The Ragman

[FineLinen]

Hi there Jessica ....we hope you will visit with us again!

The 23rd Psalm (Native American Version)

The GREAT FATHER above a SHEPHERD CHIEF is.

I am His and with Him I want not.

He throws out to me a rope and the name of the rope is love and He draws me to where the grass is green and the water is not dangerous, and I eat and lie down and am satisfied.

Sometimes my heart is very weak and falls down, but He lifts me up again and draws me into a good road.

His name is WONDERFUL.

Sometime, it may be very soon, it may be a long long time,

He will draw me into a valley.

It is dark there, but I'll be afraid not, for it is between those mountains
that the SHEPHERD CHIEF will meet me and the hunger that I have in my heart all through life will be satisfied.

Sometimes he make the love rope into a whip, but afterwards He gives a staff to lean upon.

He spreads a table before me with all kinds of foods.

He put His hand upon my head and all the "tired" is gone.

My cup he fills till it runs over.

What I tell is true.

I lie not.

These roads that are "away ahead" will stay with me through this life and after; and afterwards I will go to live in the Big Teepee
and sit down with the SHEPHERD CHIEF forever.

Native-American Indian Version- by George Hunt Kiowa-

 

[Ms. Becky]

Yes FineLinen I do have something to tell everyone. I have posted about this before the "crash" so I feel like I'm telling you this all over again, but here it is: The " A Story To Live By " is so very true. Before God healed my sister of conjestive heart failur and literally gave her a new heart she was facing sudden death. She was given a 97% chance of a sudden death. When you are in that situation you learn to get your priorities in order. One day she asked me, " If you knew that you had only one month to live what would you want to do? " I thought about all of the places in this world that I would love to visit. I thought about all of the things that I would like to have. I thought about many things that I quite frankly began to realize were not so very important after all. I came to the conclusion that all I really would want to do in that situation would be to tell as many people as I could about Jesus and spend time with those that I love and care about. We are not promised a tomorrow. We really do take " time " for granted. Material things really don't mean anything. We really can't take anything with when we depart this earth, but we can leave something behind. If I leave anything behind when I go home I know what I want it to be. I feel that my life will have been worthwhile if people that I love and care about and even those who don't " know " me know that I loved Jesus and if I can tell people about Him while I am here. I want those people to see Jesus in me as I walk this earth so they will want to know Him. In spending time with loved ones, we need to make sure that we send the bouquets while they are here with us and not wait until they depart from us.

God Bless

 

[FineLinen]

AAA Dad -Author Unknown-

For 52 years my father got up every morning at 5:30 a.m., except Sunday, and went to work. For 52 years he returned home at 5:30 p.m., like clockwork, for dinner at 6:00 p.m. I never remember my father taking a "night out with the boys," nor do I ever recall my father drinking. All he asked from me as his daughter was to hold his hammer while he repaired something, just so we could have some time to talk to each other.

I never saw my father home from work ill, nor did I ever see my father lay down to take a nap. He had no hobbies, other than taking care of his family.

For 22 years, since I left home for college, my father called me every Sunday at 9:00 a.m. He was always interested in my life, how my family was doing, and I never once heard him lament about his lot in life. The calls even came when he and my mother were in Australia, England or Florida.

Nine years ago when I purchased my first house, my father, 67 years old, spent eight hours a day for three days in the 80-degree Kansas heat, painting my house. He would not allow me to pay someone to have it done. All he asked, was a glass of iced tea, and that a hold a paint brush for him and talk to him. But I was too busy, I had a law practice to run, and I could not take the time to hold the paint brush, or talk to my father.

Five years ago, at age 71 again in the sweltering Kansas heat, my father spent five hours putting together a swingset for my daughter. Again, all he asked was that I get him a glass of iced tea, and talk to him. But again, I had laundry to do, and the house to clean.

Four years ago, my father drove all the way from Denver to Topeka, with an eight foot Colorado Blue Spruce in his trunk, so that my husband and I could have a part of Colorado growing on our land. I was preparing for a trip that weekend and couldn't spend much time tallied to Daddy.

The morning or Sunday, January 16, 1996, my father telephoned me as usual, this time from my sister's home in Florida. We conversed about the tree he had brought me, "Fat Albert," but that morning he called the tree "Fat Oscar," and he had seemed to have forgotten some things we had discussed the previous week. I had to get to church, and I cut the conversation short.

The call came at 4:40 p.m., that day, my father was in the hospital in Florida with an aneurysm. I got on an airplane immediately, and on the way, I thought of all the times I had not taken the time to talk to my father. I realized that I had no idea who he was or what his deepest thoughts were. I vowed that when I arrived, I would make up for the lost time, and have a nice long talk with him and really get to know him.

I arrived in Florida at 1 a.m., my father had passed away at 9:12 p.m. This time it was he who did not have time to talk, or time to wait for me.

In the years since his death I have learned much about my father, and even more about myself. As a father he never asked me for anything but my time, now he as all my attention, every single day.

Abba, Father

http://newhopemusic.com/splendor.htm

"..Therefore have I hope and expectation that the Eternal's love is lasting; His kindnesses are never exhausted; they are new every morning; great is His faithfulness."

 

[FineLinen]

Yes FineLinen I do have something to tell everyone. I have posted about this before the "crash" so I feel like I'm telling you this all over again, but here it is: The " A Story To Live By " is so very true. Before God healed my sister of conjestive heart failur and literally gave her a new heart she was facing sudden death. She was given a 97% chance of a sudden death. When you are in that situation you learn to get your priorities in order. One day she asked me, " If you knew that you had only one month to live what would you want to do? " I thought about all of the places in this world that I would love to visit. I thought about all of the things that I would like to have. I thought about many things that I quite frankly began to realize were not so very important after all. I came to the conclusion that all I really would want to do in that situation would be to tell as many people as I could about Jesus and spend time with those that I love and care about. We are not promised a tomorrow. We really do take " time " for granted. Material things really don't mean anything. We really can't take anything with when we depart this earth, but we can leave something behind. If I leave anything behind when I go home I know what I want it to be. I feel that my life will have been worthwhile if people that I love and care about and even those who don't " know " me know that I loved Jesus and if I can tell people about Him while I am here. I want those people to see Jesus in me as I walk this earth so they will want to know Him. In spending time with loved ones, we need to make sure that we send the bouquets while they are here with us and not wait until they depart from us.

God Bless

Thankyou Ms. Becky, we appreciate your story. "We need to make sure we send the bouquets while they are here with us and not wait."

The Lunch Bag -Robert Fulghum-

Molly

It was Molly's job to hand her father his brown paper lunch bag each morning before he headed off to work. One morning, in addition to his usual lunch bag, Molly handed him a second paper bag. This one was worn and held together with duct tape, staples, and paper clips.

"Why two bags" Fulghum asked.

"The other is something else," Molly answered.

"What's in it?"

"Just some stuff. Take it with you."

Not wanting to hold court over the matter, Fulghum stuffed both sacks into his briefcase, kissed Molly and rushed off. At midday, while hurriedly scarfing down his real lunch, he tore open Molly's bag and shook out the contents: two hair ribbons, three small stones, a plastic dinosaur, a pencil stub, a tiny sea shell, two animal crackers, a marble, a used lipstick, a small doll, two chocolate kisses, and 13 pennies.

Junk And All

Fulghum smiled, finished eating, and swept the desk clean - into the wastebasket - leftover lunch, Molly's junk and all.

That evening, Molly ran up behind him as he read the paper.

"Where's my bag?"

"What bag?"

"You know, the one I gave you this morning."

"I left it at the office. Why?"

I Forgot The Note

"I forgot to put this note in it," she said. "And, besides, those are my things in the sack, Daddy, the ones I really like - I thought you might like to play with them, but now I want them back. You didn't lose the bag, did you, Daddy?"

"Oh, no," he said, lying. "I just forgot to bring it home. I'll bring it tomorrow."

While Molly hugged her father's neck, he unfolded the note that had not made it into the sack: "I love you, Daddy."

Treasures

Molly had given him her treasures. All that a 7-year-old held dear. Love in a paper sack, and he missed it - not only missed it, but had thrown it in the wastebasket. So back he went to the office. Just ahead of the night janitor, he picked up the wastebasket and poured the contents on his desk.

After washing the mustard off the dinosaurs and spraying the whole thing with breath-freshener to kill the smell of onions, he carefully smoothed out the wadded ball of brown paper, put the treasures inside and carried it home gingerly, like and injured kitten. The bag didn't look so good, but the stuff was all there and that's what counted.

After dinner, he asked Molly to tell him about the stuff in the sack. It took a long time to tell. Everything had a story or a memory or was attached to dreams and imaginary friends. Fairies had brought some of the things. He had given her the chocolate kisses, and she had kept them for when she needed them.

"Sometimes I think of all the times in this sweet life," Fulghum concludes the story, "when I must have missed the affection I was being given. A friend calls this 'standing knee deep in the river and dying of thirst.' "

We should all remember that it's not the destination that counts in life - it's the journey.

The little girl smiles, the dinosaurs and chocolate kisses wrapped in old paper bags that we sometimes throw away too thoughtlessly, each day, each a tiny treasure.

The journey with the people we love is all that really matters. Such a simple truth so easily forgotten.



"...Therefore have I hope and expectation that the Eternal's love is lasting; His kindnesses are never exhausted; they are new every morning; great is His faithfulness."



http://newhopemusic.com/awesome.htm

 

[BaBiDaNsTaR]

How many stories do you have left in your stock, David?

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Zina...The well gets dry at times, but I am confident we will have stories for the rest of the year+. I hope you are not weary with them at this early juncture. I am presently getting my 6500 posts on another thread organized. They are buried, but I am a miner. I trust you are enjoying your summer vacation; we will be heading off again in a couple of weeks, so keep this thread of ours alive. Do a little dance for us or something!

"The Lord has appeared of old unto me, saying, Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love: therefore with loving kindness/ with affection have I drawn you."



http://newhopemusic.com/abba.htm



"Christ's love is like His name, and that is Wonderful, yes, it is so wonderful that it is supra omnem creaturam, ultra omnem measuram, contra omnem naturam, above all creatures, beyond all measure, contrary to all nature. It is above all creatures, for it is above the angels, and therefore above all others. It is beyond all measure, for time did not begin it and time shall never end it; place doth not bound it, sin doth not exceed it, no estate, no age and time shall ever end it; place doth not bound it, sin doth not exceed it, no estate, no age, no sex is denied it, tongues cannot express it, understandings cannot conceive it: and it is contrary to all nature; for what nature can love when it is hated? What nature can forgive where is is provoked? What nature can offer reconciliation where it receiveth wrong? What nature can heap up kindness upon contempt, favour upon ingratitude, mercy upon sin? And yet Christ's love hath led him to all this; so that well may we spend our days in admiring and adoring of this wonderful love, and be always ravished with the thoughts of it." -Thomas Brooke-

 

[FineLinen]

Subject: Thanks For Your Time

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

Mr. Belser Died Last Night

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering
his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown.

Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused ! for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.

The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.

The Golden Box Is Gone

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box? " Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox.

"Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package.

The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

"Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope.

Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter.

His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover.

Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most...was...my time."

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days.

"Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with my son," he said.

"Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away."

Have a great day-and thank you for your time...

 

[BaBiDaNsTaR]

David-No, of course I'm not getting bored of the stories! They're grrreat..lol..ahh..Tony the Tiger :-D!

 

[FineLinen]

Christmas in July

Almie Rose -By Michelle Lawrence- (Condensed Chicken Soup For The Soul)

It was at least two months before Christmas when nine- year-old Almie Rose told her father and me that she wanted a new bicycle. As Christmas drew nearer, her desire for a bicycle seemed to fade, or so we thought. We purchased the latest rage, Baby-Sitter's Club dolls, and a doll house. Then, much to our surprise, on December 23rd, she said that she "really wanted a bike more than anything else."

It was just too late, what with all the details of preparing Christmas dinner and buying last-minute gifts, to take the time to select the "right bike" for our little girl. So, here we were - Christmas Eve around 9:00p.m., with Almie Rose and her six-year-old brother, Dylan, nestled snug in their beds. We could now think only of the bicycle, the guilt, and being parents who would disappoint their child.

"What if I make a little bicycle out of clay and write a note that she could trade the clay model in for a real bike?" her dad asked. The theory being that since this is a high-ticket item and she is "such a big girl," it would be much better for her to pick it out. So he spent the next four hours painstakingly working with clay to create a miniature bike.

On Christmas morning, we were excited for Almie Rose to open the little heart-shaped package with the beautiful red and white clay bike and the note. Finally, she opened it and read the note aloud.

"Does this mean that I trade in this bike that Daddy made me for a real one?" Beaming, I said, "Yes."

Almie Rose had tears in her eyes when she replied, "I could never trade in this beautiful bicycle that Daddy made me. I'd rather keep this than get a real bike."

At that moment, we would have moved heaven and earth to buy her every bicycle on the planet!

"The Father Himself holds you dear/ dearly loves you/ tenderly loves you."

 

[Sun_flwer]

AAA Dad- that was a nice one FineLinen. I wish my father had been like that. Really good short-stories.

 

[FineLinen]

AAA Dad- that was a nice one FineLinen. I wish my father had been like that. Really good short-stories.

Hi there Jessica Antonio (J.A.) I have been greatly blessed by the writings of a remarkable man of God, George MacDonald. His earthly father was an inspiration that led him into the great and glorious expanses of our Heavenly Father. I am pleased you have enjoyed the stories. One of my favorites is the story from Africa regarding the waterbottle and the dolly. And the flying cat will always be an inspiration!

God, I have a question: Why Do You Love Your Children?

Why do you love your children? I don't want to sound irreverent, but only heaven knows how much pain we've brought you. Why do you tolerate us? You give us every breath we breathe, but do we thank you? You give us bodies beyond dupliation, but do we praise you?

We complain about the weather.

We bicker about our toys. We argue over who gets which continent and who has the best gender. Not a second passes when someone, somewhere, doesn't use your name to curse a hammered thumb or a bad call by the umpire (as if it were your fault).

You fill the world with food, but we blame you for the hunger.

You keep the earth from tilting and the arctics from thawing, but we accuse you of unconcern. You give us blue skies and we demand rain. You give us rain, and we demand sun. (As if we knew what was best anyway).

We give more applause to a brawny ball-carrier than we do to the God who made us.

We sing more songs to the moon than to the Christ who saved us. We are a gnat on the tail of one elephant in a galaxy of Africas, and yet we demand that you find us a parking lot when we ask. And if you don't give us what we want, we say you don't exist. (As if our opinion matters).

We pollute the world you loan us.

We mistreat the bodies you gave us. We ignore the Word you sent us. And we killed the Son you became. We are spoiled babies who take and kick and pout and blaspheme. You have every reason to abandon us. I sure would! I would wash my hands of the whole mess and start over on Mars. But do you?

I see the answer in the rising of the sun.

I hear the answer in the crashing of the waves. I feel the answer in the skin of a child. Father, your love never ceases. Never. Though we spurn you, ignore you, and disobey you, you will not change. Our evil cannot diminish your love. Our goodness cannot increase it. Our faith does not earn it anymore than our stupidity jeapordizes it. You don't love us less if we fail. You don't love us more if we succeed. Your love never ceases. How do we explain it?

Moms

Perhaps the answer is found in yet another question. Moms: Why do you love your newborn? I know, I know; it's a silly question, but indulge me. Why do you? For months this baby has brought you pain. She (or he!) made you break out in pimples and waddle like a duck. Because of her you craved sardines and crackers and threw up in the morning. She punched you in the tummy. She occupied space that wasn't hers and ate food she didn't fix. You kept her warm. You kept her safe. You kept her fed. But did she say thank you?

Are you kidding? She's no more out of the womb than she starts to cry! The room is too cold, the blanket is too rough, the nurse is too mean. And who does she want? Mom.

Don't you ever get a break?

I mean, who has been doing the work these last nine months? Why can't Dad take over? But no, Dad won't do. The baby want's Mom. She didn't even tell you she was coming. She just came. And what a coming! She rendered you a barbarian. You screamed, you swore. You bit bullets and tore the sheets. And now look at you. Your back aches. Your head pounds. And your body is drenched in sweat. Every muscle strained and stretched. You should be angry, but are you?

Forever Love

Far from it! On your face is a for-longer-than-forever love. She has done nothing for you; yet you love her. She's brought pain to your body and nausea to your morning, yet you treasure her. Her face is wrinkled and her eyes are dim, yet all you can talk about is her good looks and bright future. She's going to wake you up every morning for the next six weeks, but that doesn't matter. I can see it on your face. You're crazy about her. Why?

Why does a mother love her newborn?

Because the baby is hers? Even more. Because the baby is her. Her blood. Her flesh. Her sinew and spine. Her hope. Her legacy. She knows a newborn is helpless and weak. She knows babies don't ask to come into this world. And God knows we didn't either.

We are his idea. We are his. His face. His eyes. His hands. His touch. We are him.

Look deeply into the face of every human being on earth, and you will see his likeness. Though some appear to be distant relatives, they are not. God has no cousins. Only children. We are, incredibly, the body of Christ. And though we may not act like our Father, there is no greater truth than this: We are his. Unaltrably. He loves us. Undyingly. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ (Rom. 8:38 - 39)

- Excerpt from A Gentle Thunder
(Hearing God Through the Storm)
by Max Lucado -



http://newhopemusic.com/thine.htm

"For I am fully persuaded that there is nothing in death or life, in the realm of superhuman powers, in the world as it is or the world as it shall be, in the forces of nature. Neither the height above us nor the depth beneath us, nor any other created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which has been shown to us in Christ Jesus our Lord."

 

[FineLinen]

What would happen if you tied 42 weather balloons to a lawn chair and launched it?

This story has been widely disbelieved by skeptics, but it really happened. Rich Buhler was hosting a radio talk show from Los Angeles in 1982 when Larry Walters' historic flight took place from nearby San Pedro and he covered the story for his audience. It was widely reported by the news media at the time and Larry Walters became something of a folk hero for his daredevil solo flight.



According to published reports, Walters was employed as a truck driver in Southern California. On July 2, 1982, he fastened 42 surplus balloons to a lawn chair and launched from his girlfriend's San Pedro home. He carried various supplies with him as well as a CB radio and a BB gun to shoot balloons one at a time to descend. He didn't realize how powerful the buoyancy of the balloons was. When he cut a rope holding him to terra firma, he took off with such a jolt that another anchor rope broke under the stress and he shot upward so quickly that his eyeglasses flew to the ground. He floated around the L.A. basin for several hours and reached altitudes of up to 16,000 feet. According to an article in the New York Times the next day, Walters was spotted by pilots from both TWA and Delta Airlines. It was cold at 16,000 feet and he started shooting some of his balloons to descend, but dropped his BB gun and had to wait for his rig to come down on its own. He landed in a residential neighborhood in Long Beach where got tangled in some power lines, causing a power blackout. He told reporters that his weather balloon flight had been a dream of more than 20 years.

http://www.lovethissite.com/strange/

 

[FineLinen]

A young, new preacher was walking with an older, more seasoned preacher in the garden one day and feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was inquiring of the older preacher. The older preacher walked up to a rosebush and handed the young preacher a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing off any petals.

The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older preacher and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the WILL OF GOD for his life and for his ministry. Because of his high respect for the older preacher, he proceeded to TRY to unfold the rose, while keeping every petal intact...It wasn't long before he realized how impossible it was to do so.

Noticing the younger preacher's inability to unfold the rosebud while keeping it intact, the older preacher began to recite the following poem...

Unfolding The Rose

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/

It is only a tiny rosebud,
A flower of God's design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.

The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
When in my hands they fade and die.

If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of God's design,
Then how can I think I have wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?

So I'll trust in Him for His leading
Each moment of every day.
I will look to him for His guidance
Each step of the pilgrim way.

The pathway that lies before me,
Only my Heavenly Father knows.
I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose.

Unfolding The Rose

http://www.promiseofgod.com/rosepetals/

 

[BaBiDaNsTaR]

oO, I really like the "Unfolding the Rose" story. It makes God's plans for us sound sooOOoo beautiful!! !

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Xina...God's plan for us is beautiful!

A Letter From Heaven

http://www.fathershands.com/letter/index.html

"One thing do I desire, a vision of the Eternal's goodness, one thing alone I ask....one thing I desire, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to behold Him in His temple."

http://members.tripod.com/~Spirit_Songs/canyouse.htm

 

[FineLinen]

On post number 142 the story of The Window was presented. Today we shall consider it with a background of music.

Parade Outside My Window

http://www.saintsandheroes.com/parade1/

"The Eternal is near the broken-hearted and for crushed spirits He has help. The good man may have many a mishap, but from them all the Eternal rescues him." Psl. 34:19

 

[FineLinen]

Subject: God's Wings

An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating picture of God's wings...

After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick.

When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings would live.

"He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge" (Psalm 91:4)

"A Loving Personality dominates the Bible, walking among the trees of the garden and breathing fragrance over every scene. Always a Living Person is present, speaking, pleading, loving, working, and manifesting Himself wherever His people have the receptivity necessary to receive the manifestation." -A.W. Tozer-

Father's Love Letter

http://www.fathersloveletter.com/fllpreviewlarge.html

 

[kimber1]

that father's love letter brought me to tears!! that was so beautiful!!

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Kimber1. Father's Love Letter, His letters from Home, fills our hearts with His majestic Presence!

Let's see if we can find Waldo today!

http://micro.magnet.fsu.edu/primer/java/scienceopticsu/powersof10/index.html



Frankly, I stand amazed at the unfathomable complexity of God's wisdom and God's knowledge: How inscrutable His judgements, how trackless His footsteps; how could man ever understand His reasons for action, or explain His methods of working.

Who has ever known the Lord's thoughts, or advised Him...for from Him everything comes; through Him everything exists; and in Him everything ends! To whom be glory for ever. Amen!"



Draining The Ocean Dry

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/l/o/loveofgo.htm



Here Is Love

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/h/e/herelove.htm

 

[FineLinen]

Through/In Jesus Christ, Hope Lives!

http://www.promiseofgod.com/Hopelives/

Yahweh Is Salvation

Yahweh does not mean "Lord"---it communicates God's eternal existence and powerful saving presence. No wonder Yahweh is built into the name Jesus, which means "Yahweh is salvation."

Yah Shua

The Messiah's Hebrew name Yahshua means "Yahweh is salvation."

In the Son, Yahshua, we find our eternal salvation, for His Name, as written in modern Hebrew, means "the salvation of Yah."

http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/Lobby/3421/History.html

"We must die, and are like water spilled on the ground that cannot be gathered up again. But Yahweh does not take away life; instead He deviseth ways for the banished to be restored."