statue currently stands outside the Iraqi palace, now home to the
4th Infantry division. It will eventually be shipped home and put in the
memorial museum in Fort Hood
statue was created by an Iraqi artist named Kalat, who for years was
forced by Saddam Hussein to make the many hundreds of bronze busts of
Saddam that dotted Baghdad.
was so grateful for the Americans liberation of his country; he melted 3
of the heads of the fallen Saddam and made the statue as a
memorial to the American soldiers and their fallen warriors. Kalat
worked on this memorial night and day for several months.
the left of the kneeling soldier is a small Iraqi girl giving the
soldier comfort as he mourns the loss of his comrade in arms.
you know why we don't hear about this in the news?
Because it is
heart warming and praise worthy. The media
avoids it because it
does not have the shock effect that a flashed
breast or controversy of
politics does. But we can do something
about it. We can share this
with as many people as we can in
honor of all our brave military who is making a
The Story of Edith Burns
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.
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
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
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? Y ou 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
Edith continued coming to Dr. Phillips. Christmas came and the office
Was closed through January 3rd. 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, "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
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
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 to 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
Two days later, Phyllis Cross came in and Edith said, "Do you know what
day it is?" Phyllis Cross said, "Why Edith, it's Good Friday."
Edith said, "Oh, no, for you every day is Easter. Happy Easter
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 left hand was on John 14: "In my Father's
house are many mansions. I go to prepare a plac e for you, I will come
again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be
also." Her right hand was on Revelation 21:4, "And God will wipe away
every tear from their eyes, there shall be no more death nor sorrow, nor
crying; and there shall be no more pain, for the former things have
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!"
Choices We Make
is no way for me to verify the validity of this story. Still, it warmed my
a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning
disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would
never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its
dedicated staff, he offered a question:
When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done
with perfection. Yet my son, Shay,
cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other
children do. Where
is the natural order of things in my son? The audience was stilled
by the query.
The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally
and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true
human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that
Then he told the following story:
Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing
baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of
the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I
also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a
much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in
spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay
could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six
runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and
we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning..'
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team
shirt... I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys
saw my joy at my son being accepted.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still
behind by three. In the top of the
ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no
hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the
field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base
and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the
Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all
but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much
less connect with the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the
other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a
few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.
The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.
As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball
right back to the pitcher. The game
would now be over.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to
the first baseman.
Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head,
out of reach of all teammates.
Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!
Run to first!' Never in his
life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.
He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second,
gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.
By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball. The
smallest guy on their team, who now had his first chance to be the hero for his
He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he
understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball
high and far over the third-baseman's head.
Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the
bases toward home. All were
screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by
turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on
their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the
grand slam and won the game for his team
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the
boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this
Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never
forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his
Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
Paul Harvey (?)
I was told this was from Paul Harvey, but I'm not sure. Either way, I hope
you enjoy it.
tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my
grandchildren, I'd like better. I'd really like for them to know about hand me down
clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really
hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being
hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car.
I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.
will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put
hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in.
hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother or sister. And it's
all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when they
want to crawl under the covers with you because they are scared, I hope you let
you want to see a movie and your little brother or sister wants to tag along, I
hope you'll let 'em.
I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and
that you live in a town where you can do it safely.
rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your driver to
drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone as un-cool as
you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of
hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books.
you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your
hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a boy or
girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what ivory soap
you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and stick your
tongue on a frozen flagpole.
don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if a
friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize they are not your friend.
sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma or Grandpa and go
fishing with your Uncle.
you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays.
hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through your neighbor's
window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Hanukah or Christmas time when
you give her a plaster mold of your hand.
things I wish for you - tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness.
To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.
with a pen. Sealed with a kiss. I'm here for you. And if I die before you do,
I'll go to heaven and wait for you.
secure our friends, not by accepting favors, but by doing them.
asked this riddle, 80% of kindergarten kids got the answer, compared to 17% of
is greater than God, More evil than the devil, The poor have it, The rich need
it, And if you eat it, you will die?
If you can not get the answer, send an email request to Rabbit. He will
send it to you.
A man and his dog were walking along a road The
man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was
dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been
dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone
wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a
long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that
looked like mother-of- pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like
pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw
a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out,
"Excuse me, where are we? "This is Heaven, sir," the man
answered. "Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man
asked. "Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water
brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?"
the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept
The man thought a moment and then turned back
toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of
another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that
looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he
approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a
book. "Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any
water?" "Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.
"How about my friend here?" the
traveler gestured to the dog. "There
should be a bowl by the pump." They went through the
gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside
it. The traveler filled the water bowl for the dog and took a long drink
himself. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man
who was standing by the tree.
"What do you call this place?" the
traveler asked. "This is Heaven," he answered. "Well,
that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that
was Heaven, too." "Oh, you mean the place with the gold
street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell." "Doesn't it
make you mad for them to use your name like that?" "No, we're
just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends
You are all welcome at my water bowl anytime!
had been a very long night. Our black Cocker spaniel Precious was having a
difficult delivery. I lay on the floor beside her large four-foot square cage,
watching her every movement. Watching and waiting, just in case I had to rush
her to the veterinarian.
After six hours the puppies started to appear. The first-born was black and
white. The second and third puppies were tan and brown in color. The fourth and
fifth were also spotted black and white. "One, two, three, four,
five," I counted to myself as I walked down the hallway to wake my wife,
Judy, and tell her that everything was fine.
As we walked back down the hallway and into the spare bedroom, I noticed a sixth
puppy had been born and was now laying all by itself over to the side of the
cage. I picked up the small puppy and laid it on top of the large pile of
puppies, who were whining and trying to nurse on the mother. Precious
immediately pushed the small puppy away from rest of the group. She refused to
recognize it as a member of her family.
"Something's wrong," said Judy.
I reached over and picked up the puppy. My heart sank inside my chest when I saw
the little puppy had a cleft lip and palate and could not close its little
mouth. I decided right there and then that if there was any way to save this
animal I was going to give it my best shot.
I took the puppy to the vet and was told nothing could be done unless we were
willing to spend about a thousand dollars to try and correct the defect. He told
us that the puppy would die mainly because it could not suckle. After returning
home, Judy and I decided that we could not afford to spend that kind of money
without getting some type of assurance from the vet that the puppy had a chance
to live. However, that did not stop me from purchasing a syringe and feeding the
puppy by hand. Which I did every day and night, every two hours, for more than
ten days. The little puppy survived and learned to eat on his own as long as it
was soft canned food.
The fifth week I placed an ad in the newspaper, and within a week we had people
interested in all of the pups, except the one with the deformity. Late one
afternoon I went to the store to pick up a few groceries. Upon returning I
happened to see the old retired schoolteacher, who lived across the street from
us, waving at me. She had read in the paper that we had puppies and was
wondering if she might get one from us for her grandson and his family. I told
her all the puppies had found homes, but I would keep my eyes open for anyone
else who might have an available cocker spaniel. I also mentioned that if
someone should change their mind, I would let her know. Within days, all but one
of the puppies had been picked up by their new families. This left me with one
brown and tan cocker as well as the smaller puppy with the cleft lip and palate.
Two days passed without me hearing anything from the gentleman who had been
promised the tan and brown pup. I telephoned the schoolteacher and told her I
had one puppy left and that she was welcome to come and look at it. She advised
me that she was going to pick up her grandson and would come over at about eight
o'clock that evening.
That night at around seven-thirty, Judy and I were eating supper when we heard a
knock on the front door. When I opened the door, the man who had wanted the tan
and brown pup was standing there. We walked inside, took care of the adoption
details and I handed him the puppy. Judy and I did not know what we would do or
say when the teacher showed up with her grandson. At exactly eight o'clock the
doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there was the schoolteacher with her
grandson standing behind her. I explained to her the man had come for the puppy
after all, and there were no puppies left. "I'm sorry, Jeffery. They found
homes for all the puppies," she told her grandson.
Just at that moment, the small puppy left in the bedroom began to yelp.
"My puppy! My puppy!" yelled the little boy as he ran out from behind
I just about fell over when I saw that the small child also had a cleft lip and
palate. The boy ran past me as fast as he could, down the hallway to where the
puppy was still yelping. When the three of us made it to the bedroom, the small
boy was holding the puppy in his arms. He looked up at his grandmother and said,
"Look, Grandma. They found homes for all the puppies except the pretty one,
and he looks just like me."
The schoolteacher turned to us, "Is this puppy available?"
"Yes," I answered. "That puppy is available."
The little boy, who was now hugging the puppy, chimed in, "My grandma told
me these kind of puppies are real expensive and that I have to take real good
care of it."
The lady opened her purse, but I reached over and pushed her hand back down into
her purse so that she would not pull her wallet out. "How much do you think
this puppy is worth?" I asked the boy. "About a dollar?"
"No. This puppy is very, very expensive," he replied.
"More than a dollar?" I asked.
"I'm afraid so," said his grandmother.
The boy stood there pressing the small puppy against his cheek. "We could
not possibly take less than two dollars for this puppy," Judy said,
squeezing my hand. "Like you said, it's the pretty one."
The schoolteacher took out two dollars and handed it to the young boy.
"It's your dog now, Jeffery. You pay the man."
Still holding the puppy tightly, the boy proudly handed me the money. Any
worries I'd had about the puppy's future were gone.
The image of the little boy and his matching pup stays with me still. I think it
must be a wonderful feeling for any young person to look at themselves in the
mirror and see nothing, except "the pretty one."
The Homeless Guy 1
sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the
corner of the towns-square. The food and the company were both especially good
that day. As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street.
There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly
goods on his back. He was carrying a well-worn sign that read, "I will work
for food." My heart sank. I brought him to the attention of my friends and
noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in
a mixture of sadness and disbelief. We continued with our meal, but his image
lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had
errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them.
I glanced toward the
town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was
fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response.
I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a
store and got back in my car.
Deep within me, the
Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until
you've at least driven once more around the square." And so, with some
hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner, I saw
him. He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through his
sack. I stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting
to drive on.
The empty parking
space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I
pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor. "Looking for
the pastor?" I asked.
really," he replied, "just resting."
"Have you eaten
"Oh, I ate
something early this morning."
"Would you like
to have lunch with me?"
"Do you have
some work I could do for you?"
I replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take
you to lunch."
replied with a smile.
As he began to
gather his things, I asked some surface questions.
"Oh, all over;
you been walking?"
years," came the reply.
I knew I had met
someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left
earlier. His face was weathered
slightly beyond his 38 years. His
eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that
was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that
said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."
Then Daniel's story
began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong
choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while
backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried
to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A
concert, he thought. He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert
but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly.
He gave his life
over to God. "Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt
the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."
"Ever think of
stopping?" I asked.
"Oh, once in a
while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this
calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food
and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."
I sat amazed. My
homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way
by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked:
"What's it like?"
"To walk into a
town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?"
"Oh, it was
humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed
a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me
feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me
to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me."
My concept was
changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the
door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come Ye blessed of my Father
and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me
food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in."
I felt as if we were
on holy ground. "Could you use another Bible?" I asked.
He said he preferred
a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his
personal favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he said.
"I'm not sure
we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see." I was
able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very
grateful. "Where you headed from here?"
"Well, I found
this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon."
"Are you hoping
to hire on there for awhile?"
"No, I just
figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a
Bible, so that's where I'm going next."
He smiled, and the
warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to
the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started
raining. We parked and unloaded his things.
"Would you sign
my autograph book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from
folks I meet."
I wrote in his
little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my life. I encouraged
him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from
Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you," declared the Lord,
"plans to prosper you and not to harm you.
Plans to give you a future and a hope."
man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just strangers,
but I love you."
I said, "I love you, too."
"The Lord! is
"Yes, He is.
How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.
time," he replied.
And so on the busy
street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt
deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled
his winning smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."
there!" was my reply.
He began his journey
again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bedroll and pack of
Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something that makes you
think of me, will you pray for me?"
I shouted back, "God bless."
bless." And that was the last I saw of him.
Late that evening as
I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard
upon the town. I bundled up and
hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw
them... a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the
handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands
would stay warm that night without them. I remembered his words: "If
you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"
Today his gloves lie
on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new
way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray
for his ministry. "See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. Yes,
Daniel, I know I will...
"I shall pass
this way but once. Therefore, any good that I can do or any kindness that
I can show, let me do it now, for I shall not pass this way again."
Some People Never Forget
The man slowly looked up.
This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life.
Her coat was new. She looked
like that she had never missed a meal in her life.
His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many
others had done before.
Leave me alone, he growled.
To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling - her even white teeth displayed in dazzling
rows. Are you hungry she asked?
No, he answered sarcastically. I've
just come from dining with the president. Now
go away. The woman's smile became
even broader. Suddenly the man felt
a gentle hand under his arm.
What are you doing lady the man asked angrily? I said to leave me alone.
Just then a policeman came up. Is
there any problem, ma'am?
No problem here, officer, the woman answered.
I'm just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?
The officer scratched his head. That's
old Jack. He's been a fixture
around here for a couple of years. What
do you want with him?
See that cafeteria over there? I'm
going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for a while.
Are you crazy, lady? The homeless
man resisted. I don't want to go
in there! Then he felt strong hands
grab his other arm and lift him up.
Let me go, officer. I didn't do
This is a good deal for you, Jack, the officer answered.
Don't blow it.
Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack
into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner.
It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had
already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived. The manager strode across
the cafeteria and stood by his table.
What's going on here, officer? What
is all this? Is this man in
This lady brought this man in here to be fed, the policeman answered.
Not in here the manager replied angrily. Having
a person like that here is bad for business.
Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. See,
lady. I told you so.
Now if you'll let me go. I
didn't want to come here in the first place.
The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled.
Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the
Of course I am, the manager answered impatiently. They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms.
And do you make a good amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?
What business is that of yours?
I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company.
The woman smiled again. I thought
that might make a difference. She
glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a giggle.
Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?
No thanks, ma'am, the officer replied. I'm
Then perhaps a cup of coffee to go?
Yes, ma'am. That would be very
The cafeteria manager turned on his heel. I'll
get your coffee for you right away, officer.
The officer watched him walk away. You
certainly put him in his place, he said.
That was not my intent. Believe it
or not, I have a reason for all this.
She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest and stared at him
intently. Jack, do you remember me?
Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes. I think so. I
mean you do look familiar.
I'm a little older perhaps, she said. Maybe
I've even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I
came through that very door, cold and hungry.
Ma'am? the officer said questioningly. He
couldn't believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have
I was just out of college the woman began.
I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn't find anything.
Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of
my apartment. I walked the streets
for days. It was February and I was
cold and nearly starving. I saw
this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat.
Jack lit up with a smile. Now
I remember, he said. I was behind
the serving counter. You came up
and asked me if you could work for something to eat.
I said that it was against company policy.
I know, the woman continued. Then
you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup
of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it.
I was afraid that you would get into trouble.
Then, when I looked over, I saw you put the price of my food in the cash
register I knew then that everything would be all right.
So you started your own business old Jack said.
I got a job that very afternoon. I
worked my way up. Eventually
I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered.
She opened her purse and pulled out a business card.
When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons. He's the personnel director of my company.
Ill go talk to him now and I'm certain hell find something for you to
do around the office. She smiled. I
think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can
buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet.
If you ever need anything, my door is always opened to you.
There were tears in the old mans eyes. How
can I ever thank you he said.
Don't thank me, the woman answered. To
God goes the glory. Thank Jesus.
He led me to you.
Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before
going their separate ways. Thank
you for all your help, officer, she said.
On the contrary, Ms. Eddy, he answered. Thank
you. I saw a miracle today;
something that I will never forget. And
thank you for the coffee.
If you have missed knowing me, you have missed nothing.
If you have missed some of my emails, you might have missed a laugh.
But, if you have missed knowing my LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST, you have missed
everything in the world.
Have a Wonderful Day. May God Bless
You Always. And don't forget that
when you cast your bread upon the waters, you never know how it will be returned
God is so big He can cover the whole world with his Love and so small He can
curl up inside your heart.
The Man In The Glass
by Dale Wimbrow, 1895-1954
When you get what you want in your struggle for
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.
For it isn't your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts the most in your life
Is the one starring back from the glass.
You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
And think you're a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says "You're a bum
If you can't look me straight in the eye."
He's the fellow to please--never mind all the
For he's with you clear to the end.
And you've passed your most dangerous difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the world down the pathway of
And get pats on your back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartache and tears,
If you've cheated, THE MAN IN THE GLASS
A Thankful Prayer
- I am thankful for the wife who says "Hot dogs for supper"
- Because she is home with me, not someone else.
am thankful for the husband who is on the sofa being a couch potato
he is home with me and not out at the bars.
I am thankful for the teenager who is complaining about doing dishes
she is at home and not out on the streets.
I am thankful for the taxes I pay
it means I am employed.
am thankful for the mess to clean after a party
it means I have been surrounded by friends.
I am thankful for the clothes that fit a little too snug
- Because it means I have enough to eat.
am thankful for my shadow that watches me work
it means I am out in the sunshine.
am thankful for a lawn to mow, windows to clean and gutters to fix
it means I have a home.
am thankful for the complaining I hear about the government
it means we have freedom of speech.
I am thankful for the parking spot I find at the far end of the
it means I am able to walk and I have been blessed with transportation.
am thankful for my huge
- Because it means I am warm.
I am thankful for the lady behind me in Church that sings off key
it means I can hear her.
am thankful for the pile of laundry and ironing
it means I have clothes to wear.
am thankful for weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day
it means I have been able to work.
am thankful for the alarm that rings early in the morning hours
it means I am alive.
Three Red Marbles
During the waning years of the depression in a small
southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Brother Miller's roadside stand
farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still
extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively. One particular day Brother
Miller was bagging some new 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 Brother 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. Jim
just loves to bargain with them 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 man.
A short time later I moved to Utah 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 Brother 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, that 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
shinny, red marbles.
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind
It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not
seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk.
The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season
that would bankrupt several farmers before it was through. Every day, my husband
and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to
the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water
rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut
everyone off. If we didn't see some rain soon...we would lose everything. It was
on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only
miracle I have seen with my own eyes.
I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his
brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He
wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious
purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great
effort...trying to be as still as possible. Minutes after he disappeared into
the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making
sandwiches & thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed.
Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride
toward the woods. This activity went on for an hour: walk carefully to the
woods, run back to the house.
Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I crept out of the
house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen...as he
was obviously doing important work and didn't need his Mommy checking up on
him). He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful
not to spill the water he held in them...maybe two or three tablespoons were
held in his tiny hands. I sneaked close as he went into the woods. Branches and
thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much
As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site.
Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I
almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was
dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him...he didn't even move as
Billy knelt down. I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously suffering
from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up
the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hand. When the water was gone, Billy
jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree.
I followed him back to the house to a spigot that we had shut
off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to
creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip slowly fill up his makeshift
"cup," as the sun beat down on his little back. And it came clear to
me. The trouble he had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before.
The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The
reason he didn't ask me to help him. It took almost twenty minutes for the drops
to fill his hands. When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in
front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I'm not
wasting", was all he said.
As he began his walk, I joined him. with a small pot of
water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away. It was his
job. I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have
ever known working so hard to save another life.
As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the
ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops...and more drops...and more. I
looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was weeping with pride. Some
will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence... That miracles
don't really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can't argue with
that...I'm not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day
saved our farm...just like that actions of one little boy saved another.
I don't know if anyone will read this...but I had to send it
out. To honor the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken from me much too
soon.... But not before showing me the true face of God, in a little sunburned
The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their
first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early
October excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was
very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in
time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting,
etc. and on Dec 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished. On Dec 19 a
terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm - hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart
sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about
20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the
pulpit, beginning about head high. The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor,
and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed
home. On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type
sale for charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade,
ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross
embroidered right in the center. It was just the right size to cover up the hole
in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running
from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The
pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder,
hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could
hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem
Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle. Her
face was like a sheet. "Pastor," she asked, "where did you get
that tablecloth?" The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the
lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there.
They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this
tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria. The woman could hardly believe it as the
pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman explained that
before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the
Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the
next week. She was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made
the pastor keep it for the church. The pastor insisted on driving her home. That
was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was
only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The
church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great. At the end of the
service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that
they would return. One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the
neighborhood, continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor
wondered why he wasn't leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on
the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago
when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths
so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her
safety, and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a
prison. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between. The
pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove
to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman
three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the
woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion
he could ever imagine.