For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 20th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

The Silent Times

There are occasions when God will speak to you and then be silent for an extended period of time. Silence does not mean you have been forsaken by God. It simply means that God has spoken, and now is the time to allow the word that He spoke to germinate and come to pass.

Silence is not the same as peace. Silence is the absence of noise, but peace is the presence of God! While you are going through “silent times,” you should focus on inner peace.

Inner peace produces outward confidence in the face of negative circumstances so that we can go forward in the assurance that even though tribulation is coming against us, we are more than conquerors over it!

The Greek word for peace actually describes a spiritual equilibrium no matter whatever may seek to upset us. The biblical meaning of peace never denotes the absence of trouble. Peace is not the absence of negatives but the presence of positives. God’s peace is inward and spiritual and never predicated by contrary circumstances or negative events.

Poverty, sickness, death nor debt can override internal peace!

Silent times should indicate a time of reflection, introspection and listening. The quieter we become, the more we hear.  However, we cannot rush the silent times.

Silent times are times of transition. Transition is always uncomfortable and appears to last forever. We must ENDURE the silent times! Whenever you see the word endure, it means that there is no short cut through it. It must be endured.  You cannot circumvent what must be endured.

We are told to ENDURE unto the end. (Matt. 24:13)
We are told to ENDURE persecution and tribulation. (II Th. 1:4-10)
We are told to ENDURE hardness. (II Tim. 2:1-3)
We are told to ENDURE affliction. (II Tim. 4:5)
We are told to ENDURE chastening. (Heb. 12:7)

The key to being able to ENDURE is to see the END (ENDure).

Now, here are some things for you to question during the silent times:

Is my life really submitted to God?
Am I submitted at home, work, church and to the government?
Have I learned my lesson?
What is God trying to teach me?
Am I humble enough to be teachable?
Has the fruit of patience been sufficiently developed in me?
Do I still have an appetite for the world in me?
Did I properly respond to the last thing God told me to do?
Have I attained a deeper faith?
Is my attitude right toward God and others?
Am I harboring unforgiveness?
What am I becoming?
Have I sufficiently developed and matured as a person?
Have I taken the time to minister to the Lord? (Acts 13:2)

During your silent times you should:

1. Practice and develop your gifts. Study.
2. Clarify. Define goals. Reorder priorities.
3. Serve (even while you are hurting).
4. Trust God.
5. Pray

Your silent times should change your life! You should come out as a new person! When you come out, you should have a new level of:

1. Knowledge
2. Responsibility
3. Authority/Power
4. Faith
5. Trust

Remember, problems never come to last, they only come to pass!

Traveling Soldiers

I hope that you will spare me a few minutes of your time to tell you about something that I saw on Monday, October 27.

I had been attending a conference in Annapolis and was coming home on Sunday.  As you may recall, Los Angeles International Airport was closed  on Sunday, October 26, because of the fires that affected air traffic control.  Accordingly, my flight, and many others, were canceled and I wound up spending a night in Baltimore.

My story begins the next day.  When I went to check in at the United counter Monday morning I saw a lot of soldiers home from Iraq.  Most were very young and all had on their desert camouflage uniforms.  This was a change from earlier, when they had to buy civilian clothes in Kuwait to fly home.  It was a visible reminder that we are in a war.  It probably was pretty close to what train terminals were like in World War II.

Many people were stopping the troops to talk to them, asking them questions in the Starbucks line or just saying “Welcome Home.”   In addition to all the flights that had been canceled on Sunday, the weather was terrible in Baltimore and the flights were backed up.  So, there were a lot of unhappy people in the terminal trying to get home,  but nobody that I saw gave the soldiers a bad time.

By the afternoon, one plane to Denver had been delayed several hours.  United personnel kept asking for volunteers to give up their seats and take another flight.  They weren’t getting many takers.  Finally, a United spokeswoman got on the PA and said this, “Folks.  As you can see, there are a lot of soldiers in the waiting area.  They only have 14 days of leave and we’re trying to get them where they need to go without spending any more time in an airport than they have to.  We sold them all tickets, knowing we would oversell the flight.  If we can, we want  to get them all on this flight.  We want all the soldiers to know that we respect what you’re doing, we are here for you and we love you.”

At that, the entire terminal of cranky, tired, travel-weary people, across-section of America, broke into sustained and heart-felt applause.  The soldiers looked surprised and very modest.  Most of them just looked at their boots.  Many of us were wiping away tears.  And, yes, people lined up to take the later flight and all the soldiers went to Denver on that flight.

That little moment made me proud to be an American, and also told me why we win our wars.

If you want to send my little story on to your friends and family, feel free.  This is not some urban legend.  I was there, I was part of it, I saw it happen.

Will Ross, United States Department of Defense, Administrative Judge

The Sower

Jesus taught in stories or what the bible calls parables.  He did this so that we could remember the principles better that he was teaching to his hearers.

One of the most important was that of The Sower………….Jesus said that the Word of God was like a man going out to sow or scatter seeds in the field, which was the way that they planted wheat in those days.  The man would take a bag of wheat seeds and throw  them out in an arc across the prepared ground.  Jesus said that His Gospel story, (like the words that I shared with you in the prison when we first met and I invited you to make a decision about God), was like the wheat seeds.

Jesus said that some fell on rocky ground, sprang up quickly, but without deep soil for its roots, it just withered and died.  In the same way , some of your peers hear the story of why Jesus came, accept his message, and just glow with happiness.  Yet, when they do not study his word or fail to continue to pray, and neglect hanging with other Christian believers, they wither and fall away………..just like the seed that tried to grow on rocky ground.

Jesus said that some fell among the thorns, and sprang up, but the thorns chocked them out  In like manner, some accept God’s word, make a decision for Jesus, but go back with their old unbelieving friends, and continue to allow the sinful things of the world to be the most important things in their lives, and the Devil causes the things of the world to choke God’s way from their lives……..the thorns of the world choke out their relationship with God.

But Jesus also said that some of the seed fell on good, fertile ground, and sprang up and took good root and grew up healthy, and bore much fruit. 

That is the kind of seed and success that I want you to be.

Stay
In CC at a hospital near Annapolis, Maryland last month the nurse took the young service man to the old gentleman’s bedside.

“Your son is here,” she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed.

All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength.  Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile.

He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.

“Who was that man?” he asked.

The nurse was startled, “He was your father,” she answered.

“No, he wasn’t,” the Marine replied. “I never saw him before in my life.”

“Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

“I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here.

When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, and seeing how much he needed me, I stayed.”

     I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey.  His Son was killed in Afghanistan
   yesterday, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman’s Name?
 
   The Nurse with Tears in Her Eyes Answered, Mr. William Grey…………The next time someone needs you like that …… just be there.  Stay.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 19th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Pumpkin

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

The co-worker replied, “It is like being a pumpkin. God picks you from the patch, brings you in, and washes all the dirt off of you.

Then he cuts off the top and scoops out all the yucky stuff. He removes the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc., and then He carves you a new smiling face and puts His light inside of you to shine for all the world to see.”

This was passed on to me from another pumpkin.

The Road of Life
At first, I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die.

He was out there sort of like a president.  I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I really didn’t know Him.  But later on when I really met Christ, it seemed as though life were rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike. Then I noticed that Christ was in the back helping me pedal.  I don’t know just when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since.

When I had control, I had to know the way.  It was rather boring, but predictable.  It was the shortest distance between two points.  But when He took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places at breakneck speeds. It was all I could do to hang on!

Even though it looked like madness, He said, “Pedal!”  I worried and was anxious and asked, “Where are you taking me?”  He laughed and didn’t answer, and I started to learn to trust.  I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure, and when I’d say, “I’m scared,” He’d lean back and touch my hand.  I gained love, peace, acceptance and joy; gifts to take on my journey, my Lord’s and mine.  And we were off again.

He said, “Give the gifts away.  They’re extra baggage, too much weight.”   So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and thus our burden was light.

I did not trust Him, at first, in control of my life.  I thought He’d wreck it; but he knows bike secrets, knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners, knows how to jump to clear high rocks, knows how to fly to shorten, scary passages.  And I am learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I’m beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion, Jesus Christ.

And when I’m sure I just can’t do it anymore, He just smiles and says.…….”Pedal!” 

Scars:

Some years ago, on a hot summer day in south Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.

He flew into the water, swam out into the lake and then started back, not realizing that as he swam, an alligator was swimming toward the shore also.

His father working in the yard saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could.

Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and turned to swim to his father. It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to be driving by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived.

His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father’s fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved.

The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, “But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn’t let go.”

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle, He’s been there holding on to you.

The Bible teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead.

The swimming hole of life is filled with peril – and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That’s when the tug-of-war begins – and if you have the scars of His love on your arms, be very, very grateful. He did not let you go.

Never judge another persons scars, because you don’t know how they got them.

Right now, someone needs to know that God loves them, and you love them too……..enough to not let them go!

Red Marbles

During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller’s roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively.  One particular day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

“Hello Barry, how are you today?”

“H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya.  Jus’ admirin’ them peas … sure look good.”

“They are good, Barry. How’s your Ma?”

“Fine.  Gittin’ stronger alla’ time.”

“Good.  Anything I can help you with?”

“No, Sir.  Jus’ admirin’ them peas.”

“Would you like to take some home?”

“No, Sir.  Got nuthin’ to pay for ’em with.”

“Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?”

“All I got’s my prize marble here.”

“Is that right? Let me see it.”

“Here ’tis.  She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that.  Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?”

“Not ‘zackley …..but, almost.”

“Tell you what.  Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble.”

“Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: “There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. My Jim has the warmest heart that you will ever see.  I think that it is because he loves and stays so close to Jesus.  He just loves to bargain with those boys for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn’t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps.”

I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this wonderful Christian man. A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering. Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one.

Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.

Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ….. very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband’s casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.  Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.

Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes. Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. “Those three young men, who just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim “traded” them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size… they came to pay their debt. “We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,” she confided, “but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.”

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, magnificently shiny, red marbles.

Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.  Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.  Jim Miller is right there to spend eternity in Heaven with Jesus.

I so want you to be there with him when you have finished your time here on this planet!

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

 

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 18th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

ATTITUDE

Jerry is the manager of a restaurant in rural America. He is always in a good mood and always has something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would always reply, “If I were any better, I would be twins!”

Many of the waiters at his restaurant quit their jobs when he changed jobs so they could follow him around from restaurant to restaurant. There reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude.

He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was always there, telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, “I don’t get it! No one can be a positive person all of the time.  How do you do it?”  Jerry replied, “Each morning I wake up and say to myself, I have two choices today. I can choose to be in a good mood or I can choose to be in a bad mood. I always choose to be in a good mood.

Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I always choose to learn from it.

Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I always choose the positive side of life.”

“But it’s not always that easy,” I protested.

“Yes, it is,” Jerry said “Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. It’s your choice how you live your life.”

Several years later, I heard that Jerry accidentally did something you are never supposed to do in the restaurant business: he left the back door of his restaurant open one morning and was robbed by three armed men.

While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found quickly and rushed to the hospital. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.

I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied, “If I were any better, I’d be twins. Want to see my scars?”  I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place.

“The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door,” Jerry replied. “Then, after they shot me, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live or choose to die.  I chose to live.”

“Weren’t you scared?”  I asked.  Jerry continued, “The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the Emergency Room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared.  In their eyes, I read ‘He’s a dead man.’  I knew I need to take action.”

“What did you do?” I asked. “Well, there was a big nurse shouting questions at me,” said Jerry. “She asked if I was allergic to anything.”

‘Yes,’ I replied.  The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, ‘Bullets!’  Over their laughter, I told them, ‘I am choosing to live. Please operate on me as if I am alive, not dead’.”

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that EVERY DAY YOU HAVE THE CHOICE TO EITHER ENJOY YOUR LIFE, OR TO HATE IT.

The only thing that is truly yours that no one can control or take from you – is YOUR ATTITUDE, so if you can take care of that, everything else in life becomes much easier.

And it has been observed over the years……..that those who are closest to God invariably have the best attitudes!

Always…

Scott got to church early to get a good seat for the Christmas service.  He found a seat up against the aisle, and settled in.  People were starting to file in wearing their Sunday finery when he remembered his cell phone was on.  Just as he started to cut it off, John walked up with a big smile and a handshake.  A typical Sunday morning conversation ensued, and as it was ending John questioned Scott about turning off his cell phone.

“You never know,” he said.  “Some desperate soul just might need you,” he smiled.

Scott grimaced, reconsidered, and turned the phone onto vibrate.  Scott ran a one-man towing business, and the last thing he wanted this morning was to have to miss the service to haul someone out of a ditch, or worse, drag the shredded remains of someone’s car off of the highway.

Not five minutes passed before his cell phone vibrated.  As he walked toward the lobby to answer the call he could only think, “Full retail for this one.”

It was old Mrs. Wingate, a widow whose dilapidated jalopy was headed for the Guinness Book of World records for running long past the natural life span of any car.  Her car had broken down on her way to church, and she was stranded on the side of the road, freezing.  She was perhaps the kindliest little old lady anyone could ever hope to meet, and he could scarcely ask her to call anyone else.  After all, she and his Mom were good friends.

When he arrived, Scott could see the steam still rising from her hood.  She smiled gracefully as only a true Southern lady could, and they commiserated for a moment over her ailing car.  As he slipped a pair of coveralls over his Sunday pants and shirt, he asked her to step in front of his truck for safety’s sake.

“Why, whatever for?” she asked.  He explained how when the steel cable pulled her car up onto the flat bed of his truck there was always the possibility that it could snap, and either hurt or maybe even kill someone.

She gave a little gasp, and moved in front of the truck.  In just a few minutes her ailing car was secured, and the pair took off towards her mechanic’s shop.  Since her church was almost on the way, he asked if he could drop her off there.  She turned to him and said, “Yes, thank you.”

As he pulled up to the side door of her church to let her out, she asked, “How much do I owe you.”  He smiled, knowing that she was as poor as a church mouse.  He pointed to the church building and said, “This one’s on the House.”  She smiled that smile that only the truly thankful and relieved could smile, she put her time-worn hand on his forearm and said, “I will always pray for your safety.”

As she walked towards the church she joined some friends.  As he pulled away, he could see them clustered in that tight huddle ladies form when some news needs to be shared.  He knew he did not need to ask if she could get a ride home.  That was as given as tomorrow’s sunrise.

A year later, Scott’s Reserve Unit got called up for combat duty.  He had all the training he needed, and now it was the time to pony up.  He went through the usual tearful goodbyes with his parents and friends, and took the long grueling flight overseas.

Shortly after arriving, his unit was assigned to clear a town of “insurgents.”  With his mechanical skills, it was no surprise that he was assigned to a support group helping to maintain other vehicles in their unit.

It was not a peaceful day.  Occasionally, the distinctive clatter of AK-47s would be heard along with the blast of rocket propelled grenades.  This was usually followed by M-16 and 50 caliber machine gun fire.  It wasn’t long before his team got the call to assist a wounded humvee towards the center of town.

They quickly descended on the shot-up vehicle, and began repairs.  As they worked away it became obvious what parts and tools were needed, so Scott returned to the truck to get them.  As he rounded the back of the truck he ran face-first into a enemy soldier that had slipped up quietly.  Instantly an AK-47 was shoved into his face, and he heard the hammer of the rifle drop as the trigger was pulled.  It was the loudest sound he had ever heard in his life.  For whatever reason, the gun had not discharged, but he had heard that gun’s hammer hit steel like a blacksmith’s hammer striking an anvil.

Immediately he reacted.  With his left hand he swept the gun aside, and with his right hand slammed the heavy wrench he was carrying into the head of the enemy soldier.  The grungy, AK-47  carrying guerilla went down like a pile of rags.  Calling for help, he turned his unconscious would-be killer over to the combat troops.

He was shaking so hard he couldn’t stand up.  He sat down on the truck’s tailgate.  He could only think, “The gun should have gone off.  It should have blown my brains across the street.  I should be dead.”  But he wasn’t.

By evening, his nerves had finally settled down as much as they were going to that day.  His team had been called back to work on a downed vehicle in a well-secured area so they moved away from the fighting.  After chow the mail caught up with them.  He got two letters, and a post card.  He flipped the post card over and found that it was from that dear old soul, Mrs. Wingate.

It had only one sentence:

“I will always pray for your safety.”

He bowed his head, and quietly cried.

Science vs. God

‘Let me explain the problem science has with Jesus Christ.’ The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.

‘You’re a Christian, aren’t you, son?’

‘Yes sir,’ the student says.

‘So you believe in God?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Is God good?’

‘Sure! God’s good.’

‘Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you good or evil?’

‘The Bible says I’m evil.’

The professor grins knowingly. ‘Aha! The Bible!’ He considers for a moment.

‘Here’s one for you. Let’s say there’s a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?’

‘Yes sir, I would.’

‘So you’re good…!’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘But why not say that? You’d help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn’t.’

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. ‘He doesn’t, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?’

The student remains silent.

‘No, you can’t, can you?’ the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.

‘Let’s start again, young fella, is God good?’

‘Er…yes,’ the student says.

‘Is Satan good?’

The student doesn’t hesitate on this one. ‘No.’

‘Then where does Satan come from?’

The student : ‘From…God…’

‘That’s right. God made Satan, didn’t he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Evil’s everywhere, isn’t it? And God did make everything, correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘So who created evil?’ The professor continued, ‘If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.’

Without allowing the student to answer, the professor continues: ‘Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?’

The student: ‘Yes.’

‘So who created them?’

The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. ‘Who created them? There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized.

‘Tell me,’ he continues onto another student. ‘Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?’

The student’s voice is confident: ‘Yes, professor, I do’

The old man stops pacing. ‘Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?’

‘No sir. I’ve never seen Him’

‘Then tell us if you’ve ever heard your Jesus?’

‘No, sir, I have not.’

‘Have you ever actually felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?’

‘No, sir, I’m afraid I haven’t.’

‘Yet you still believe in him?’

‘Yes.’

‘According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn’t exist. What do you say to that, son?’

‘Nothing,’ the student replies. ‘I only have my faith.’

‘Yes, faith,’ the professor repeats. ‘And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.’

The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own. ‘Professor, is there such thing as heat?’

‘Yes,’ the professor replies. ‘There’s heat.’

‘And is there such a thing as cold?’

‘Yes, son, there’s cold too.’

‘No sir, there isn’t.’

The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain.

‘You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don’t have anything called ‘cold’. We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.’

Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.

‘What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?’

‘Yes,’ the professor replies without hesitation. ‘What is night if it isn’t darkness?’

‘You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it’s called darkness, isn’t it? That’s the meaning we use to define the word. In reality, darkness isn’t. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you?’

The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. ‘So what point are you making, young man?’

‘Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.’

The professor’s face cannot hide his surprise this time. ‘Flawed? Can you explain how?’

‘You are working on the premise of duality,’ the student explains. ‘You argue that there is life and then there’s death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can’t even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.’

‘Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?’

‘If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do’

‘Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?’

The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.

‘Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?’

The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.

‘To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.’

The student looks around the room. ‘Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor’s brain?’ The class breaks out into laughter.

‘Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor’s brain, felt the professor’s brain, touched or smelled the professor’s brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir. So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?’

Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. ‘I guess you’ll have to take it on faith.’

‘Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,’ the student continues. ‘Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?’

Now uncertain, the professor responds, ‘Of course, there is. We see it everyday. It is in the daily example of man’s inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.’

To this the student replied, ‘Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God.

God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God’s love present in his heart. It’s like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.’

The professor sat down.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved these little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 17th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

The Other Side

A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the
examination room and said, “Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what
lies on the other side.”

Very quietly, the doctor said, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the other
side?”

The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side of
which came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a
dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of
gladness.

Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog?
He’s never been in this room before. He didn’t know what was inside. He
knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened, he
sprang in without fear.

I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one

thing…I know my Master is there and that is enough.”

PACKING PARACHUTES……

Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 25 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, “You’re Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!”

“How in the world did you know that?” asked Plumb.

“I packed your parachute,” the man replied.

Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, “I guess it worked!”  Plumb assured him, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Plumb couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, “I kept wondering what he had looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said ‘Good morning, how are you?’ or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor.”

Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent at a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, “Who’s packing your parachute?”  Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. He also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory – he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.  Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate some one on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.

As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your parachutes.

And thank the Lord for sending them your way!

Pennies

You always hear the usual stories of pennies on the sidewalk being good luck, gifts from angels, etc. This gives you something more to think about.

Several years ago, a friend of mine and her husband were invited to spend the weekend at her husband’s employer’s home. My friend, Arlene, was nervous about the weekend. The boss was very wealthy, with a fine home on the waterway, and cars costing more than her own house. The first day and evening went well, and Arlene was delighted to have this rare glimpse into how the very wealthy live.

The husband’s employer was quite generous as a host, and took them to the finest restaurants. Arlene knew she would never have the opportunity to indulge in this kind of extravagance again, so was enjoying herself immensely.

As the three of them were about to enter an exclusive restaurant, the boss was walking slightly ahead of Arlene and her husband. He stopped suddenly, looking down on the pavement for a long, silent moment. Arlene wondered if she was supposed to pass him. There was nothing on the ground except a single darkened penny that someone had dropped, and a few cigarette butts. Still silent, the man reached down and picked up the penny. He held it up and smiled, then put it in his pocket as if he had found a great treasure.

How absurd! What need did this man have for a single penny? Why would he even take the time to stop and pick it up?

Throughout dinner, the entire scene nagged at her. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She casually mentioned that her daughter once had a coin collection, and asked if the penny he had found had been of some value.

A smile crept across the man’s face as he reached into his pocket for the penny and held it out for her to see. She had seen many pennies before!  What was the point of this? “Look at it.” He said. “Read what it says.”

She read the words “United States of America.”

“No, not that; read further.”

“One cent?”

“No, keep reading.”

“In God we Trust?”

“Yes!”

“And?”

“And if I trust in God, the name of God is holy, even on a coin. Whenever I find a coin I see that inscription. It is written on every single United States coin, but we never seem to notice it! God drops a message right in front of me telling me to trust Him? Who am I to pass it by?

“When I see a coin, I pray, and I stop to see if my trust IS in God at that moment. I pick the coin up as a response to God; that I do trust in Him.  For a short time, at least, I cherish it as if it were gold. I think it is God’s way of starting a conversation with me. Lucky for me, God is patient and pennies are plentiful.”

When I was out shopping today, I found a penny on the sidewalk.  I stopped and picked it up, and realized that I had been worrying and fretting in my mind about things I cannot change.  I read the words, “In God We Trust,” and had to laugh.  Yes, God, I get the message

It seems that I have been finding an inordinate number of pennies in the last few months, but then, pennies are plentiful!  And, God is patient up to a point.…..and He sent his son to die for our sins……and accepting his Son into our hearts in response to that is the most important decision that one can make on this whole planet!

Pick Thee Me Up   –   from a friend of mine.

Pick Thee Me Up.

That’s another one of Josees’ expressions.

Josees is my two-year-old son.

He doesn’t have perfect syntax. Even that simple statement  requires an ear trained in babyonics to understand.

Pick thee me up!

He says it as he stands in front of me with his outstretched  arms and a pleading in his eyes and voice.

Pick thee me up!
Pick thee me up!
Pick thee me up!

Over and over he pleads until sooner or later he’s picked up, giving both of us relief.

He is smart enough to recognize the father.  He is smart enough to know that his father can lift him out of his situation.  He is smart enough to keep pleading until his plea is heard.

Whenever he is frustrated, whenever he is afraid, whenever he feels alone, whenever he needs rest, whenever he needs, he asks his father to….”Pick thee me up.”

It is a lesson that we all would do well to learn, for we all have a heavenly father.

We all, sooner or later need to call upon him.

We all need to say. . .

Pick thee me up!

Josees was named after Joses, the brother of Jesus.

There were times when Jesus had to call on his father, and say, “Pick thee me up.”

So will you.

(1 Corinthians 6:14)   “And God hath both raised up the Lord,  and will also raise up us by his own power.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 16th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Manners

A Christian farmer spent the day in the city.

In a restaurant for his meal, he sat near a group of young men.

After he bowed his head to give thanks for his food, one of the young men thought he would embarrass the old gentleman.  “Hey, farmer, does everyone do that out where you live?”

The old man calmly replied, “No, son, the pigs don’t!”

Maple Trees

It was a cool spring night. The daily run of sap had been collected and it was time to boil it. The wood fire under the cooker had been stoked and lit.  The valve was opened and the sap began flowing down from the storage tank into the cooker. Soon the room was filled with steam and the aroma of sweet maple syrup.  The fire was carefully tended and the boiling sap carefully monitored by the watchful of eye of the sugarer. The night would not be over until the day’s collection of sap is boiled down into the smooth, sweet, maple syrup.

When the first batch finished, I was handed a small cup of the hot maple syrup right from the cooker. I sipped it with great delight, savoring the warm sweet taste – it was delicious. On this night I had the privilege of experiencing “Sugaring” in Vermont. I learned a great deal about the art.  I also had a life lesson reinforced in my heart.

The sugaring process was all very fascinating, but a couple things particularly caught my attention. Not all maple trees can be tapped.  There is a particular type of maple tree that produces the sap that can be boiled into syrup. It must also be a mature tree. The age is usually determined by the trunk’s diameter.  Though the sap is sweet, it is colorless and lacks real flavor.  The color and character (taste) come only after the sap has been boiled to just the right temperature and consistency – until it has “gone through the fire.”  I also learned that, it seems, the trees that have been injured give the sweetest sap, which boils down to the finest syrup.

As I drove home that night, fond memories of beloved saints I had met over the years came to mind. I remembered how often, when I first met them, I presumed that they must have had very carefree, trouble-less lives. They had such wonderfully sweet spirit’s.  Their joy bubbled over. Their faces glowed with Christ’s glorious presence.

As I grew to know them better, I found that my first impression was completely wrong. Their lives had known brokenness, sorrow, and pain.  Often heart wrenchingly so.  As they shared their story with me, tears would come to my eyes and I wondered how they came so beautifully, so victoriously through such suffering. 

Could it be that Christians are like maple trees? They produce the sap which brings color and taste to our world. The fires of life refine and enhance their color and character, rather than bring darkness and bitterness.  The more mature in Christ, the more robust the color and taste.

The injuries and sorrows do not bring brokenness and death, but sweeter syrup…………  “though now for a little while you have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that your faith (of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire) may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” (1 Peter 1:6-7)

Keep Close To Jesus!

Mr. Spock

I was an avid Star Trek fan during college.  I remember many of the episodes but a recent event brought one scene back.

Dr. McCoy, the Starship Enterprise’s chief medical officer, was having difficulty transporting from the surface of a planet back to the Enterprise.  For those unfamiliar with futuristic science fiction television show Star Trek, the transporter was a device that could move people electronically from place to place.

Dr. McCoy’s molecules were about to be scattered over space as the transporter began to malfunction.  Mr. Spock, the Enterprise’s science officer and bastion of logic, worked frantically at the transporter controls.

“Cross circuiting from A to B,” Spock explained to the technician standing nearby.

Slowly McCoy materialized and took solid form.

“Thank God,” McCoy uttered as he shakily but safely stepped off the transporter platform.

“I don’t know why you are giving credit to some deity, it was me cross circuiting from A to B that saved you,” Spock replied.

Thus the eternal battle between the seen and the unseen.  Between absolute logic and absolute faith.  Between what can be measured and what is immeasurable.

You can’t argue this point with observable facts.  A large percentage of folks would side with Dr. McCoy, yet a sizeable percentage would side with Mr. Spock.

We see the work of our hands that appears to produce the result.  Yet we see suffering, poverty, abuse, and other maladies that appear to be heaped upon the innocent with no rhyme or reason.

As a young scientist in college, I admired Mr. Spock’s ability to analyze things with a detached and computerized view.  Spock had all of his emotions under control.  Spock could eliminate pain by mental control.  Spock could eliminate fear and doubt by shear mind power.

I thought that I could be like Spock.  I found out that I couldn’t.

Our emotions rage.  We feel pain that we can’t stop, and fear that we can’t banish.

When our world would appear to be subject to being scattered over space and the danger alarms are going off that things have gone terribly wrong, work feverishly at the controls.

Do everything that wisdom and proper training instructs you to do and do it with all diligence. And above all else……Pray to God for wisdom, for results, and for His Will to be done.

When we have done all that we know to do and all that we can do, it usually isn’t cross circuiting to B that saves us and gives us the strength and the grace to pull things together.

There is another at the controls.

Thank God!

NAILS IN THE FENCE

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper.  His Father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence.  Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down.  He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.  Finally, the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all.

He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.

The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence.  He said, ‘You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence.  The fence will never be the same.  When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one.  You can put a knife in a man and draw it out.  But it won’t matter how many times you say I’m sorry, the wound will still be there.  A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one.

 “You are My Sunshine, My only Sunshine“

 Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in mommy’s tummy. He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.  

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required? 

Finally, after a long struggle, Michael’s little sister was born.  But she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst. Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. I want to sing to her, he kept saying.

Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over.  Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or not. If he didn’t see his sister right then, he may never see her alive.

She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket. The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, “Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed.” The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse’s face, her lips a firm line. “He is not leaving until he sings to his sister” she stated.

Then Karen towed Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing.  In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.”  Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady. “Keep on singing, Michael,” encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes. “You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.” As Michael sang to his sister, the baby’s ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten’s purr. “Keep on singing, sweetheart.” “The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms”.  Michael’s little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her. “Keep on singing, Michael.” Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t take my sunshine away…” 

The next, day…the very next day…the little girl was well enough to go home. Woman’s Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother’s Song.  The medical staff just called it a miracle.  Karen called it a miracle of God’s love.

NEVER GIVE UP ON THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE.   LOVE IS SO INCREDIBLY POWERFUL!

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 15th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

Little Ones

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, “Nothing, I just helped him cry.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Teacher Debbie Moon’s first graders were discussing a picture of a family.  One little boy in the picture had a different color hair than the other family members. One child suggested that he was adopted and a little girl said, “I know all about adoptions because I was adopted.” “What does it mean to be adopted?” asked another child. “It means,” said the girl, “that you grew in your mommy’s heart instead of her tummy.”

* * * * * * * * * *

A four year old was at the pediatrician for a check up. As the doctor looked down her ears with an otoscope, he asked, “Do you think I’ll find Big Bird in here?” The little girl stayed silent. Next, the doctor took a tongue depressor and looked down her throat. He asked, “Do you think I’ll find the Cookie Monster down there” Again, the little girl was silent. Then the doctor put a stethoscope to her chest. As he listened to her heart beat, he asked, “Do you think I’ll hear Barney in there?” “Oh, no!” the little girl replied.  “Jesus is in my heart. Barney’s on my underpants.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was. “We’re behind 14 to nothing,” he answered with a smile. “Really,” I said. “I have to say you don’t look very discouraged.”  “Discouraged?” the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face.  “Why should we be discouraged? We haven’t been up to bat yet.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Whenever I’m disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he’d set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen.. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school.  Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. “Guess what Mom,” he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me “I’ve been chosen to clap and cheer.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A lesson in “heart” is my little 10 year old daughter, Sarah, who was born with a muscle missing in her foot and wears a brace all the time. She came home one beautiful spring day to tell me she had competed in “field day.”   That’s where they have lots of races and other competitive events. Because of her leg support, my mind raced as I tried to think of encouragement for my Sarah, things I could say to her about not letting this get her down, but before I could get a word out, she said “Daddy, I won two of the races!” I couldn’t believe it! And then Sarah said, “I had an advantage.” Ah. I knew it.  I thought she must have been given a head start… some kind of physical advantage. But again, before I could say anything, she said, “Daddy, I didn’t get a head start… My advantage was I had to try harder!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, spent the day at the zoo. Lots of children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws. “You’ve got so many freckles, there’s no place to paint!” a girl in the line said to the little fella.  Embarrassed, the little boy dropped his head. His grandmother knelt down next to him. “I love your freckles. When I was a little girl I always wanted freckles,” she said, while tracing her finger across the child’s cheek.  “Freckles are beautiful!”  The boy looked up, “Really?”  “Of course,” said the grandmother. “Why just name me one thing that’s more beautiful than freckles.”   The little boy thought for a moment, peered intensely into his grandma’s face, and softly whispered, “Wrinkles.”

Living and Love

Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.  When the door of happiness closes, another opens, but often times we look so long at the closed door that we don’t see the one which has been opened for us.

The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you’ve every had.

It’s true that we don’t know what we’ve got until we lose it, but it’s also true that we don’t know what we’ve been missing until it arrives.

Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they’ll love you back!  Don’t expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart but if it doesn’t, be content it grew in yours.

It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone, but it takes a lifetime to forget someone.

Don’t go for looks; they can deceive.  Don’t go for wealth; even that fades away.  Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright.  Find the one that makes your heart smile.

There are moments in life when you miss someone so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real!

Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to make you happy.

Always put yourself in others’ shoes.  If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too.  The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.  Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss and ends with a tear.  The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past, you can’t go on well in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.  When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.  Live your life so that when you die, you’re the one who is smiling and everyone around you is smiling because they are so glad you were there.  (Romans 8:38-39)

The Big Lottery Winner

How would you feel if you won the lottery?

I mean a really big one, like 100 million or so?

Pretty good huh?

That’s what I thought.  If you won 100 million that would undoubtedly make your day.  It won’t make your life but I will admit, it will do a pretty good job of making your day.

It would be hard to convince anyone that you weren’t very fortunate if you won a big lottery.

Which prize is greater, money or life?

Do you know how many sperm are released from the average male during the act of procreation?

Approximately 300 million sperm are released.  Only one fertilizes the egg.

Each sperm will produce a different person with different characteristics.

300 million sperm compete in a race to fertilize the egg.

The one that wins makes the baby.

You won.

Out of 300 million, you won.

You got life.

Many lotteries have odds of around fifty something million to one.  You won a race with odds of 300 million to one.

You won a greater prize than money in a race with greater odds than the lottery.

You won life.

Studies have shown that most big lottery winners aren’t as happy five years later.  I have a friend that knew two people who won a 50 million dollar lottery.  I asked my friend, were your friends happier before they won or now?

My friend paused in deep thought as she compared in her mind her friends before and after their big win.

“They were happier before they won”, my friend replied.

I know countless ones that have won the prize of life.

Unfortunately, they, like the big lottery winners, often end up sad.

The thing about life. . …Not only did you win the initial race, each morning that you wake up you’ve won again.

Don’t be like the typical big lottery winner.

Celebrate the win.

Celebrate the day.

Recognize the prize.

Each day:  Live well, love much and laugh often.

Eat desert first.  Life is short!

BE HAPPY!

HOORAY FOR MAE!

One day I had a date for lunch with friends. Mae, a little old “blue hair” lady, about 85 years old, came along with them.  All in all, a pleasant bunch.

When the menus were presented, we ordered salads, sandwiches, and soups, except for Mae who said, “Ice cream, please. Two scoops.”

I wasn’t sure my ears heard right, and the others were aghast. “Along with warm apple pie,” Mae added, completely unabashed. We tried to act quite nonchalant, as if people did this all the time. But when our orders were brought out, I didn’t enjoy mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mae as her pie a-la-mode went down. The other ladies showed dismay. They ate their lunches silently and frowned.

The next time I went out to eat, I called and invited Mae. I lunched on white meat tuna. She ordered a parfait. I smiled. She asked if she amused me. I answered, “Yes, you do, but also you confuse me. How come you order rich desserts, while I feel I must be sensible?”

She laughed and said, with wanton mirth, “I’m tasting all that’s possible. I try to eat the food I need, and do the things I should. But life’s so short, my friend, I hate missing out on something good. This year I realized how old I am.”  She grinned, “I haven’t been this old before. So, before I die, I’ve got to try those things that for years I had ignored.”

“I haven’t smelled all the flowers yet. There are too many books I haven’t read. There’s more fudge sundaes to wolf down and kites to be flown overhead. There are many malls I haven’t shopped. I’ve not laughed at all the jokes.  I’ve missed a lot of Broadway hits and potato chips and cokes. I want to wade again in water and feel ocean spray on my face. I want to sit in a country church once more and thank God for His grace.

“I want peanut butter every day spread on my morning toast. I want un-timed long distance calls to the folks I love the most. I haven’t cried at all the movies yet, or walked in the morning rain. I need to feel wind in my hair. I want to fall in love again.  So, if I choose to have dessert, instead of having dinner, then should I die before night fall, I’d say I died a winner, because I missed out on nothing. I filled my heart’s desire. I had that final chocolate mousse before my life expired.”

With that, I called the waitress over. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “I want what she is having, only add some more whipped cream!”

Live well, love much and laugh often.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 14th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

God Still Answers

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible study.  The pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord’s voice.

The young man couldn’t help but wonder, “Does God still speak to people?”

After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.

It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home.  Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, “God, if you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen.  I will do my best to obey.”

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, “God is that you?” He didn’t get a reply and started on toward home. But again, the thought, “buy a gallon of milk.”

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn’t recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.  “Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.”

It didn’t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk.

He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, “Turn down that street.”

“This is crazy,” he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street. At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.  Half jokingly, he said out loud, “Okay, God I will.”

He drove several blocks when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around.  He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, “Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.” The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep.

He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. “Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.” Again, he felt like he should go and give them the milk.

Finally, he opened the door. “Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something, but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.”

He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man’s voice yelled out, “Who is it?  What do you want?”

Then the door opened before the young man could get away.  The man was standing there in his jeans and a t-shirt.  He looked like he had just gotten out of bed. He had a strange look on his face, and he didn’t seem too happy to have a stranger standing on his doorstep.

“What is it?”  The young man thrust out the gallon of milk.  “Here I brought this to you.”

The man took the milk and rushed down the hallway, speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby.

The baby was crying.  The man had tears streaming down his face.  The man began speaking and half-crying, “We were just praying.  We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby.  I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.”

His wife in the kitchen yelled out, “I asked him to send an Angel with some milk.  Are you an Angel?”

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man’s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.

He knew now that God still answers prayers!

“Stop telling God how big your storm is.  Instead, tell the storm how big your God is!”

God answers but usually it is through an obedient servant.

We must realize that often the servant is sent to us to answer our prayers, but more often, ……we are the servant that is sent.

INFORMATION PLEASE

When I was very young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood.  I remember well, the polished old case fastened to the wall and the shiny receiver on the side of the box.  I was too little to reach the telephone but used to listen with fascination when my mother would talk to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person and her name was  “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know.  “Information Please” could supply anybody’s number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.  Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer.  The pain was terrible but there didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give me sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.  The telephone!  Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and held it to my ear.

“Information Please,” I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.  A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

“Information.”

“I hurt my finger,” I wailed into the phone.  The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.  “Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.  “Nobody’s home but me,” I blubbered.  “Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.  “No,” I replied.  “I hit my finger with a hammer and it hurts.”

“Can you open your icebox?” she asked.  I said I could.  “Then chip off a piece of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.

After that, I called “Information Please” for everything.  I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was.  She helped me with my math.  She told me that my pet chipmunk, which I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then there was the time Petey, our pet canary died.  I called “Information Please” and told her the sad story.  She listened, then said the usual thing grown- ups say to soothe a child.  But, I was inconsolable.

I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?”   She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “You must remember that there are other worlds to sing in.”  Somehow, I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone.  “Information Please. “Information,” said the now familiar voice.  “How do you spell fix?” I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston.  I missed my friend very much.  “Information Please” belonged in that old wooden box back home and some-how I never thought of trying the tall, new shiny phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.  Often in moments of doubt and perplexity, I would recall the serene sense of security I had then.

I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle.  I had about half-an-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister who lived there now.  Then, without thinking about what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, “Information Please.”

Miraculously, I heard the small clear voice I knew so well.  “Information.”  I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?”

There was a long pause.

Then came the soft-spoken answer, “I guess your finger must be healed by now.”  I laughed, “So it’s really still you,” I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?”

“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me.  I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.”  I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

“Please do,” she said.  “Just ask for Sally.”

Three months later, I was back in Seattle.  A different voice answered,  “Information.”  I asked for Sally.

“Are you a friend?” she said.

“Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said.  “Sally had been working part time in the last few years because she was sick.  She died five weeks ago.”

Before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute.  Are you Paul?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Sally left a message for you.  She wrote it down in case you called when she was too sick to work.  Let me read it to you.” The note said,  “Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in.  He’ll know what I mean.”

I thanked her and hung up.  I knew what Sally meant.  Never underestimate the impression you make on others and the influence you may have with them.

Just Float……A True Story

It was spring in South Africa and I was working in my garden.

I noticed that a little dove had fallen from its nest and into our swimming pool.  The bird was still alive, but only just.

It had been in the pool a long time.  Its feet were stiff from the cold and its little neck just hung limp.  I took it out of the pool not really knowing what to do.

Instinct jumped in.  I wrapped the bird in a towel and blew softly into the towel to warm it up.  A couple of hours later, the little bird made a full recovery.

As I was sitting and looking at this bird, I realized that when I found it in the pool, it was just floating.  Had the little bird spluttered and flapped, it would have tired itself out.  Its feathers would have become completely water-logged and it would have drowned.  Instead, it just floated.

The lesson I learned is this: When I am in a situation that I can not handle,  I too should “float” instead of flapping and splashing around, making my situation even worse for myself and all around me…..leading to anger.  I should “float” in the arms of the Everlasting Father who always will carry me and rescue me.  Through His Son, He promised me this……and He can not lie.

A Little Ice Cream     (This Really Happened)

Last week I took my children to a restaurant.

My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace.

As we bowed our heads he said, “God is good. God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all!  Amen!”

Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, I heard a woman remark, “That’s what’s wrong with this country.  Kids today don’t even know how to pray.  Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!”

Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me, “Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?” As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at my son and said, “I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer.”

“Really?” my son asked.

“Cross my heart,” the man replied.  Then in a theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), “too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes.”

Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal.

My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I will remember the rest of my life.

He picked up his sundae and without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman.

With a big smile he told her, “Here, this is for you.  Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes, and my soul is good already.”

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience.…..https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 13th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

An Eye Witness Account from New York City, on a cold day in December some years ago:

A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on the sidewalk, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.

A lady approached the boy and said, “My, but you are in such deep thought staring in that window!”

“I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,” was the boy’s reply.

The lady took him by the hand and went into the store and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy.  She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel.

He quickly brought them to her.

She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel.

By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy’s feet, she purchased him a nice pair of shoes. She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, “No doubt, you will be more comfortable now”.

As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face……..with tears in his eyes, asked her .…..

“Are you God’s Wife?”

Heaven vs Hell

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, ‘Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.’

The Lord led the holy man to two doors.

He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.  In the middle of the room was a large round table.  In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water.

The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly.  They appeared to be famished.  They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful.  But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.

The Lord said, ‘You have seen Hell.’

They went to the next room and opened the door.  It was exactly the same as the first one.  There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man’s mouth water.  

The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.  The holy man said, ‘I don’t understand.’

‘It is simple’, said the Lord.  ‘It requires but one skill.  You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.’

When Jesus died on the cross, he was thinking of you.

A True Story of a High School Student:

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school.

His name was Kyle.

It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.”

I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt.

His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.

As I handed him his glasses, I said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.:

He looked at me and said, “Hey thanks!” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before.

He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books.

He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends. He said yes.

We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!” He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends.. When we were seniors we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem.

He was going to be a doctor and I was going for business on a football scholarship.

Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd.

He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak.

Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses.

He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him. Boy, sometimes I was jealous! Today was one of those days.

I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!”

He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. ” Thanks,” he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began: “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach…but mostly your friends…I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.”

I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.

He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”

I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.

I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it’s depth.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life. For better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other’s lives to impact one another in some way.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is a 12th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

A Glass of Milk – a true story about Dr. Howard Kelly

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk.

He drank it slowly, and then asked, How much do I owe you?” You don’t owe me anything,” she replied. “Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness.”  He said….. “Then I thank you from my heart.”

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was stronger also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Many year’s later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

Dressed in his doctor’s gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case. After a long struggle, the battle was won.

Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she had no insurance and was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words….

“Paid in full with one glass of milk”

(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: “Thank You, God, that Your love has spread abroad through human hearts and hands.”

There’s a saying which goes something like this:
“Cast your bread upon the waters and in due time, it shall come back to you.”  The good deed you do today may benefit you or someone you love at the least expected time. If you never see the deed again at least you will have made the world a better place. And, after all, isn’t that what life in God’s way is all about?

{Dr. Howard Kelly is one of the four founding doctors of Johns Hopkins, the first medical research university in the U.S.}

Four (4) lessons to make you think about the way we treat people:

1 – First Important Lesson – Cleaning Lady.

During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and         had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:

“What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?”

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name?

I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say “hello.”

I’ve never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

2. – Second Important Lesson – Pickup in the Rain

One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.  Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.  A young white man stopped to help her, generally
unheard of in those conflict-filled 60s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.

She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man’s door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached..

It read:  “Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.  Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away… God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.”

Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.

3 – Third Important Lesson – Always remember those who serve.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.

“How much is an ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.  “Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.

“Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins.  “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table.

There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..

You see, he couldn’t have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.


4 – Fourth Important Lesson – Giving When it Counts…

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her onlychance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed theantibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes I’ll do it if it will save her.” As the transfusion progressed, he lay inbed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.

He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, “Will I start to die right away”.

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.

Finding God

Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy: Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith.

That was the day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under “S” for strange… Very strange.  

Tommy turned out to be the “atheist in residence” in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, “Do you think I’ll ever find God?” I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. “No!” I said very emphatically. “Why not,” he responded, “I thought that was the product you were pushing.”

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out, “Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!” He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line — He will find you!  At least I thought it was clever.  Later, I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful.

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

 “Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often; I hear you are sick,” I blurted out.

“Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks.”   

“Can you talk about it, Tom?” I asked. “Sure, what would you like to know?” he replied. “What’s it like to be only twenty-four and dying?” “Well, it could be worse.” “Like what?” “Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life..”

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under “S” where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)

“But what I really came to see you about,” Tom said, “is something you said to me on the last day of class.” (He remembered!)

 He continued, “I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised me. Then you said, ‘But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My clever line. He thought about that a lot!)

“But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that’s when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out.

In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

“Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who I thought may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn’t really care about God, about an after life, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable.

I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.'”

“So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. “Dad.” “Yes, what?” he asked without lowering the newspaper. “Dad, I would like to talk with you.” “Well, talk.” “I mean. It’s really important.”

The newspaper came down three slow inches. “What is it?” “Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that.”

Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. “The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me.”

“It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years.

“I was only sorry about one thing — that I had waited so long. Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

“Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, ‘C’mon, jump through. C’mon, I’ll give you three days, three weeks.'”

“Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour. But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him.”

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

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

“Oooh.. I was ready for you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for your class.” “Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call.”

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class.

Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time.

“I’m not going to make it to your class,” he said.

“I know, Tom.” “Will you tell them for me? Will you … tell the whole world for me?”

I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best.”

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God’s love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven — I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two. It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes. With thanks, Rev. John Powell, Professor, Loyola University, Chicago.

If you would like to watch a wonderful, life changing movie, get yourself all prepared with the time to watch a full length movie, and then go to this site and be ready for a life changing experience. .…………….. https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html

如果您想观看一部精彩的、改变生活的电影，请准备好观看一部完整电影的时间，然后访问这个网站，为改变生活的体验做好准备………..…………https://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/chinese-mandarin.html

For the last 20 years I have presented the Gospel to each new youth at the highly secure prison for the kids ages 13 to 19 at Gainesville, Texas.  It is the first time that most any of them have stopped “running on the streets” and had the time to think about their life.  Most every one made a decision to make God part of their life.  After our hour+ together I would write each one a letter.  As a result I corresponded more with many of them.  And in each letter I would enclose a group of short stories or poems.  They really liked them, especially those with an emotional message.  You probably would not believe how many locked-up prison boys have loved theses little stories, and read them over and over.

In my soon to be published book I enclosed a long list of those short stories in the Appendix.  Since the prison boys liked them so much, I thought you may like to see some of them.  So, here is an 11th group of them for you.  And you are welcome to share them with others.

Ron

The True Story of Dr. Stoddard – Alumnus of the University of Texas at Austin

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard 

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big ‘F’ at the top of his papers. 

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.  

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners …. He is a joy to be around.

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

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

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

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, ‘Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.’ 

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher’s pets.’ 

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

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

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

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

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married.  He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. 

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

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, ‘Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.’ 

(For you that don’t know, Teddy Stoddard is the Doctor at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that bears the name, The Stoddard Cancer Center.)

An Elf’s Tale

By Tyree Dillingham

It was six o’clock at the mall, and I was as exhausted as an elf on Christmas Eve.  In fact, I was an elf and it was Christmas Eve.  That December of my sixteenth year, 1995, I’d been working two jobs to help my parents with my school tuition and to make a little extra holiday money.  My second job was as an elf for Santa to help with kids’ photos.  Between my two jobs, I’d worked twelve hours straight the day before; on Christmas Eve, things were so busy at Santaland that I hadn’t even had a coffee break all day.  But this was it – only minutes more, and I’d have survived!

I looked over at Shelly, our manager, and she gave me an encouraging smile.  She was the reason I’d made it through.  She’d been thrown in as manager halfway through the season, and she’d made all the difference in the world.  My job had changed from stress-filled to challenging.  Instead of yelling at her workers to keep us in line, she encouraged us and stood behind us.  She made us pull together as a team.  Especially when things were their craziest, she always had a smile and an encouraging word. Under her leadership, we’d achieved the highest number of mall photo sales in California.

I knew it was a difficult holiday season for her – she’d recently suffered a miscarriage.  I hoped she knew how great she was and what a difference she’d made to all her workers, and to all the little children who’d come to have their pictures taken.

Our booth was open until seven; at six things started to slow down and I finally took a break.  Although I didn’t have much money, I really wanted to buy a little gift for Shelly so that she’d know we appreciated her.  I got to a store that sold soap and lotion just as they put the grate down.  “Sorry, we’re closed!” barked the clerk, who looked as tired as I was and didn’t sound sorry at all.

I looked around and, to my dismay, found that all the stores had closed.  I’d been so tired I hadn’t noticed.

I was really bummed.  I had been working all day and had missed buying her a present by one minute.

On my way back to the Santa booth, I saw that Nordstrom was still open.  Fearful that they, too, would close at any moment, I hurried inside and followed the signs toward the Gift Gallery.  As I rushed through the store, I began to feel very conspicuous.  It seemed the other shoppers were all very well-dressed and wealthy – and here I was a broke teenager in an elf costume.  ‘How could I even think I’d find something in such a posh store for fewer than fifteen dollars?’

I self-consciously jingled my way into the Gift Gallery.  A woman sales associate, who also looked as if she’d just stepped off a fashion runway, came over and asked if she could help me.  As she did, everyone in the department turned and stared.

As quietly as possible, I said, “No, that’s okay.  Just help somebody else.”

She looked right at me and smiled.  “No,” she said.  “I want to help you.”

I told the woman who I was buying for and why, then I sheepishly admitted I only had fifteen dollars to spend.  She looked as pleased and thoughtful as if I’d just asked to spend $1,500.  By now, the department had emptied, but she carefully went around, selecting a few things that would make a nice basket.  The total came to $14.09.

The store was closing; as she rang up the purchase, the lights were turned off.

I was thinking that if I could take them home and wrap them, I could make them really pretty but I didn’t have time.

As if reading my mind, the saleslady asked, “Do you need this wrapped?”

=”Yes,” I said.

By now the store was closed.  Over the intercom, a voice asked if there were still customers in the store.  I knew this woman was probably as eager to get home on Christmas Eve as everybody else, and here she was stuck waiting on some kid with a measly purchase.

But she was gone in the back room a long time.  When she returned, she brought out the most beautiful basket I’d ever seen.  It was all wrapped up in silver and gold, and looked as if I’d spent fifty dollars on it – at least.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was so happy!

When I thanked her, she said, “You elves are out in the mall spreading joy to so many people, I just wanted to bring a little joy to you.”

“Merry Christmas, Shelly,” I said back at the booth. 

My manager gasped when she saw the present; she was so touched and happy that she started crying.  I hoped it gave a happy start to her Christmas.

All through the holidays I couldn’t stop thinking about the kindness and effort of the saleswoman, and how much joy she had brought to me, and in turn to my manager.  I thought the least I could do was to write a letter to the store and let them know about it.  About a week later, I got a reply from the store, thanking me for writing.

I thought that was the end of it, until mid-January.

That’s when I got a call from Stephanie, the sales associate.  She wanted to take me to lunch.  Me, a fifteen-dollar, sixteen-year-old customer.

When we met, Stephanie gave me a hug, and a present, and told me this story.

She had walked into a recent employee meeting to find herself on the list of nominees to be named the Nordstrom All-Star.  She was confused but excited, as she had never before been nominated.  At the point in the meeting when the winner was announced, they called Stephanie – she’d won!  When she went up front to accept the award, her manager read my letter out loud.  Everyone gave her a huge round of applause.

Winning meant that her picture was put up in the store lobby, she got new business cards with Nordstrom All-Star written on them, a 14-karat gold pin, a 100-dollar award, and was invited to represent her department at the regional meeting.

At the regional meeting, they read my letter and everyone gave Stephanie a standing ovation.  “This is what we want all of our employees to be like!” said the manager who read the letter.  She got to meet three of the Nordstrom brothers, who were each very complimentary.

I was already a little overwhelmed when Stephanie took my hand.  “But that’s not the best part, Tyree,” she said.  “The day of that first store meeting, I took a list of the nominees, and put your letter behind it, with the 100- dollar bill behind that.  I took it home and gave it to my father.  He read everything and looked at me and said, “When do you find out who won?”

“I said, ‘I won, Dad.’

“He looked me right in the eye and said, ‘Stephanie, I’m really proud of you.'”

Quietly, she said, “My dad has never said he was proud of me.”

I think I’ll remember that moment all my life.  That was when I realized what a powerful gift appreciation can be.  Shelly’s appreciation of her workers had set into motion a chain of events – Stephanie’s beautiful basket, my letter, Nordstrom’s award – that had changed at least three lives.

Though I’d heard it all my life, it was the Christmas when I was an elf – and a broke teenager – that I truly came to understand that the littlest things can make the biggest difference.

Enough

At an airport I overheard a father and daughter in their last momentstogether. They had announced her plane’s departure and standing near the door, he said to his daughter, “I love you, I wish you enough”. She said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy.” They kissed good-bye and she left.

He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?”  “Yes, I have,” I replied.  Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.  So I knew what this man was experiencing.

“Forgive me for asking, but why is this forever good-bye?” I asked.  “I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, her next trip back will be for my funeral, he said.

“When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough.’  May I ask what that means?”  He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents, Godly folks, used to say it to everyone.”

He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more.  “When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled by God with enough good things to sustain them,” he continued and then, turning toward me, he shared the following, reciting it from memory:

“From God’s Spirit I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright. I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more. I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive. I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger. I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting. I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess. I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Good-bye.”

He then began to cry and walked away.

My friend reading this, I wish you ENOUGH!!!

A Story about Edith

Edith Burns was a wonderful Christian who lived in San Antonio, Texas.  She was the patient of a doctor by the name of Will Phillips.  Dr. Phillips was a gentle doctor who saw patients as people.  His favorite patient was Edith Burns.

One morning he went to his office with a heavy heart and it was because of Edith Burns.  When he walked into that waiting room, there sat Edith with her big black Bible in her lap earnestly talking to a young mother sitting beside her.

Edith Burns had a habit of introducing herself in this way: “Hello, my name is Edith Burns.  Do you believe in Easter?”  Then she would explain the meaning of Easter, and many times people would be saved into Heaven.

Dr. Phillips walked into that office and there he saw the head nurse, Beverly.  Beverly had first met Edith when she was taking her blood pressure.  Edith began by saying, “My name is Edith Burns.  Do you believe in Easter?”

Beverly said, “Why yes I do.” Edith said, “Well, what do you believe about Easter?”  Beverly said, “Well, it’s all about egg hunts, going to church, and dressing up.”

Edith kept pressing her about the real meaning of Easter, and finally led her to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

Dr. Phillips said, “Beverly, don’t call Edith into the office quite yet.  I believe there is another delivery taking place in the waiting room.

After being called back in the doctor’s office, Edith sat down and when she took a look at the doctor she said, “Dr. Will, why are you so sad?  Are you reading your Bible?  Are you praying?”

Dr. Phillips said gently, “Edith, I’m the doctor and you’re the patient.”  With a heavy heart he said, “Your lab report came back and it says you have cancer, and Edith, you’re not going to live very long.”

Edith said, “Why, Will Phillips, shame on you.  Why are you so sad?  Do you think God makes mistakes?  You have just told me I’m going to see my precious Lord Jesus, my husband, and my friends.  You have just told me that I am going to celebrate Easter forever, and here you are having difficulty giving me my ticket!”

Dr. Phillips thought to himself, “What a magnificent woman this Edith Burns is!”  Edith continued coming to Dr. Phillips.  Christmas came and the office was closed through January 3^rd.

On the day the office opened, Edith did not show up.  Later that afternoon, Edith called Dr. Phillips and said she would have to be moving her story to the hospital and said, “Dr. Will, I’m very near home, so would you make sure that they put women in here next to me in my room who need to know about Easter.”

Well, they did just that and women began to come in and share that room with Edith.  Many women were saved.  Everybody on that floor from staff to patients were so excited about Edith, that they started calling her Edith Easter; that is everyone except Phyllis Cross, the head nurse.

Phyllis made it plain that she wanted nothing to do with Edith because she was a “religious nut”.  She had been a nurse in an army hospital.  She had seen it all and heard it all.  She was the original G.I. Jane.  She had been married three times, she was hard, cold, and did everything by the book.

One morning the two nurses who were to attend to Edith were sick.  Edith had the flu and Phyllis Cross had to go in and give her a shot.  When she walked in, Edith had a big smile on her face and said, “Phyllis, God loves you and I love you, and I have been praying for you.”

Phyllis Cross said, “Well, you can quit praying for me, it won’t work, I’m not interested.”  Edith said, “Well, I will pray and I have asked God not to let me go home until you come into the family.”

Phyllis Cross said, “Then you will never die because that will never happen,” and curtly walked out of the room.

Every day Phyllis Cross would walk into the room and Edith would say, “God loves you Phyllis and I love you, and I’m praying for you.”

One day Phyllis Cross said she was literally drawn to Edith’s room like a magnet would draw iron.  She sat down on the bed and Edith said, “I’m so glad you have come, because God told me that today is your special day.”

Phyllis Cross said, “Edith, you have asked everybody here the question, ‘Do you believe in Easter?’ but you have never asked me.”

Edith said, “Phyllis, I wanted too many times, but God told me to wait until you asked, and now that you have asked…” Edith Burns took her Bible and shared with Phyllis Cross the Easter Story of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Edith said, “Phyllis, do you believe in Easter?  Do you believe that Jesus Christ is alive and that He wants to live in your heart?”

Phyllis Cross said, “Oh I want to believe that with all of my heart, and I do want Jesus in my life.”  Right there, Phyllis Cross prayed and invited Jesus Christ into her heart.  For the first time Phyllis Cross did not walk out of a hospital room, she was carried out on the wings of angels.

Two days later, Phyllis Cross came in and Edith said, “Do you know what day it is?” Phyllis Cross said, “Why Edith, its Good Friday.”

Edith said, “Oh, no, for you every day is Easter.  Happy Easter Phyllis!”

Two days later, on Easter Sunday, Phyllis Cross came into work, did some of her duties and then went down to the flower shop and got some Easter lilies because she wanted to go up to see Edith and give her some Easter lilies and wish her a Happy Easter.

When she walked into Edith’s room, Edith was in bed.  That big black Bible was on her lap.  Her hands were in that Bible.  There was a sweet smile on her face.  When Phyllis Cross went to pick up Edith’s hand, she realized Edith was dead.

Her right hand was on John 14, “In my Father’s house are many mansions.  I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also.”

Phyllis Cross took one look at that dead body, and then lifted her face toward heaven, and with tears streaming down here cheeks, said, “Happy Easter, Edith – Happy Easter!”

Phyllis Cross left Edith’s body, walked out of the room, and over to a table where two student nurses were sitting.  She said, “My name is Phyllis Cross.  Do you believe in Easter?”

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