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AnnMercy2

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I acutally just seen that one day before yesterday, can't wait unitl I get the speakers fixed and can listen to the music while it plays.

/me gets relaxed look on face just thinking about it

P.S. I'm quite accomplished for four years old :p
 
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Thanks for the heads up, David. When I do get time I'll just post the most interesting segments of the larger story. Is summarization of a story alright or would that be considered a "not to do" thing too?

Ah well, today I was reading it during silent reading at school and I actually came upon a story of Pastor Wurmbrand. However I came up to the part when the Pastor was explaining that while he was in prison Jesus visited him. Oh! It all sounds so interesting!
 
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FineLinen

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AnnMercy2, you are indeed accomplished for a four year old, and must get your speakers fixed (talk to mommy or daddy eh!); this simply will not do.

My youngest son purchased a surround sound that brings good things to life, making my speakers a dinasaur! :cry:

Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God; and only he who sees takes off his shoes."

:bow: :bow:

O love amazing! Love beyond the reach of human tongue;

Love which shall be the subject of an everlasting song.

Eternity, though infinite, is short enough to trace

The virtues of His healing wounds, the wonders of His grace.

Ye men, rejoice in Jesu's blood, Ye angels, join your lays;

In one harmonious endless choir sing His eternal praise. -Wm. Williams-

:bow: :bow:
 
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FineLinen

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Zina you posted...
Thanks for the heads up, David. When I do get time I'll just post the most interesting segments of the larger story. Is summarization of a story alright or would that be considered a "not to do" thing too?

Ah well, today I was reading it during silent reading at school and I actually came upon a story of Pastor Wurmbrand. However I came up to the part when the Pastor was explaining that while he was in prison Jesus visited him. Oh! It all sounds so interesting!
Zina, if some of these stories make you :cry: secure a copy of pastor Wurmbrands book "In God's Underground". You will :cry::bow::clap: in spontaneous vibrations of glory all at the same time. Oh, our Lord is so good!

A Slave To His Own Destiny

One morning a sixteen-year-old boy was kidnapped from his house by a band of knife-wielding thugs and taken to another country, there to be sold as a slave. The year was 401 AD.

He was made a shepherd. Slaves were not allowed to wear clothes, so he was often dangerously cold and frequently on the verge of starvation. He spent months at a time without seeing another human being -- a severe psychological torture.

Long Periods Of Solitude

But this greatest of difficulties was transformed into the greatest of blessings because it gave him an opportunity not many get in a lifetime. Long lengths of solitude have been used by people all through history to meditate, to learn to control the mind and to explore the depths of feeling and thought to a degree impossible in the hubbub of normal life.

Beginning To Pray

He wasn't looking for such an "opportunity," but he got it anyway. He had never been a religious person, but to hold himself together and take his mind off the pain, he began to pray, so much that "...in one day," he wrote later, "I would say as many as a hundred prayers and after dark nearly as many again...I would wake and pray before daybreak -- through snow, frost, and rain...."

This young man, at the onset of his manhood, got a 'raw deal.' But therein lies the lesson. Nobody gets a perfect life. The question is not "What could I have done if I'd gotten a better life?" but rather "What can I do with the life I've got?"

How can you take your personality, your circumstances, your upbringing, the time and place you live in, and make something extraordinary out of it? What can you do with what you've got?

You Are Going Home

The young slave prayed. He didn't have much else available to do, so he did what he could with all his might. And after six years of praying, he heard a voice in his sleep say that his prayers would be answered: He was going home. He sat bolt upright and the voice said, "Look, your ship is ready."

He was a long way from the ocean, but he started walking. After two hundred miles, he came to the ocean and there was a ship, preparing to leave for Britain, his homeland. Somehow he got aboard the ship and went home to reunite with his family.

Going Home Changed

But he had changed. The sixteen-year-old boy had become a holy man. He had visions. He heard the voices of the people from the island he had left -- Ireland -- calling him back. The voices were persistent, and he eventually left his family to become ordained as a priest and a bishop with the intention of returning to Ireland and converting the Irish to Christianity.

At the time, the Irish were fierce, illiterate, Iron-Age people. For over eleven hundred years, the Roman Empire had been spreading its civilizing influence from Africa to Britain, but Rome never conquered Ireland.

The people of Ireland warred constantly. They made human sacrifices of prisoners of war and sacrificed newborns to the gods of the harvest. They hung the skulls of their enemies on their belts as ornaments.

Our slave-boy-turned-bishop decided to make these people literate and peaceful. Braving dangers and obstacles of tremendous magnitude, he actually succeeded! By the end of his life, Ireland was Christian. Slavery had ceased entirely. Wars were much less frequent, and literacy was spreading.

Turning Sheepskin Into Paper & Paper Into Books

How did he do it? He began by teaching people to read -- starting with the Bible. Students eventually became teachers and went to other parts of the island to create new places of learning, and wherever they went, they brought the know-how to turn sheepskin into paper and paper into books.

Copying books became the major religious activity of that country. The Irish had a long-standing love of words, and it expressed itself to the full when they became literate. Monks spent their lives copying books: the Bible, the lives of saints, and the works accumulated by the Roman culture -- Latin, Greek, and Hebrew books, grammars, the works of Plato, Aristotle, Virgil, Homer, Greek philosophy, math, geometry, astronomy.

In fact, because so many books were being copied, they were saved, because as Ireland was being civilized, the Roman Empire was falling apart. Libraries disappeared in Europe. Books were no longer copied (except in the city of Rome itself), and children were no longer taught to read. The civilization that had been built up over eleven centuries disintegrated. This was the beginning of the Dark Ages.

Turning Scars Into Stars

Because our slave-boy-turned-bishop transformed his suffering into a mission, civilization itself, in the form of literature and the accumulated knowledge contained in that literature, was saved and not lost during that time of darkness. He was named a saint, the famous Saint Patrick. You can read the full and fascinating story if you like in the excellent book How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill.

"Very interesting," you might say, "but what does that have to do with me?"

What Shall I Do?

Well...you are also in some circumstances or other, and it's not all peaches and cream, is it? There's some stuff you don't like -- maybe something about your circumstances, perhaps, or maybe some events that occurred in your childhood.

But here you are, with that past, with these circumstances, with the things you consider less than ideal. What are you going to do with them? If those circumstances have made you uniquely qualified for some contribution, what would it be?

You may not know the answer to that question right now, but keep in mind that the circumstances you think only spell misery may contain the seeds of something profoundly Good. Assume that's true, and the assumption will begin to gather evidence until your misery is transformed, as Saint Patrick's suffering was, from a raw deal to the perfect preparation for something better.
 
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AnnMercy2

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Wonderful story, just shows once again that God can do anything, as long as we humans are willing :clap: :clap: Use me Lord, I'm yours :bow:

We should be getting those speakers fixed soon, I think momma said something about getting them fixed the other day :clap:

*reminder to self, have to change date on birthday in profile next month because of birthday, want to stay four a little while longer :p *
 
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FineLinen

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Lessons from an Oyster

There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.

It was only a grain,
But it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings
Although they're so plain.

Now, did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?

Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?

'No,' he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it.

Now the years have rolled around,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny; stew.

And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.

Now the tale has a moral,
For isn't it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?

What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.

[move]"When I am in the cellar of affliction, I look for the Lord's choicest wines." -Samuel Rutherford-[/move]
 
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FineLinen

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I Packed Your Parachute?

Charles Plumb, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate, was a jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 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 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."

Just A Sailor

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have 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 on 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 even know.

Who Is Packing Your Parachute?


"Now," Plumb asks his audience, "who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb 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 someone 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 parachute. I am sending you this as my way of thanking you for your part in packing my parachute!!!

"The true way to be humble is not to stoop till you are smaller then yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you the real smallness of your greatness." Phillips Brooks

 
 
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FineLinen

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A Tear To The Eye

Barbara was driving her six-year-old son, Benjamin, to his piano lesson.

They were late, and Barbara was beginning to think she should have cancelled it. There was always so much to do, and Barbara, a night-duty nurse at the local hospital, had recently worked extra shifts.

She was tired. The sleet storm and icy roads added to her tension. Maybe she should turn the car around.

"Mom!" Ben cried. "Look!" Just ahead, a car had lost control on a patch of ice. As Barbara tapped the brakes, the other car spun wildly rolled over, then crashed sideways into a telephone pole.

Barbara pulled over, skidded to a stop and threw open her door. Thank goodness she was a nurse - she might be able to help these unfortunate passengers.

Then she paused. What about Ben? She couldn't take him with her. Little boys shouldn't see scenes like the one she anticipated. But was it safe to leave him alone? What if their car were hit from behind?

For a brief moment Barbara considered going on her way. Someone else was sure to come along. No! "Ben, honey, promise me you'll stay in the car!"

"I will, Mommy," he said as she ran, slipping and sliding toward the crash site. It was worse than she'd feared. Two girls of high school age are in the car. One, the blonde on the passenger side, was dead, killed on impact.

The driver, however was still breathing. She was unconscious and pinned in the wreckage. Barbara quickly applied pressure to the wound in the teenager's head while her practiced eye catalogued the other injuries. A broken leg, maybe two, along with probable internal bleeding. But if help came soon, the girl would live.

A trucker had pulled up and was calling for help on his cellular phone. Soon Barbara heard the ambulance sirens. A few moments later she surrendered her lonely post to rescue workers.

"Good job," one said as he examined the driver's wounds. "You probably saved her life, ma'am." Perhaps.

Why Do These Things Happen?

But as Barbara walked back to her car a feeling of sadness overwhelmed her, especially for the family of the girl who had died. Their lives would never be the same. Oh God, why do such things have to happen?

Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. "Mom," he whispered, "did you see it?"

"See what, Honey?" she asked.

"The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky while you were running to the car. And he opened the door, and he took that girl out."

Barbara's eyes filled with tears. "Which door, Ben?"

"The passenger side. He took the girl's hand, and they floated up to Heaven together"

"What about the driver?"

Ben shrugged. "I didn't see anyone else."

Later, Barbara was able to meet the families of the victims. They expressed their gratitude for the help she had provided. Barbara was able to give them something more - Ben's vision.

There was no way he could have known what happened to either of the passengers. Nor could the passenger door have been opened; Barbara had seen its tangle of immovable steel herself. Yet Ben's account brought consolation to a grieving family. Their daughter was safe in Heaven. And they would see her again.

 :bow: :bow:

Mighty Christ from time eternal,

Mighty, He man's nature takes,

Mighty, when on Calv'rys dying,

Mighty, death itself He breaks.

See His might,

Infinite,

King of Heaven and earth by right.


 :bow:   :bow:
 
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FineLinen

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Hi there Zina...some of these stories cannot be verified, and the sources are unknown. I try not to post fairy tales. Did you read the post a few week ago regarding "Birdies"? The story regarding Barbara and her son Benjamin is in the same vein.

Daddy Is Driving

A speaker (Dr. Wan) has once shared his experience:

While his family and he were in Europe, there was once that they needed to drive 3 days continuously, day and night, to get to Germany. So, they all got into the car -- he, his wife, and his 3 year old daughter.

His little daughter has never traveled at night before. She was scared the first night in the car, with deep darkness outside.

Where Are We Going Daddy?

"Where are we going, Daddy?" "To your uncle's house, in Germany."

"Have you been to his house before?" "No."

"Then, do you know the way?" "Maybe, we can read the map."

Short pause. "Do you know how to read the map?" "Yes, we will get there safely."

Another pause. "Where are we going to eat if we get hungry before arriving?" "We can stop by restuarants if we are hungry."

"Do you know if there are restaurants on the way?" "Yes, there are."

"Do you know where?" "No, but we will be able to find some."

The same dialogue repeated a few times within the first night, and also the second night. But on the third night, his daughter was quiet. The speaker thought that she might have fallen asleep, but when he looked into the mirror, he saw that she was awake and was just looking around calmly. He couldn't help wondering why she was not asking the questions anymore --

"Dear, do you know where we are going?" "Germany, Uncle's house."

"Do you know how we are getting there?" "No."

"Then why aren't you asking anymore?" "Because Daddy is driving."

Because Daddy is driving. This answer from a 3 years' old girl has then become the strength and help for this speaker for the many years follow whenever he has questions and fears on his journey with the Lord. Yes, our Father is driving. We may know the destination (and sometimes we may just know it like the little girl -- "Germany", without understanding where or what it really is). We do not know the way, we do not know how to read the map, we do not know if we can find restaurants along the way. But the little girl knew the most important thing -- Daddy is driving -- and so she is safe and secure. She knows that her Daddy will provide all that she needs.

Do you know your Daddy, the Great Shepherd, is driving today? What are your behavior and response as a passenger, His child?

You may have asked many questions before, but can you like the little girl, starts to realize the most important focus should be "Daddy is driving?"

 :bow: :bow:

"God is King of all the earth; sing to Him a psalm of praise."

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/m/i/mightygo.htm
 
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FineLinen

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The Best Kind of Love By Annette Paxman Bowen

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.

"I'm young again!" she shouts exuberantly.

Looking At My Old One

As my friend raves on about her new love, I've taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

What Will Make This Love Last?

Spontaneous Good Times

When my friend asked me "What will make this love last?" I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

Surprises

And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold " (my cooking kettle) and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.

Understanding

There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him-to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

Sharing

There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I'd read it.

Forgiveness

There is forgiveness. When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, "It's okay. It's only money."

Sensitivity

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it's been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who'd had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman's husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There Is Faith

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, This is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Knowing

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I'll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly young: we've experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line "Grow old along with me!" We're following those instructions.

"If anything is real, the heart will make it plain."

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

The Greatest Love

That Christ may make His home within your hearts...rooted and grounded in love may be strong to comprehend/grasp what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know for yourselves that love so far beyond our comprehension, that you may be filled up to all the fulness of God.

Mighty Christ from time eternal,


Mighty, He man's nature takes,


Mighty, when on Calv'ry dying,


Mighty, death itself He breaks.


See His might,


Infinite,


King of Heaven and earth by right!
 
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FineLinen

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Greetings again friends. Easter is coming, in fact, it is today for those who have been grasped by the Lord of Glory!

The Empty Egg  (Author Unknown)

Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12
he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris
Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat,
drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly
and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his
brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.

One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a
consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said
to them, "Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn't fair to
him to be with younger children who don't have learning problems. Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students."

Distractions

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke.
"Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a
terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We
know he really likes it here." Doris sat for a long time after they had
left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all,
their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn't fair to keep him
in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a
distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write.
Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am
complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family,
she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy. From
that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares.
Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

I Love You Miss Miller!

"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole
class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris' face burned red. She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy. N-now please take your
seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of
Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the
idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg.

"Now," she said to them, "I want you to take this home and bring it back
tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically-all except
for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not
even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about
Jesus' death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps
she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord
and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she
still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary
test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy's parents.

Inside The Plastic Eggs

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as
they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk.
After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs. In
the first egg, Doris found a flower. "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign
of new life," she said. "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here."

A small girl in the first row waved her arm. "That's
my egg, Miss Miller," she called out. The next egg contained a plastic
butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a
caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that's
new life, too." Little Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one
is mine."

Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.

The Egg Was Empty

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty.
Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents. Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another.

Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my egg?" Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty." He looked into her eyes and said softly,

"Yes, but Jesus' tomb was empty, too."

Time stopped. When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you
know why the tomb was empty?" "Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the
schoolyard, Doris cried. The cold inside her melted completely away.

Empty Eggs

Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the
mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket....... all of them empty.

 :bow: :bow:  

I am He that liveth and was dead,

 And behold I am alive forevermore,

And I have the keys of death and of hell,

I am He that liveth and was dead.


 :bow: :bow:
 
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FineLinen

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AnnMercy2....You posted....

awwwwww I can't wait to have that kind of love for a fellow human being. I already have that kind of love with my Lord and Savior. I'm ready for the other love.
FineLinen

I do not know how long you have loved our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; but I assure you, my sister, our love for Him moves from glory to glory, and faith to faith. What is love for Him today becomes swallowed up in lambent glow as His Presence breaks upon us. When Jesus Christ first manifested Himself to me, as a young lad, a new day broke that has cascaded year after year. Today I am beginning to love Him, but it still falls far short! 

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/o/h/ohiljesu.htm

:bow: :bow:

Mighty Christ from time eternal,

Mighty, He man's  nature takes,

Mighty, when on Calv'ry dying,

Mighty, death itself He breaks.

See His might,

Infinite,

King of Heaven and earth by right!

:bow: :bow:
 
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FineLinen

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lbiagm, my friend there is so much despair that surrounds us; but if we look we will find amazing expressions of our Father. The other day I was sitting in the car waiting for my precious wife (patience personified) when a van drove up into the parking lot. A woman got out and opened the sliding door of the vehicle. She took her precious daughter into her arms and sat her in the wheelchair. Her mother had obviously taken great care to prepare for this simple event by dressing her with earrings on her ears to cap the preparation. Yes, this young woman our mother held in her arms, was severely handicapped. I will never forget the smile that flowed between the two of them in that wonderful moment. It was a smile of I am yours, and you are mine, and I love you!

A Simple Prayer

by Peggy Porter

My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad."


That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed.

The Project Begins

Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project began. Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do. Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car.A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom).

Blue Lightning

Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning," the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own.

Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race. Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed.

A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom."

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old ask if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray.

The race stopped.

Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with his Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, 'Okay, I am ready."

As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car.

Oh no, sir! 

Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval. The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh,Gilbert?" To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't cry when I lose."

Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the out come, Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome. When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a fathers help." No, he went to his Father for strength. Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, or too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the struggle. "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Philippines 4:13

Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win, thus hurt someone else, he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity. Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to his Father also showed the crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad," but His Father was most definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked away a winner that night, with his Father at his side.

 :bow: :bow:

 
 
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AnnMercy2

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Yesterday at 07:32 AM FineLinen said this in Post #136 (http://www.christianforums.com/showthread.php?postid=681314#post681314)

AnnMercy2....You posted....



FineLinen

I do not know how long you have loved our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; but I assure you, my sister, our love for Him moves from glory to glory, and faith to faith. What is love for Him today becomes swallowed up in lambent glow as His Presence breaks upon us. When Jesus Christ first manifested Himself to me, as a young lad, a new day broke that has cascaded year after year. Today I am beginning to love Him, but it still falls far short! 



I have loved my Lord and Savior for as long as I can remember, I honestly don't remember a time when he hasn't been by my side. I grew up in the church and asked the Lord into my heart at a young age. I have grown in my love for him more and more as I've gotten older, but only recently really realized what kind of love I needed to have for him. I've been through a lot in my, and I mean a lot. He has brought me back from the brink of death. I wanted to end my life and of course he saved my life. But not even that made me realize how much he loved me. All my life, I have longed to have a husband. I have never been in a relationship, let alone been on a date. I have never understood why nobody asked me out or wanted to date me. I figured it was because I was overweight and unattractive. How I longed to be the "right size" and pretty. Well, I'm still overweight, but my whole attitude about my looks have changed. I thought, I had to lose my weight in order to be attractive to someone. I thought I had to "clean myself up" before anyone could fall in love with me. I didn't know that someone could love me for me. I couldn't understand how someone could love and desire someone like me. I don't know exactly when it happened but I got a whole new outlook on myself. I've always been told that I carry my weight well, people usually guess my weight way below what it actually is. I've been told that I'm attractive. I just didn't believe it, untill now. I still don't fully know what changed me, maybe it was people's disbelief at the fact that I saw myself unactractive. I don't know. But when I look in the mirror now, I see an actractive woman staring back at me. Part of my attitude changed when I started working at my job. I've never been hit on so much on my life. I didn't know what to think. I thought maybe they were flirting with me because they couldn't find noone else to date them, I thought it was a last resort thing. Untill, a male co-worker, told me that I am pretty. I don't know why that did it, but it did. I had never had a male tell me that I am pretty. And it just hit me when he said that. Now, I've still never been in a realationship, or been on a date, but the difference is that I see myself in a whole new light and am ready to get out there and find the person that God has intended for me.


BUT, that is not my focus in life. My focus in life is my Lord. I found a whole new love in him. I'm learning to focus on him instead of finding "the one" I have to do this in order to be able to give my love to someone else fully. I have to be able to put my Lord, first and foremost in my life. He is my first love. And when it is time for me to find that second love in my life, I'll be ready. I'll be able to give that person my all. And by the time that I am finally able to give my all, it's going to be more than I ever thought possible. I didn't mean that I have reached all the love I had to give to the Lord, I meant that I had finally found the right love that he is sussposed to get from me. I meant that I found out I could love him on a whole different level than I thought. And of course that love grows with every new step I take. That love manifests in ways I never thought possible. It shines right outa me. I didn't know I could glow on the outside with the love of God in me. But I just shine with his love. And that shine gets brighter with each new level of love that I go to. I've had people ask me why I shine with happiness, I tell them it is the love of God himself. And I can't wait to take each new step in my life shining with his love for me and my love for him.

Shining in Love for my Lord and Savior,
Anna
 
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Wow, you have been through a lot, Ann, but I am VERY glad that the Lord saved you from ending your life because someone I loved so dearly ended their life and it only brings more heartache and sadness.

Along the point of never dating or anything, well I'm not sure how old you are because, lol, I assume you aren't really 4 but I am only 15 and have never experienced dating or things like that, even though I am constantly surrounded by people who have. It doesn't really bug me much until Valentine's Day rolls around... *which is a day you either love or hate...* and sometimes I gotta admit that I only wish I could find a boyfriend somewhere out there especially because there's this one boy at my church who's OVERLY nice to me..but anyways don't worry God has SOMEONE out there made ESPECIALLY for you who WON'T care what you look like but who will LOVE YOU for YOU!

But anyways this is time to be thinking in the Lord and again I am so glad that you found him and love him and put your trust in him!! :-D!
 
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