady came in and got him, and took him to a room and tucked him into a big old feather bed and pulled the covers up around his neck and kissed him goodnight and turned out the lights. As he laid in the darkness and looked out the window at the snow coming down on that cold night he thought to himself, “John 316… I don’t understand it, but it sure makes a tired boy rested.”

The next morning she came back up and took him down again to that same big table full of food. After he ate she took him back to that same big old split bottom rocker in front of the fireplace and she took a big old Bible and sat down in front of him and she looked up at and she asked, “Do you understand John 316?”

He said, “No, Ma’am, I don’t. The first time I ever heard it was last night when the policeman told me to use it.”

She opened the Bible to John 3:16, and she began to explain to him about Jesus. Right there in front of that big old fireplace he gave his heart and life to Jesus. He sat there and thought, “John 3:16. I don’t understand it, but it but it sure makes a lost boy feel safe.”

You know, I have to confess I don’t understand it either, how God would be willing to send His Son to die for me, and how Jesus would agree to do such a thing. I don’t understand it either, but it sure does make life worth living.

ONLY LOVE

It's a cold February night. People are bustling through the streets, either pulling up their coat collars or wrapping scarves around their necks, trying to stay warm.

It's so cold today.I'm standing at my window, looking at the people moving like little dots. Standing in a heated room, I'm beginning to pity those people. Why don't they go home? Do they plan on wandering until morning?

"Almost time to go home! My boyfriend must be going crazy." One of the nurses breathe a sign of relief. "Still needs to work overtime on Valentine's Day. It's so unfair!"

"You are fortunate." Another nurse says. "Some people don't have anyone waiting for them."

"You mean Dr. Shu?"

Like Sherlock Holmes, my ears perk up when I hear my name.

"Do you remember how she lost control on this day last year?"

"Of course I do." A nurse shudders. "I've never seen Dr. Shu like that. Crying and yelling, like she was crazy."

They are talking about how I was last year. They are correct. I was out of control, like they said.

"You can't blame Dr. Shu. If my boyfriend died in front of my eyes, I would probably go crazy as well."

"Keep it down. She hasn't left work yet. She might hear you." 

The two nurses are too late. I heard the entire conversation through the canvas wall.

"Dr. Shu, what are you doing standing here?"

Just as I was deciding whether or not to reveal myself, another nurse exposed me. I awkwardly step out. The 2 nurses who discussed me start to blush. Their faces became redder than the bow on Valentine's Day chocolates.

"I'm waiting to go home." I pretend that I didn't hear anything.

"Dr. Shu, you must have gotten too involved in your work. It's already past time to go home. See you tomorrow. Happy Valentine's Day!" She waves goodbye.

"Happy Valentine's Day." I wave back and watch the 2 nurses hurry away.

That's fine. I was ready to go home anyway. Even though no lover is waiting for me, at least there's a lazy cat waiting for me to feed.

After I come home, the first thing I do is feed the cat. I forgot when I first had the cat. Probably since last year's Valentine's Day. At that time, I was like an abandoned cat, with eyes filled with despair. Cats don't cry, I do. That's the only difference.

"Better drink all the milk or I'll skin you." I threatened the cat. Her name is Christine, my least favorite English name. I don't know why I named the cat Christine. Christine meowed once to let me know she heard me, but her eyes are complaining about my severity. Her eyes remind me of someone I used to know, standing in front of me with eyes of rebellions.

An year ago today, I had lunch with my boyfriend and took the opportunity to complain to him.

"Today is Valentine's Day. Why didn't you give me any flowers?"

He raised his eyebrow. "Why should I give you flowers? You are not my anyone."

"Then... you should at least give me a card!" I pouted my lips, hurt by his tone.

"I know, I know. After lunch, I'll send you an e-card."

E-card. That sounds so impersonal, but that's the way he is. "You have to e-mail it to me. I'll be waiting." I excitedly smiled and planned to sneak home after lunch to check e-mail. Even though he wouldn't use any romantic words, I still looked forward to the card.

"I can't stand you women. Why do you make such a big deal out of Valentine's Day??" He grumbled while eating his food. His comment induced me to fight with him again.

"You are not romantic at all!! Don't you watch any Japanese drama?"

"Japanese drama? I only watch Discovery Channel."

"Your life is so boring." I made a face at him. "One recent drama was really good. You should have watched it."
"What's that drama called?" He didn't believe in the love portrayed in TV and movies. He always thought they were lies.

"It's called 'Story of A Century'." I gladly answered.

"What kind of trashy plot did it have?"

"What do you mean trash?? Show some respect!" I was so angry. "That drama was very touching, and the theme song was beautiful as well. It's called 'Only Love', performed by Nana Mouskouri." I wonder if he knew who Nana was.

"Nana, I know her. A Greek singer with really expensive albums."

"Her voice is worth it." Even though I secretly agreed with him, I couldn't bring myself to admit it.

"Whatever." He glanced at his watch. "I'll give you 5 minutes to tell me the plot. After that, I'm leaving."

I tried hard to explain 6 hours worth of story in just 5 minutes. The drama portrayed the love stories of 3 generations of women spanning 100 years, from 1901 to 2000. Each generation was portrayed by the same actress. The story was tear-jerking.

"What's so touching about it?" He asked, after listening to the story.

"Don't you think each generation's story is wonderful? If I have such great screen writing ability, I wouldn't be a doctor anymore. I would become a screenwriter."

"If you become a screenwriter, I bet no one would watch the show. The TV station can go out of business." He quickly interjected.

"I'm going back to work. Hurry and send me the card!" I was so mad that I went home immediately, not even finishing my coffee.

As soon as I walked in my door, I turned on my computer and go online.

Staring at the empty in-box, I began to reminisce about how we met. Maybe no one will believe me, but my boyfriend and I were actually neighbors. Our homes were only 1 wall away. Ever since we were kids, we liked to fight with each other all day long. I still remember when I moved to the country that year. Used to the city life, I couldn't get used to the simple life in the country. After school, I would just go home and do nothing. Whenever that happened, he would always come over to tease me.

"Why are you staring off into space??" He loved to pull on my hair. "You're so ugly when you're doing nothing. But you're also not pretty when you smile." In other words, I'm really ugly.

"You're the one who's ugly!" I pull back my hair. "If you think I'm so ugly, why do you visit me??"

"Can't help it. My home is right next to your home." He argued.

"Then I'll move!" The next day, I drew a line in the ground using some white chalk. A line that I forbid him to cross.

That year, we were both in the 5th grade. We couldn't stand each other and hoped the other would move away. But 5 years passed, and neither of us moved. Not only that, we got into the same high school and into the same class.

"You're that infamous couple." All the students and teachers in the school would say whenever they saw us.

"We're not!" I always tried to explain. "We're only neighbors." At that time, I hated my parents for making us live next to him.

"My standard is not that low." He would say. "Who wants her to be a girlfriend?? It's not like I don't have eyes."

"Yes, I know your eyes are on top of your head." I really disliked him. "Better than having eyes on the bottom of my head like you." He implied that I couldn't judge guys. At that time, I had a crush on a senior.

I didn't think that his sarcasm had a hidden meaning. After a while, I found out that the senior student had lots of girlfriends. When I cried about it, he silently passed me a handkerchief and awkwardly held me in his arms.

"I told you he wasn't any good." He roughly comforted me. I cried in his arms the whole night, and began to see him in a different way. Things began to change between us. We still fought all the time, but he started to look at me differently. And I blushed and my heart beat faster when he was near. We both knew: we fell in love with each other.

Even with this knowledge, neither of us said anything. Even though we would not be able to resist and kissed each other constantly. Even though we cared about each other's every moves. Both of us refused to admit our love.

Time flew by quickly, and it was time to face separation. I chose to study medicine, and he chose physics. Yet we still couldn't separate from each other. Our parents worried that we didn't know anyone in Taipei, so they forced us to live in the same apartment building. Once again, we became neighbors. We still fought, but sometimes we fought into the bedroom. Alright, we became lovers, but we still wouldn't say we loved each other. We didn't even spend Valentine's Day together until he saw me share dinner with a man one Valentine's Day. That night, he waited for me in front of my door and said that he would take me out to dinner on Valentine's Day from then on. I have to say that he was very arrogant. But I nodded and accepted his request. Since then, we spent every Valentine's Day together. After graduation, I became an intern. He started a small computer company with some friends and became a programmer. We were busy with our own lives and had no time for a relationship. Three years later, I became a doctor, and his business began to boom. We separately moved to bigger apartments and stopped being neighbors. On the surface, we left each other. In reality, we were still together. We spent every Valentine's Day together but each year became more dreary than the next because he never told me he loved me even with all my hints.


Facing the empty in-box, I suddenly grew very angry. He wouldn't say it and wouldn't send me a card. What did he mean? Who did he think I was? I called his cell phone.

"Hello." He picked up the phone.

"I didn't receive the card." I immediately showed my displeasure.

"You didn't receive it?" He seemed really busy. "But I sent it."

He was really busy but I didn't care. "I didn't receive it. Send it again."

"Okay, I'll send you 100 times. Is that good enough??" He said with impatience. His tone further infuriated me. Is that how lovers speak to each other?

"Don't bother sending it to me. And you don't have to pick me up tonight. I'll eat dinner by myself."

"Don't be childish, ok? I'm really busy."

"I AM childish!" I hung up the phone and tears rolled down my cheeks.

Childish? Why didn't he consider the situation? We've gone out for so many years and spent countless Valentine's Day together. I never received any flowers nor cards from him. Now, I just want a little e-card. Is that too much to ask for?

I unplugged the phone from the wall and turned off my cell phone. I didn't want to hear his explanations. After I returned to the hospital, I instructed the receptionist not to forward me any phone calls. I wanted to concentrate on work.

Because there were so many emergencies today, I was sweating 1 hour later and forgot about our argument. "Dr. Shu, please take a look at that patient."

As I was collecting my equipment, the shrill sound of an ambulance sounded outside the ER. When I stepped out the door, the emergency medics hurriedly wheeled in a gurney.

"What happened to him?" I asked the 1st medic. Everyone else were trying to help put the patient on the gurney. He was covered with blood.

"Car accident." The medic replied. "Very serious. He may die."


I nodded and ran to the operating room with them. When I arrived, the nurses told me that the man had already stopped breathing and also his heartbeat also stopped.

"Prepare for shock." I calmly instructed the nurses. Saving people is our duty. We can't lose our calm.

But when I saw who laid on the operating table, I lost my calm. That person was my boyfriend!

"No..." I stood in shock. "No!" I grabbed the paddles and continuously shocked his body. His body bounced up and down from the shocks. The scared nurses went to find another doctor, to tell him that I was crazy.

I didn't know if I was crazy or not. I just wanted to save my lover. Even though we fought all the time. Even though he never showed me his love. I still wanted to save him. He still owed me a card. He couldn't die! I threw away the paddles and began to press on his heart. I pressed with all my strength, hoping it would revive him, but he didn't wake up. He didn't even say "It hurts". He just laid there with his eyes closed, punishing me with his silence.

Dr. Jian angrily pushed me away. By that time, I couldn't see clearly anymore. I cried. I wailed. I bowled until no sounds could come out of my mouth.

"It's too late, Dr. Shu. He's already dead. I'm sorry." Dr. Jian patted me on the shoulder. They knew each other and ate together once. I introduced them.

"He can't die." I shook my head. "He can't die!!" I struggled to run to him.

"Dr. Shu, control yourself!" Dr. Jian slapped me. "I understand what you're going through, but you're a doctor."

Yes, I'm a doctor, but I'm also a regular person. How can Dr. Jian understand how I feel? I've loved him for so many years that it's become a habit. How can I just throw away a habit? Besides, he still owed me a card. "I want him to live! I want him to live!" I ran to him again and tried to knock the life back into his body.

"Take her away!" That day, I lost my control and my professionalism.

And that day happened to be Valentine's Day.

Afterwards, I asked his co-workers why he left work early that day.

They told me that after I hung up the phone, he tried to call me several times but couldn't reach me. Worried, he drove to the hospital to find me and got hit by a large truck on the way.

When I heard this, I froze. My tantrum killed him. Just because of an unmailed card, he died. After that, I lost my privilege to be childish.

Like an abandoned cat, I couldn't even cry anymore. After his death, I couldn't cry anymore, regardless of how touching the plot or how tear-jerking the dialogue. They didn't affect me anymore.

Now, I'm only left with a cat and a seldomly used computer. Stepping over the cat, I turned on the computer. Even though I know no one will send me a mail, I still hoped that someone will remember me on this day.

Meow, meow. I looked at Christine to see what's wrong. She finished her milk. I went into the kitchen to get her more milk then came back to look at the computer screen.

I have.... 100 emails! Who would be bored enough to send me 100 junk mail?

I was just about to delete them all when I received another mail, and this one said: "Because of system error, we could not send these until today.

We apologize for the delay." The sender was my ISP.

I looked at the 1st mail. It showed the send date is last year's Valentine's Day. My heart began to beat fast. Could he have sent these?

With a trembling hand, I opened the mail. The first thing that popped up was a gorgeous red rose set against green leaves. Then a beautiful melody began to play.... "Only Love". I couldn't believe it. The rose was so beautiful and the music was so dreamy. I almost thought I was in a fantasy. Most touching of all were the words underneath the rose, because the words read like a beautiful poem.

"Hwei."

That's my name.

"Knowing you so many years, I've never sent you any flowers. Today I send you a rose."

I received it and it's so beautiful.

"You know we are always fighting. We can never really open our hearts and tell each other how we feel."

Yes, but it's all your fault for being so distant.

"I know I always make you mad by the things I say."

Good that you're admitting it.

"But today I want to say to you: I'm sorry, and I love you."

I waited so many years for those words.

"And I want to tell you a good news. I finally saved enough money."

You already have enough money. Why did you need so much?

"So Hwei, let's get married!! I was afraid to propose to you, because I didn't trust in my ability to give you the good life you deserve. But now I've saved enough money so we don't have to wait anymore."

Who wanted you to wait? I'm already yours.

"Today, I use this card to propose to you. Will you marry me, Hwei? Will you?"

That's the content of the whole card. Like a fool, I kept reading his words and talking to him. It's like I can hear his voice and see him again.

As if it's back to 1 year ago with us constantly fighting.

The song played over and over. Repeating Nana's heartbreaking voice.

Only love can make a memory. Only love can make a moment last. You were there and all the world was young and all it's songs unsung. and I remember you then when love was all, all you were living for, and how you gave that love to me...."

The lyrics of this song fits our love so closely. When he was alive, my world was so young. Every day, I could find a something different to fight with him about. But after he left, my life is only left with memories and coldness that will never go away.

"Will you marry me?"

When I read these words, my tears unconsciously came, wetting the keyboard.

Will I? If he's in front of me, I will definitely kick him and call him a big fool. If I wasn't willing, I wouldn't have waited until today.

So I moved the cursor over the "Reply" box, and typed the response that I've already prepared for so many years - "I will."

I will - be by his side for the rest of my life. I will - fight with him forever. That is how I answered him, but the only response I got was the repeating song "Only Love."

Nevertheless, I opened every single letter, accepted every singled rose, and typed the same response: "I will."

I replied 100 times, and "Only Love" played 100 times. In this cold Valentine's night, the line that's been broken for 1 year finally got reconnected.

I answered you. What about you?

THE RIVER

In the early days of our great country, a father and his young son were making a journey into the nearby village to acquire some tools and supplies.

Starting early in the morning, the two set forth on their assignment. To reach their destination, they had to cross a narrow stream and proceed through the woods, the countryside, and finally into the center of town. 

After completing their mission, they began their return trip home. As they walked along, a severe thunderstorm erupted. With the heavy downpour of water, the stream that was virtually nonexistent in the morning swelled to twice its size, and the waters swirled viciously against tree roots and rocks and rolled furiously downstream.

Fear rose within the child and the wise father offered to carry his son. Into the open arms of the father climbed the youngster, and experiencing safety and security, he quickly fell asleep in his father's strong and protective arms.

On arriving home, the father placed the sleeping child into bed. In the morning, with the sun shining through the windows, the youngster awoke in pleasant and comfortable surroundings.

Safe, comfortable and content, no longer fearful, he inquired, "Am I home? Did my father carry me across the raging waters?"

His mother responded with, "Yes, my child, your father brought you safely home. You are in your room in your father's house, snug and unharmed."

So it will be with each of us as we cross "the river" and awaken in a special room in a very special house.

HOPE!

The well-known maxim, "While there is life there is hope," has a deeper meaning in reverse:  "While there is hope there is life."

Hope comes first, life follows.  Hope gives power to life.  Hope rouses life to continue, to expand, to grow, to reach out, to go on.

Hope sees a light where there isn't any.

Hope lights candles in millions of despairing hearts.

Hope is the miracle medicine of the mind.  It inspires the will to live.  Hope is the physician's strongest ally.

Hope is our shield and buckler against defeat.

"Hope," wrote Alexander Pope, "springs eternal in the human breast."  And as long as it does we will triumph and move forward.

Hope never sounds retreat.  Hope keeps the banners flying.

Hope revives ideals, renews dreams, revitalizes visions.

Hope scales the peak, wrestles with the impossible, achieves the highest aim.

"The word which God has written on the brow of every person," wrote Victor Hugo, "is Hope."  As long as we have hope no situation is hopeless.

                                                                                                          Wilferd A. Peterson

GOD HAS BEEN GOOD TO ME

This story “God Has Been Good to Me”, is a heart-warming story. I guess we never view life in such a way. We all complain when life seems unfair to us. We have never taken into account how much we are blessed. Well, God has been good to me!

For 25 years, I watched him fight cancer of the face.

First just a small speck that begin to grow larger. Year after year I watch him go to hospital to have a bit cut out each time. As the years went by, more and more of his face was cut away. When he returned with what is left of his face, he tried to smile. He never complained or was downhearted.

He was a skillful mechanic and carpenter. In fact, he was one of the best. Whenever he did a job, he would stand back to see if there is anything left out that could be added to make it perfect. Then he would see some little place that the average person would pass up. He would then touch up this or that.

I suspect he said this to himself “My work will be my face and my life” I doubt if he often look in the mirror at that damaged face where the cancer eat into every day. No matter how humble the pace he worked in, how small the job is or how crude the other workers seem, it never bother him at all. This was his work and it has to be done right. He never glanced at the work of others; a shoddy work done by others was not his concern. Nevertheless, I suspect when the job was done, he had a sense of inner pride and joy when he saw how outstanding it was. But he never boasted about it.

As the years went by, he became weaker and weaker. His hands did not move with confidence and speed that so characterized him. He was unable to do many things. However no matter what the work or pay, he always had the insatiable desire to do a good job.

The help he got was not able to catch his vision. They thought he was cranky to try so hard to complete each and every detail. So he worked alone. He did not complain or bitterly rail at the others. He would just appear the next morning by himself with no explanation of the absence of his helpers.

During the latter day, he had only the shambles of a face. He would wrap it up in a red bandana handkerchief, leaving only his eyes showing.

When you met him on the streets, he would always give a cheery greeting. As time went on, it was more and more difficult to say he words. Often he would move his walking stick. This stick, too, was a thing of beauty, carved out by his skillful hands.

His life seemed to be filled with contentment and peace. I suspect that he thanked God for those hands and the fact that it was not marred in any way.

He would often be missed about his usual haunts for weeks or months. He would make his journey to the hospital for the surgeon to cut away more of his face. Then you would see him again, a bit more gruesome. There would be no complain, no telling of his operation and pain. He would just quietly go to work that was waiting for him.

In all his time, I never knew him to come back with any complaints about the pain. You would think there was nothing the matter if you did not see his face. When the days of his labors seem to come to an end, his chief concern was that his tools might be in good hands. He sent for me one day and told me he wished someone would appreciate the tools and use them properly.

When I took a young man to see him about the tools, there came a look of contentment and satisfaction. His work was finished and he was ready to cash in.

A few days before he died he was walking in the yard. His face was nearly completely covered with bandages. Only his eyes were uncovered. As he hobbled about the yard, he said “I am going to keep young just as long as I can”

The day he died, I went to see him again. The odor was so offensive you could hardly stay there. What was left of his face was a mass of scars and there was really nothing to cut away. You could tell he was in great pain and had many sleepless nights. But still there were no words of complaints.

I shall never forget his last words. Ever afterwards they have made me ashamed whenever I feel inclined to complain. Still day after day, they are vivid in my mind.

The words are “God has been good to me. I had never had any reason to complain”

"God has been good to me..."