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"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked.


When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.


Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred. When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.


He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy ... called me a freak."


He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.


The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided.


Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by.


Then, "You are going to the hospital, Son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret," said the father.


The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service.


"But I must know!" He urged his father, "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him."


"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know ... not yet."


The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come ... one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother's casket.


Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother had no outer ears.


"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?"


Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen, but what that cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.
   A small but touching story with a deep message. A ticket collector in a train found an old worn out wallet in a compartment full of many people. He looked inside to find the name of its owner. There was no clue. All that there was in it, was some money and a picture of Jesus Christ. He held it up and asked, 'Who does this wallet belong to?' An old man said, 'That is my wallet, please give it to me.' The ticket collector said, 'You'll have to prove that it is yours. Only then I can hand it over to you.' The old man smiled a toothless smile and said. 'It has a picture of Jesus Christ in it.' The ticket collector said, 'That is no proof; anyone can have a picture of Jesus Christ in his wallet. What is special about that? Why is your picture not there in it?' The old man took a deep breath and said, 'Let me tell you why my picture is not there in it. My father gave this wallet to me when I was in school. I used to get a small sum as pocket money then. I had kept a picture of my parents in it. When I was a teenager I was greatly enamoured by my good looks. I removed my parent's picture and put in one of my own. I loved to see my own face and my thick black hair. Some years later, I got married. My wife was very beautiful and I loved her a lot. I replaced my own picture                   in this wallet with a picture of her. I spent hours gazing at her pretty face. When my first child was born, my life started a new chapter. I shortened my working hours, to play with my baby. I went late to work and returned home early too. Obviously, my baby's picture occupied the prized position in my wallet.' The old man's eyes brimmed with tears as he went on.. 'My parents passed away many years ago. Last year my wife too left her mortal coil. My son, my only son, is too busy with his family. He has no time to look after me. All that I had ever held close to my heart is far, far away from my reach now. Now I have put this picture of Jesus Christ in my wallet. It is only now that I have realized that He is the eternal companion. He will never leave me. Alas! If only I had realized this before. If only I had loved the Lord all these years, with the same intensity as I loved my family, I would not have been so lonely today!' The ticket collector quietly gave the wallet to the old man. When the train stopped at the next station, the ticket collector went to the book stall at the platform and asked the salesman, 'Please give me a small picture of Jesus Christ? I need one to put in my wallet!' The Question we need to ask is where is Jesus in our lives today? Think of it because it could make a difference to your life today and in the days to come.
Four clergymen were discussing the merits of the various translations of the Bible. 


One liked the King James version because of its simple, beautiful language.


Another liked the American Standard version best because it comes closer to the original Hebrew and Greek. 


The third liked Moffat's translation best because of its up-to-date words. 


The fourth clergyman was silent. When asked to express his opinion, he replied: "I like my mother's translation best."


The other three expressed surprise and wanted to know what he meant. "Well," he explained, "my mother translated the Bible into her everyday life, and it was the most convincing translation I ever saw."
When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.


Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.


She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?


I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her!


With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.


She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.


The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.


When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.


In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.


This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day.


She requested that every day for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.


I told Jane about my wife's divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.


My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.


On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.


On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.


On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.


She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.


Suddenly it hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.


Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.


But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.


I drove to office.... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind...I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.


She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.


Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.


At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.


That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed - dead.


My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru with the divorce.-- At least, in the eyes of our son--- I'm a loving husband....


The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!


If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you. If you do, you just might save a marriage.


Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.



Genesis 2:22-24
"Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.  The man said, "This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called 'woman, ' for she was taken out of man."  For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh."




Colossians 3:18-19
"Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.  Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them."



Colossians 3:18-19
Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.  Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them.


Treasure your Marriage. It is a God given privilege. 

You may have read about the man, a construction worker who took a sandwich out of his lunch bag, looked at it and threw it on the ground, yelling, "Baloney again! I hate baloney." A coworker said, "If you hate baloney so much, just ask your wife to make you something else." The man replied, "That's the problem. My wife didn't make the sandwich. I did."

Whether this story is true or not, doesn't really matter. It's a great parable.

As Michael Josephson in Character Counts said, "Lots of people continually make their own baloney sandwiches and then act as victims when it's time to eat them. It's like the man who killed his parents and had the audacity to demand mercy because he was an orphan."

A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending services regularly, stopped going. After a few weeks, the pastor decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire. Guessing the reason for his pastor’s visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited.

The pastor made himself comfortable but said nothing. In the grave silence, he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs. After some minutes, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent.

The host watched all this in quiet fascination. As the one lone ember’s flame diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon it was cold and “dead as a doornail.” Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting. Just before the pastor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.

As the pastor reached the door to leave, his host said, “Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I shall be back in church next Sunday.”

Keep on glowing in your life. So go to church daily or as often as you can.
A young couple moved into a new neighborhood. 
The next morning while they were eating breakfast, the young woman watched her neighbor hanging wash outside.

“That laundry is not very clean,” she said. 

”She doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”

Her husband looked on, but remained silent.

Every time her neighbor would hang her wash to dry, the young woman would make the same comments.

About one month later, the woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband,

“Look, she has learned how to wash correctly.I wonder who taught her this.”

The husband said, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows.”

And so it is with life. What we see when watching others may depend on the purity of the window through which we look.
Six year old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor. He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten. Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated.


He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn’t know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove, and he didn’t know how the stove worked!


Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky. And just then he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon’s eyes. All he’d wanted to do was make them proud. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking.


But his father just watched him. Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process.




That’s how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend or we can’t stand our job or our health goes sour. Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can’t think of anything else to do. That’s when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him.


But just because we might mess up, we can’t stop trying to “make pancakes,” for God or for others. Sooner or later we’ll get it right, and then they’ll be glad we tried…
A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a six pack of Root beer and he started his journey. When he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman. She was sitting in the park just staring at some pigeons.

The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase. He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie. She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him.

Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered her a root beer. Again, she smiled at him. The boy was delighted!

They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they never said a word. As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave, but before he had gone more than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman, and gave her a hug.

She gave him her biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face.

She asked him, "What did you do today that made you so happy?"

He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home. Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face and he asked, "Mother, what did you do today that made you so happy?"

She replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with God." However, before her son responded, she added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

Embrace all equally!

Send this to people who have touched your life in a special way.

Let them know how important they are. Have lunch with God.
They tell the story of a mountain climber, who desperate to conquer the Aconcagua, initiated his climb after years of preparation. But he wanted the glory to himself, therefore, he went up alone. He started climbing and it was becoming later, and later. He did not prepare for camping but decided to keep on going. Soon it got dark…


Night fell with heaviness at a very high altitude. Visibility was zero. Everything was black. There was no moon, and the stars were covered by clouds. As he was climbing a ridge at about 100 meters from the top, he slipped and fell. Falling rapidly he could only see blotches of darkness that passed. He felt a terrible sensation of being sucked in by gravity.


He kept falling….and in those anguishing moments good and bad memories passed through his mind. He thought certainly he would die. But then he felt a jolt that almost tore him in half. Yes!! Like any good mountain climber he had staked himself with a long rope tied to his waist.


In those moments of stillness, suspended in the air he had no other choice but to shout, “HELP ME GOD”, “HELP ME!”


All of a sudden he heard a deep voice from heaven.. “What do you want me to do?”


“SAVE ME”


“Do you REALLY think that I can save you?”


“OF COURSE, MY GOD”


“Then cut the rope that is holding you up.”


There was another moment of silence and stillness. The man just held tighter to the rope.


Next day the rescue team found a frozen mountain climber hanging strongly to a rope…


TWO FEET OFF THE GROUND!!!






How about you? How much are you trusting in that rope? Why don’t you let it go?


I tell you, God has great and marvelous things for you.


CUT THE ROPE AND SIMPLY TRUST IN HIM…

Artist of this Picture is unknown - Picture NOT Owned by www.ChristianStories.Co - Thank you. 
He sits by himself at a table for two. The uniformed waiter returns to his side and asks, “Would you like to go ahead and order, sir?” The man has, after all, been waiting since seven o’clock–almost half an hour.


“No, thank you,” the man smiles. “I’ll wait for her a while longer.


How about some more coffee?”


“Certainly, sir.”


The man sits, his clear blue eyes gazing straight through the flowered centerpiece. He fingers his napkin, allowing the sounds of light chatter, tinkling silverware, and mellow music to fill his mind. He is dressed in a sport coat and tie. His dark brown hair is neatly combed, but one stray lock insists on dropping to his forehead. The scent of his cologne adds to his clean cut image. He is dressed up enough to make a companion feel important, respected, loved. Yet he is not so formal as to make one uncomfortable. It seems that he has taken every precaution to make others feel at ease with him. Still, he sits alone.


The waiter returns to fill the man’s coffee cup. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”


“No, thank you.”


The waiter remains standing at the table. Something tugs at his curiosity. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” His voice trails off. This line of conversation could jeopardize his tip.


“Go ahead,” the man encourages. His is strong, yet sensitive, inviting conversation.


“Why do you bother waiting for her?” the waiter finally blurts out. This man has been at the restaurant other evenings, always patiently alone.


Says the man quietly, “Because she needs me.”


“Are you sure?”


“Yes.”


“Well, sir, no offense, but assuming that she needs you, she sure isn’t acting much like it. She’s stood you up three times just this week.”


The man winces, and looks down at the table. “Yes, I know.”


“Then why do you still come here and wait?”


“Cassie said that she would be here.”


“She’s said that before,” the waiter protests. “I wouldn’t put up with it. Why do you?”


Now the man looks up, smiles at the waiter, and says simply, “Because I love her.”


The waiter walks away, wondering how one could love a girl who stands him up three times a week. The man must be crazy, he decides. Across the room, he turns to look at the man again. The man slowly pours cream into his coffee. He twirls his spoon between his fingers a few times before stirring sweetener into his cup. After staring for a moment into the liquid, the man brings the cup to his mouth and sips, silently watching those around him.


He doesn’t look crazy, the waiter admits. Maybe the girl has qualities that I don’t know about. Or maybe the man’s love is stronger than most. The waiter shakes himself out of his musings to take an order from a party of five.


The man watches the waiter, wonders if he’s ever been stood up. The man has, many times. But he still can’t get used to it. Each time, it hurts. He’s looked forward to this evening all day. He has many things, exciting things, to tell Cassie. But, more importantly, he wants to hear Cassie’s voice. He wants her to tell him all about her day, her triumphs, her defeats….anything, really. He has tried so many times to show Cassie how much he loves her. He’d just like to know that she cares for him, too. He sips sporadically at the coffee, and loses himself in thought, knowing that Cassie is late, but still hoping that she will arrive.


The clock says nine-thirty when the waiter returns to the man’s table. “Is there anything I can get for you?”


The still empty chair stabs at the man. “No, I think that will be all for tonight. May I have the check please?”


“Yes, sir.”


When the waiter leaves, the man picks up the check. He pulls out his wallet and signs. He has enough money to have given Cassie a feast. But he takes out only enough to pay for his five cups of coffee and the tip. Why do you do this, Cassie, his mind cries as he gets up from the table.


“Good-bye,” the waiter says, as the man walks towards the door.


“Good night. Thank you for your service.”


“You’re welcome, sir,” says the waiter softly, for he sees the hurt in the man’s eyes that his smile doesn’t hide. The man passes a laughing young couple on his way out, and his eyes glisten as he thinks of the good time he and Cassie could have had. He stops at the front and makes reservations for tomorrow. Maybe Cassie will be able to make it, he thinks.


“Seven o’clock tomorrow for party of two?” the hostess confirms.


“That”s right,” the man replies.


“Do you think she’ll come”" asks the hostess. She doesn’t mean to be rude, but she has watched the man many times alone at his table for two.


“Someday, yes. And I will be waiting for her.” The man buttons his overcoat and walks out of the restaurant, alone. His shoulders are hunched, but through the windows the hostess can only guess whether they are hunched against the wind or against the man’s hurt.


As the man turns toward home, Cassie turns into bed. She is tired after an evening out with friends. As she reaches toward her night stand to set the alarm, she sees the note that she scribbled to herself last night. “7:00,” it says. “Spend some time in prayer.” Darn, she thinks. She forgot again. She feels a twinge of guilt, but quickly pushes it aside. She needed that time with her friends. And now she needs her sleep. She can pray tomorrow night. Jesus will forgive her. And she’s sure he doesn’t mind.
One day I decided to quit…I quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality.


I wanted to quit my life. I went to the woods to have one last talk with God.


“God”, I said. “Can you give me one good reason not to quit?”


His answer surprised me.


“Look around”, He said. “Do you see the fern and the bamboo?”


“Yes”, I replied.


“When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them. I gave them light. I gave them water. The fern quickly grew from the earth. Its brilliant green covered the floor. Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo.


In the second year the fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo.


“In year three there was still nothing from the bamboo seed. But I would not quit. The same in year four.


“Then in the fifth year, a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Compared to the fern, it was seemingly small and insignificant.


But just six months later, the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall.


It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive. I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle.


“Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots? I would not quit on the bamboo.. I will never quit on you.


“Don’t compare yourself to others.” He said. “The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern. Yet they both make the forest beautiful.


“Your time will come”, God said to me. “You will rise high”


“How high should I rise?” I asked.


“How high will the bamboo rise?” He asked in return.


“As high as it can?” I questioned


“Yes.” He said, “Give me glory by rising as high as you can.”


I left the forest, realizing that God will never give up on me. And He will never give up on you.




Never regret a day in your life.


Good days give you happiness; bad days give you experiences;


Both of them are essential to life.
An elderly woman had just returned to her home from an evening of religious service when she was startled by an intruder. As she caught the man in the act of robbing her home of its valuables, she yelled, 'Stop -Acts 2:38!' (..turn from your sin...). The burglar stopped dead in his tracks. The woman calmly called the police and explained what she had done. As the officer cuffed the man to take him in, he asked the burglar, 'Why did you just stand there? All she did was yell a scripture to you.' 'Scripture?' replied the burglar, 'She said she had an AXE and two 38's!'
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." 


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," 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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


A Sunday school teacher was discussing the Ten Commandments with her five and six year olds.  After explaining the commandment to "honor" thy Father and thy Mother, she asked, "Is there a commandment that teaches us how to treat our brothers and sisters?"

Without missing a beat one little boy (the oldest of a family) answered, "Thou shall not kill."
One stormy night many years ago, an elderly man and his wife entered the lobby of a small hotel in Philadelphia. Trying to get out of the rain, the couple approached the front desk hoping to get some shelter for the night.


“Could you possibly give us a room here?” the husband asked. The clerk, a friendly man with a winning smile, looked at the couple and explained that there were three conventions in town.


“All of our rooms are taken,” the clerk said. “But I can’t send a nice couple like you out into the rain at one o’clock in the morning. Would you perhaps be willing to sleep in my room? It’s not exactly a suite, but it will be good enough to make you folks comfortable for the night.”


When the couple declined, the young man pressed on. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll make out just fine,” the clerk told them. So the couple agreed.


As he paid his bill the next morning, the elderly man said to the clerk, “You are the kind of manager who should be the boss of the best hotel in the United States. Maybe someday I’ll build one for you.”


The clerk looked at them and smiled. The three of them had a good laugh.


As they drove away, the elderly couple agreed that the helpful clerk was indeed exceptional, as finding people who are both friendly and helpful isn’t easy.


Two years passed. The clerk had almost forgotten the incident when he received a letter from the old man. It recalled that stormy night and enclosed a round-trip ticket to New York, asking the young man to pay them a visit.


The old man met him in New York, and led him to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 34th Street. He then pointed to a great new building there, a palace of reddish stone, with turrets and watchtowers thrusting up to the sky.


“That,” said the older man, “is the hotel I have just built for you to manage.”


“You must be joking,” the young man said.


“I can assure you I am not,” said the older man, a sly smile playing around his mouth.


The older man’s name was William Waldorf Astor, and the magnificent structure was the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.


The young clerk who became its first manager was George C. Boldt. This young clerk never foresaw the turn of events that would lead him to become the manager of one of the world’s most glamorous hotels.


The Bible says that we are not to turn our backs on those who are in need, for we might be entertaining angels. Life is more accurately measured by the lives you touch than the things you acquire…
A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the treetop, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow…he loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time went by…the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree every day.


One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad . “Come and play with me” the tree asked the boy. “I am no longer a kid, I do not play around trees any more” the boy replied. “I want toys. I need money to buy them.” “Sorry, but I do not have money… but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money.” The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was deeply saddened.


One day, the boy who now turned into a man returned and the tree was excited “Come and play with me” the tree said. “I do not have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me ? ” ” Sorry, but I do not have any house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house.” So the man cut all the branches of the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the man never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and upset.


One hot summer day, the man returned and the tree was delighted. “Come and play with me!” the tree said. “I am getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat ?” said the man . “Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy.” So the man cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.


Finally, the man returned after many years. ” Sorry, my boy. But I do not have anything for you anymore. No more apples for you …” the tree said. “No problem, I do not have any teeth to bite” the man replied. “No more trunk for you to climb on” “I am too old for that now” the man said. “I really cannot give you anything… the only thing left is my dying roots” the tree said with tears. “I do not need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years” the man replied. “Good! Old tree roots are the best place to lean on and rest, Come, come sit down with me and rest.” The man sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears…


This is a story for everyone. The tree is like our parents.


When we were young, we loved to play with our Mum and Dad…


When we grow up, we leave them…only come to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could just to make you happy.


You may think the boy is cruel to the tree, but that is how all of us treat our parents.


We take them for granted we don’t appreciate all they do for us, UNTIL it’s too late. May GOD forgive us of our shortcomings and may He Guide us. Amen.


Love your Parents…………..


And your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him. And that you be dutiful to your parents. If one of them or both of them attain old age in your life, say not to them a word of disrespect, nor shout at them but address them in terms of honour. And lower unto them the wing of submission and humility through mercy, and say:


“My Lord! Bestow on them Your Mercy as they did bring me up when I was small.”
A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin, 5, and Ryan, 3. The boys began to argue over who would get the first pancake. Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson. If Jesus were sitting here, He would say, 'Let my brother have the first pancake. I can wait.' Kevin turned to his younger brother and said, 'Ryan, you be Jesus.'
By the time the Lord made mothers, He was into the sixth day working overtime.  An Angel  appeared and said "Why are you spending so much  time on this one?" 

And the Lord answered and  said, "Have you read the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not elastic; have 200 movable parts, all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up; have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart; and have six pairs of hands."

The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No way!"  said the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem.  It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"  

"And that's on the standard model?" the Angel asked. 

The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head.  They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word." 

The Angel tried to stop the Lord  "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish." 

"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself  when she is sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower."  

The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord." 

"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."

"Will she be able to think?" asked the Angel.  

The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."

The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like You have a leak with this model. I told You that You were trying to put too much into  this one."

"That's not a leak." the Lord objected.  "That's a tear!" 

"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.  

The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."   

The Angel was impressed.  "You are a genius, Lord.  You thought of everything for this one.  You even created the tear!"

The Lord looked at the Angel and smiled and said, "I'm afraid you are wrong again.  I created the woman, but she created the tear!"

Stories of the Week