WHAT I VALUE MOST

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man who used to live next door. College, girls, career, life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days. "Jack, did you hear me?" "Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said. "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him. "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said. "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly. "What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked. "The box is gone," he said. "What box? " Mom asked. "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention."Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most...was...my time." Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

HANG ON TO ONE ANOTHER

There is a beautiful story of an overworked nurse who escorted a tired young man to her patient’s bedside.
Leaning over and speaking loudly to the elderly patient, she said, “Your son is here.”

With great effort, the old man’s unfocused eyes opened, then flickered shut again. The young man squeezed the aged hand in his and sat beside the bed.

Throughout the night he sat there, holding the old man’s hand and whispering words of comfort.

By morning light, the patient had died. In moments, hospital staff swarmed into the room to turn off machines and remove needles.

The nurse stepped over to the young man’s side and began to offer sympathy, but he interrupted her.
“Who was that man?” he asked.

The startled nurse replied, “I thought he was your father!”

“No, he was not my father,” he answered. “I never saw him before in my life.” “Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

“I realized he needed his son and his son wasn’t here,” the man explained. “And since he was too sick to recognize that I was not his son, I knew he needed me.”

Do we need to be reminded that nobody should have to die alone? Likewise, nobody should have to grieve alone or cry alone. Or laugh alone or celebrate alone.

We are made to travel life’s journey hand in hand. There is someone ready to grasp your hand today, and someone hoping you will take his or her hand.

Remember to hang on to one another!

Lord help me live from day to day
In such a self-forgetful way
That even when I kneel to pray
My prayer shall be for others.

THE THREE TREES

Once upon a mountain top, three little trees stood and dreamed of what they wanted to become when they grew up.

The first little tree looked up at the stars and said: "I want to hold treasure. I want to be covered with gold and filled with precious stones. I'll be the most beautiful treasure chest in the world!"

The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on it's way to the ocean. "I want to be traveling mighty waters and carrying powerful kings. I'll be the strongest ship in the world!"

The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy men and women worked in a busy town. "I don't want to leave the mountain top at all. I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me, they'll raise their eyes to heaven and think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world."

Years passed. The rain came, the sun shone, and the little trees grew tall. One day three woodcutters climbed the mountain. The first woodcutter looked at the first tree and said, "This tree is beautiful. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his ax, the first tree fell. "Now I shall be made into a beautiful chest, I shall hold wonderful treasure!" The first tree said.

The second woodcutter looked at the second tree and said, "This tree is strong. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his ax, the second tree fell. "Now I shall sail mighty waters!" thought the second tree. "I shall be a strong ship for mighty kings!"

The third tree felt her heart sink when the last woodcutter looked her way. She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to heaven. But the woodcutter never even looked up. "Any kind of tree will do for me," he muttered. With a swoop of his ax, the third tree fell.

The first tree rejoiced when the woodcutter brought her to a carpenter's shop. But the carpenter fashioned the tree into a feedbox for animals. The once beautiful tree was not covered with gold, nor with treasure. She was coated with saw dust and filled with hay for hungry farm animals.

The second tree smiled when the woodcutter took her to a shipyard, but no mighty sailing ship was made that day. Instead the once strong tree was hammered and sawed into a simple fishing boat. She was too small and too weak to sail to an ocean, or even a river. Instead she was taken to a little lake.

The third tree was confused when the woodcutter cut her into strong beams and left her in a lumberyard. "What happened?" The once tall tree wondered. "All I ever wanted was to stay on the mountain top and point to God..."

Many, many days and night passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams. But one night, golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feedbox. "I wish I could make a cradle for him." her husband whispered.

The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone on the smooth and the sturdy wood. "This manger is beautiful." she said. And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world.

One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep as the second tree quietly sailed out into the lake. Soon a thundering and thrashing storm arose. The little tree shuddered. She knew she did not have the strength to carry so many passengers safely through with the wind and the rain.

The tired man awakened. He stood up, stretched out his hand, and said, "Peace." The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. And suddenly the second tree knew she was carrying the king of heaven and earth.

One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams were yanked from the forgotten woodpile. She flinched as she was carried through an angry jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers nailed a man's hands to her. She felt ugly and harsh and cruel. But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God's love had changed everything.

It had made the third tree strong. And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of God. That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.

The next time you feel down because you didn't get what you want, sit tight and be happy because God is thinking of something better to give you. 

GOD'S COFFEE

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some
expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:

"If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.

What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of Life we live.

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us."

God brews the coffee, not the cups. Enjoy your coffee!

The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything.
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God.

WEAKNESS OR STRENGTH

Sometimes your biggest weakness can become your biggest strength. Take, for example, the story of one 10-year-old boy who decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.

The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn't understand why, after three months of training, the master had taught him only one move.

"Sensei," the boy finally said, "shouldn't I be learning more moves?"

"This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you'll ever need to know," the sensei replied.

Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training.

Several months later, the sensei took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals.

This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the sensei intervened.

"No," the sensei insisted, "Let him continue."

Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.

On the way home, the boy and sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind.

"Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?"

"You won for two reasons," the sensei answered. "First, you've almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. Second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm."

The boy's biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.

A STORY OF HOPE

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have that money can't buy.

"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."

CAN YOU INSTALL LOVE?

Customer Service Rep: Can you install love?

Customer: I can do that. I'm not very technical, but I think I am ready to install now. What do I do first?

CS Rep: The first step is to open your HEART. Have you located your HEART ma'am?

Customer: Yes I have, but there are several programs running right now. Is it okay to install while they are running?

CS Rep: What programs are running ma'am?

Customer: Let me see.... I have PASTHURT.EXE, LOWESTEEM.EXE, GRUDGE.EXE, and RESENTMENT.COM running right now.

CS Rep: No problem. LOVE will automatically erase PASTHURT.EXE from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory, but it will no longer disrupt other programs. LOVE will eventually overwrite LOWESTEEM.EXE with a module of its own called HIGHESTEEM.EXE. However, you have to completely turn off GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM. Those programs prevent LOVE from being properly installed. Can you turn those off ma'am?

Customer: I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how?

CS Rep: My pleasure. Go to your Start menu and invoke FORGIVENESS.EXE. Do this as many times as necessary until GRUDGE.EXE and RESENTMENT.COM have been completely erased.

Customer: Okay, I'm done. LOVE has started installing itself automatically. Is that normal?

CS Rep: Yes it is. You should receive a message that says it will reinstall for the life of your HEART. Do you see that message?

Customer: Yes I do. Is it completely installed?

CS Rep: Yes, but remember that you have only the base program. You need to begin connecting to other HEARTS in order to get the upgrades.

Customer: Oops...I have an error message already. What should I do?

CS Rep: What does the message say?

Customer: It says "ERROR 412 - PROGRAM NOT RUN ON INTERNAL COMPONENTS." What does that mean?

CS Rep: Don't worry ma'am, that's a common problem. It means that the LOVE program is set up to run on external HEARTS but has not yet been run on your HEART. It is one of those complicated programming things, but in non-technical terms it means you have to "LOVE" your own machine before it can "LOVE" others.

Customer: So what should I do?

CS Rep: Can you find the directory called SELFACCEPTANCE"?

Customer: Yes, I have it.

CS Rep: Excellent, you are getting good at this.

Customer: Thank you.

CS Rep: You're welcome. Click on the following files and then copy them to the "MY HEART" directory: FORGIVESELF.DOC, SELFESTEEM.TXT, REALIZEWORTH.TXT and GOODNESS.DOC. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching any faulty programming. Also, you need to delete SELFCRITIC.EXE from all directories, and then empty your recycle bin afterwards to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back.

Customer: Got it. Hey! My HEART is filling up with really neat files. SMILE.MPG is playing on my monitor right now and it shows that WARMTH.COM, PEACE.EXE, and CONTENTMENT.COM are copying themselves all over my HEART!

CS Rep: Then LOVE is installed and running. You should be able to handle it from here. One more thing before I go...

Customer: Yes?

CS Rep: LOVE is freeware. Be sure to give it and its various modules to everybody you meet. They will in turn share it with other people and they will return some really neat modules back to you.

Customer: I will. Thank you for your help.

BETWEEN A ROCK AND THE LOVE OF GOD

When Andrew got ready for work one Friday morning, he announced to his wife that he finally decided to ask his boss for a salary raise. All day Andrew felt nervous and apprehensive as he thought about the upcoming showdown. What if Mr. Larchmont refuses to grant his request? Andrew had worked so hard in the last 18 months and landed some great accounts for Braer and Hopkins Advertising Agency. Of course, he deserves a wage increase.

The thought of walking into Larchmont's office left Andrew weak in the knees. Late in the afternoon he finally mustered up the courage to approach his superior. To his delight and surprise, the ever-frugal Harvey Larchmont agreed to give Andrew a raise!

Andrew arrived home that evening-despite breaking all city and state speed limits-to a beautiful table set with their best china, and candles lit. His wife, Tina had prepared an exquisite meal including his favorite dishes. Immediately he figured someone from the office tipped her off!

Next to his plate Andrew found a beautiful lettered note. It was from his wife. It read: "Congratulations, my love! I knew you'd get the raise! I prepared this dinner to show just how much I love you. I am so proud of your accomplishments!" He read it and stopped to reflect on how sensitive and caring Tina was.

After dinner, Andrew was on his way to the kitchen to get dessert and he observed that a second card had slipped out of Tina's pocket on to the ceramic floor. He bent forward to retrieve it. He read: "Don't worry about not getting the raise! You deserve it anyway! You are a wonderful provider and I prepared this dinner to show you just how much I love you even though you did not get the increase."

Suddenly tears swelled in Andrew's eyes. Total acceptance! Tina's support for him was not conditional upon his success at work.

The fear of rejection is often softened when we know someone loves us regardless of our success or failure. In my experience as a pastor, the strongest encouragement I receive is from the love of our Heavenly Father. As long as I am faithful to do my best, God stands behind me no matter what happens. He will not condemn me for my mistakes or failures.

Quite the opposite! He heals my wounds and enables me to make another run for it in the very area where I experience defeat. Another display of the Lord's acceptance is when He touches me through positive support from my wife.

We can undergo almost any setback or rejection if we know someone else loves us. The first place to start? Begin by discovering the unconditional mercy and compassion of our loving Heavenly Father as shown in the gift of His Son Jesus. "We love because He first loved us" ~1John 4:19

Story adapted by Louis Lapides

A TEST OF LOVE

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!"

BUILDING BRIDGES - A STORY OF FORGIVENESS

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch.

Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work" he said.

"Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?"

"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a fence - an 8-foot fence - so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day.

The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing.

About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge... a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work handrails and all - and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched.

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done."

The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to build."

GOD'S WHISPER

Not long ago I heard a story about a young man and an old preacher. The young man had lost his job and didn’t know which way to turn. So he went to see the old preacher.

Pacing about the preacher’s study, the young man ranted about his problem. Finally he clenched his fist and shouted, “I’ve begged God to say something to help me. Tell me, Preacher, why doesn’t God answer?”

The old preacher, who sat across the room, spoke something in reply–something so hushed it was indistinguishable. The young man stepped across the room. “What did you say?” he asked.

The preacher repeated himself, but again in a tone as soft as a whisper. So the young man moved closer until he was leaning on the preacher’s chair. “Sorry,” he said. “I still didn’t hear you.” With their heads bent together, the old preacher spoke once more. “God sometimes whispers,” he said, “so we will move closer to hear Him.”

This time the young man heard and he understood. We all want God’s voice to thunder through the air with the answer to our problem. But God’s is the still, small voice - the gentle whisper.

Perhaps there’s a reason. Nothing draws human focus quite like a whisper. God’s whisper means I must stop my ranting and move close to Him, until my head is bent together with His. And then, as I listen, I will find my answer. Better still, I find myself closer to God.

PROPPING UP ON YOUR LEANING SIDE

Every time I am asked to pray, I think of the old deacon who always prayed, Lord, prop us up on our leanin' side.

After hearing him pray that prayer many times, someone asked him why he prayed that prayer so fervently.

He answered, 'Well sir, you see, it's like this...I got an old barn out back. It's been there a long time, it's withstood a lot of weather, it's gone through a lot of storms, and it's stood for many years.

It's still standing. But one day I noticed it was leaning to one side a bit. So I went and got some pine poles and propped it up on its leaning side so it wouldn't fall.

Then I got to thinking about that and how much I was like that old barn. I've been around a long time. I've withstood a lot of life's storms. I've withstood a lot of bad weather in life, I've withstood a lot of hard times, and I'm still standing too. But I find myself leaning to one side from time to time, so I like to ask the Lord to prop us up on our leaning side, cause I figure a lot of us get to leaning, at times.

Sometime we get to leaning toward anger, leaning toward bitterness, leaning toward hatred, leaning toward cussing, leaning toward a lot of things that we shouldn't. So we need to pray, 'Lord, prop us up on our leaning side, so we will stand straight and tall again, to glorify the Lord.

If you stare at this barn for a second you will see who will help us stand straight and tall again.

Will you let this simple but meaningful story speak to you now? Do not resist Him when He comes knocking at the door of your heart. Give in and let Him take control of your life...

A MONUMENTAL SPIRIT

About six years ago, I went to the Poconos for a winter retreat with my church.  It was a small, simple gathering of about forty kids.   

We were not yet teens but slowly coming to realize ourselves as more than just children. 

Since I was new to the church, a few friends of mine gave me a basic overview on the kids of our youth group.  I can still remember a few random faces and the descriptions that went with them: "Oh, that's so-and-so. He's such a pussy; he wet the bed at last year's retreat." or "That's the kid that kicked so-and-so's butt cuz he bothered his sister."   

  
Yet the one that haunts me with such clarity to this day is of a little girl, probably in the third grade at the time.  With uneven locks of greasy hair adorning her mishappen face, she was constantly bombarded with ridicule from the heartless and unsympathetic.  She was born with a physical ailment that affected her coordination and altered her facial features.  It would be almost a daily retreat tradition for us to yell "retard" as she passed by on her  way to the chapel.                              
  
Yet, as the final day of our retreat neared, we all prepared our hearts for the most emotional night...the night in which voices would cry, hands would be  raised, and eyes would flow freely without considering what the person next to you would think the following day. Yet, instead of pouring our hearts out in a scattered groups on the floor as expected, our pastor told us to stay in our seats for a moment.  
                                                            
After about three minutes of composed silence, he said with calm, monotone sincerity, "Who here loves Jesus?"   

Everyone raised their hand; some even shouted small cries of their devotion. 
                                
"Who here really loves Jesus?" he repeated. 
                                
Again, everyone raised their arms, some fists clenched, accompanied by countless amens and hallelujahs. Then, as the silence reentered the room, he slowly produced a seven-inch long,steel stake from behind his back. With eyes of ice, he said,   

"Then those of you that really love Jesus please come to the front of the room...and suffer his fate."

  

A confused and scared silence congested the air of the room.  No one dared make a sound, even a cough, for fear that everyone else may look at him.  It seemed as though everything had been frozen in a heavy fog that engulfed the room. Watches seemed to have stopped.  Eyes ceased to blink.  The only thing that moved was the flowing perspiration as we all waited for something to happen.  The pastor clenched the stake high above his head.   

"Who here is willing to place their hand out for this stake to puncture it?  Who? Who?" 
                                
A small, scraping sound arose from the back row.  It was the sound of a little girl,  whimpering and stumbling, slowly rising from her chair. She broke the expectations of every person that had looked down on her, the retard, the ugly retard, just as Jesus had been resurrected in spite of the Romans' hatred of him.  She bore the weight of everyone's stares and snickers as she limped up the aisle to the front of the room, just as Jesus had arduously carried his cross.  Slowly lifting her ugly head to the pastor, she muttered, "I will."  

                                                              
Tears coursed from the pastor's eyes as he asked her with fervent conviction, 
                                
"Are you willing to pierce your hands for Jesus? Are you?!"

  

Her face was streaked with the rivers of tears, not emotional tears like that of all of ours had been, but spiritual tears flowing from her dull eyes. She  slowly peeled her arms from her sides and lifted them to the man before her.  
                               
"Yes." 

Not much changed the next day.  She  didn't miraculously lose her physical defects.  She was still made fun of...mostly by the kids that weren't at the last night's service.  And I'm sure that if I asked any of the kids that were in that room the final night if they ever made fun of anyone ever again that they would all say yes.  But the fact of the matter is, that occurence will stay with all of us, the teachers, the kids, everyone, for the rest of our lives.  
                                            

And perhaps we should all stop being so judgmental, so ready to accuse or  ridicule or hate, and stop modeling ourselves to be like the Romans.  Because as much as it surprised us all, the only one of us that approached  the pastor with a sincere courage was that "retard, that ugly retard" girl.    

                          

And even though we already know this, do we really always follow it?  Well, that just shows the understanding and love of Jesus, of how much he can allow himself to be spit on and laughed at and still forgive us...just like a  humble, disabled little girl with a monumental spirit....and I hope this girl's courage and sincere faith has affected you and will remind you of  Christ's love as much as it has me.

LIFE AS A CAKE

A little boy is telling his Grandma how everything is going wrong - school, family problems, severe health problems, finances and almost anything he could name.

Meanwhile, Grandma is baking a cake. She asks the child if he would like a snack, which of course he does.

"Here. Have some cooking oil."

"Yuck," says the boy.

"How about a couple of raw eggs?"

"Gross, Grandma."

"Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?"

"Grandma, those are all yucky!"

To which the Grandma replies: "Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!

Many times we wonder why God would let us go through such difficult times.

But, when He puts everything in His order, they always work for good.

We just have to trust Him: for he will make something wonderful!

DROPS OF JOY

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt several farmers before it was through. Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn't see some rain soon - we would lose everything. 

It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes. I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort...trying to be as still as possible. Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed. 

Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods. This activity went on for over an hour: walking carefully to the woods, then running back to the house. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen... as he was obviously doing something important and didn't need his Mommy checking-up on him). 

He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill the water he held in them... maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands. I sneaked closer as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much greater purpose. As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site. 

Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him... he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hand. 

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle of water began to creep out. He knelt there, letting each drip of water slowly fill up his makeshift "cup," as the sun beat down on his little back. It was just last week he was punished for playing with the garden hose, and received a stern lecture on the importance of not wasting water. So, I'm sure that is why he didn't ask me to help him. 

It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands. When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I'm not wasting," was all he said. As he began his walk, I joined him - with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away - it was his job. 

I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save a life. As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops - and more drops - and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, Himself, was weeping with pride. 

Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles don't really happen. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can't argue with that - I'm not even going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm - just like the actions of one little boy saved a life.

ANATOMY OF FRIENDSHIP

My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body. Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct answer. When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, "My ears, Mommy."

She said, "No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon."

Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. So this time I told her, "Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes."

She looked at me and told me, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind."

Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, "No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child."

Then last year, my grandpa died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry. My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandpa. She asked me, "Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?"

I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me. She saw the confusion on my face and told me, "This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in our life. For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you were wrong and I have given you an example why. But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson."

She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said, "My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder."

I asked, "Is it because it holds up my head?"

She replied, "No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, my dear. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it."