Author: Steve Lawrence

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone. Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often?

When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror. The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in his hand.

Bob? Bob from Church?

Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little eager to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.

Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he’d never seen in uniform. “Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.”

“Hello, Jack.” No smile.

“Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Bob seemed uncertain. Good.

“I’ve seen some long days at the office lately. I’m afraid I bent the rules a bit – just this once.”

Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement. “Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct.” Ouch. This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.

“What’d you clock me at?”

“Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?”

“Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you, I was barely nudging 65.” The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

“Please, Jack, in the car”

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window.

The minutes ticked by, Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn’t he asked for a driver’s license?

Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again.

A tap on the door jerked his head to the left. There was Bob, a folded paper in hand Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.

“Thanks.” Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.

Bob returned to his police car without a word. Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?

Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke?

Certainly not a ticket, Jack began to read:

“Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it – a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters, all three of them. I only had one, and I’m going to have to wait until Heaven before I can ever hug her again.

A thousand times I’ve tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now. Pray for me. And be careful, Jack, my son is all I have left.”

“Bob”

Jack turned around in time to see Bob’s car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared.

A full 15 minutes later, he too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

Life is precious. Handle with care. Drive safely and carefully. Remember, cars are not the only things recalled by their maker.

Author: Unknown

For the wife
Who says it’s hot dogs tonight, because she is home with me, and not out with someone else.

For the husband
Who is on the sofa being a couch potato, because he is home with me and not out at the bars.

For the teenager
Who is complaining about doing dishes because it means she is at home, not on the streets.

For the taxes I pay
Because it means I am employed.

For the mess to clean after a party
Because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

For the clothes that fit a little too snug
Because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work
Because it means I am out in the sunshine.

For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing
Because it means I have a home.

For all the complaining I hear about the government
Because it means we have freedom of speech.

For the parking spot I find at the end of the parking lot
Because it means I am capable of walking and I have been blessed with transportation.

For my huge heating bill
Because it means I am warm.

For the lady behind me in church who sings off key
Because it means I can hear.

For the pile of laundry and ironing
Because it means I have clothes to wear.

For the weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day
Because it means I have been capable of working hard.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours
Because it means I am alive.

And I am thankful:

For the crazy people I work with
Because they make work interesting and fun!

Author: Unknown

He never taught a lesson in a classroom…

He had no tools to work with, such as blackboards, maps or charts…

He used no subject outlines, kept no records, gave no grades, and His only test was ancient and well worn…

His students were the poor, the lame, the deaf, the blind, the outcast – and His method was the same with all who came to hear and learn…

He opened eyes with faith…

He opened ears with simple truth…

And opened hearts with love, a love of forgiveness…

A gentle man, a humble man, He asked and won no honors, no glad awards or tribute to His expertise or wisdom…

And yet this quiet teacher from the hills of Galilee has fed the needs, fulfilled the hopes, and changed the lives of many millions…

For what He taught brought heavens to earth and revealed God’s heart to mankind.

Lord may we follow in your footsteps and touch someone today.

May the sunshine of hope fill your heart and warm your touch.

 

Author: Unknown

Do not worship any other gods

Do not make idols of any kind

Do not misuse the name of God

Remember to observe the Sabbath day

Honor your father and mother

Do not murder

Do not commit adultery

Do not steal

Do not testify falsely against anyone

Do not covet anything from someone else

Author: Unknown

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods.

They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, “Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver, and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty.”

Then the second tree said, “Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull.”

Finally the third tree said, “I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me.”

After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, “This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter,” and he began cutting it down.

The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest. At the second tree the woodsman said, “This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard.” The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.

When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, “I don’t need anything special from my tree, I’ll take this one,” and he cut it down.

When the first tree arrived at the carpenter’s, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end.

The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams. Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.

Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn’t think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said “Peace” and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in it’s boat.

Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop; the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.

---

The moral of this story is that when things don’t seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts. Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don’t always know what God’s plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

Author: Unknown

The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before…

“Leave me alone,” he growled. To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling – her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “No,” he answered sarcastically. “I’ve just come from dining with the president. Now go away.” The woman’s smile became even broader. Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm. “What are you doing, lady?” the man asked angrily. “I said to leave me alone. “ Just then a policeman came up. “Is there any problem, ma’am?” he asked. “No problem here, officer,” the woman answered. “I’m just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?” The officer scratched his head. “That’s old Jack. He’s been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?” “See that cafeteria over there?” she asked. “I’m going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile.” “Are you crazy, lady?” the homeless man resisted. “I don’t want to go in there!” Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up. “Let me go, officer, I didn’t do anything…” “This is a good deal for you, Jack,” the officer answered. “Don’t blow it.”

Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at the table in a remote corner. It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived. The manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by his table “What’s going on here officer?” he asked. “What is all this, is this man in trouble?” “This lady brought this man in here to be fed” the policeman answered.

“Not in here!” the manager replied angrily. “Having a person like that here is bad for business.” Old Jack smiled a toothless grin “See lady, I told you so. Now if you’ll let me go…I didn’t want to come here in the first place”.

The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled. “Sir are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?” “Of course I am,” the manager answered impatiently. “They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms.” “And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?”

“What business is that of yours?” I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company.”

“Oh…”

The woman smiled again. “I thought that might make a difference.” She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a laugh. “Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?”

“No thanks, ma’am,” the officer replied. “I’m on duty.” “Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?” “Yes, ma’am. That would be very nice.” The cafeteria manager turned on his heel. “I’ll get your coffee for you right away, officer.” The officer watched him walk away. “You certainly put him in his place.” he said. “That was not my intent…believe it or not, I have a reason for all this.” She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest. She stared at him intently. “Jack, do you remember me?” Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes.

“I think so – I mean you do look familiar.”

“I’m a little older perhaps,” she said. “Maybe I’ve even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry.” “Ma’am?” the officer said questioningly. He couldn’t believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry.

“I was just out of college,” the woman began. “I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn’t find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment…I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving. I saw this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat.”

Jack lit up with a smile. “Now I remember,” he said. “I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy.” “I know,” the woman continued. “Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble. Then, when I looked over and saw you put the price of my food int he cash register, I knew then that everything would be all right.” “So you started your own business?” Old Jack asked.

“I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered…” She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. “When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons. He’s the personnel director of my company. I’ll go talk to him now and I’m certain he’ll find something for you to do around the office.”

She smiled. “I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you.”

There were tears in the old man’s eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” he asked. “Don’t thank me,” the woman answered. “To God goes the glory. He led me to you.” Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways…“Thank you for all your help, officer,” she said. “On the contrary, Ms. Eddy,” he answered. “Thank you. I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget and thank you for the coffee.”

Author: Unknown

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease.

Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.

The doctor explained the situation to her little brother and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.

I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, ‘Yes I’ll do it if it will save her.’ As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek.

Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.

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

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

Coco Brooks is a member of the Canadian Blood Services Partners for Life Program. Click Here to find out how you can also give blood!

Author: Unknown

A story is told…

In 1899, four reporters from Denver, Colorado met by chance one night in the Denver railway station. Al Stevens, Jack Tournay, John Lewis, and Hal Wilshire worked for the four Denver newspapers: The Post, The Times, The Republican, and The Rocky Mountain News.

Each had their usual challenging task of finding a scoop for the upcoming Sunday edition. They hoped to spot a visiting celebrity arriving that evening by train. However, none showed up, so the journalists wondered what they would report on. As they discussed options in a nearby tavern, Al suggested that they make up a story. The other three laughed – at first, but after a few drinks, they all agreed – they would make up such an interesting tale that no one would question it, and their respective editors would congratulate them on their find.

A phony local story would be too obvious, so they decided to write about someplace far away – like China. “What if we say that some American engineers, on their way to China, told us they are bidding on a major job; the Chinese government is planning to demolish the Great Wall?” Harold was not so sure the story would be believable. “Why would the Chinese ever tear down the Great Wall?” asked Harold. “As a sign of international goodwill and to invite foreign trade.”

By midnight, the four men had worked out the details. The next day, all four Denver newspapers carried the story – on the front page! The Times headline that Sunday read: “Great Chinese Wall Doomed – Peking Seeks World Trade!” Of course, the story was a ridiculous tall tale made up by four opportunistic reporters in a hotel bar. But amazingly, their story was taken seriously and soon ran in newspapers in the eastern U.S. and even abroad.

When the citizens of China began hearing that the Americans were sending a demolition crew to dismantle the Great Wall, most were indignant and even enraged. Particularly angry were members of a right-wing party made up of Chinese patriots against any kind of openness to foreigners. Moved to action by the news story, they began attacking foreign embassies in Peking and even murdered numerous missionaries in China. In the next two months, 12,000 troops from six different countries came to China to help protect the Great Wall. It sparked a time of bloodshed and violence that is known in history as the Boxer Rebellion.

Words are powerful and can affect more than just the ones around you. They are very influential, and can be inspirational or hurtful. It’s important to always keep your integrity, and speak the truth. You never know what kind of trouble it can cause!

Author: R. Kent Hughes

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

“Hello,” she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. “I’m building,” she said. “I see that. What is it?” I asked, not really caring. “Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of the sand.” That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. “That’s a joy,” the child said, “It’s a what?” “It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance.

“What’s your name?” She wouldn’t give up. “Robert,” I answered. “I’m Robert Peterson.” “Mine’s Wendy…I’m six.” “Hi, Wendy.” She giggled. “You’re funny,” she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. “Come again, Mr. P,” she called. “We’ll have another happy day.”

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.

“Hello, Mr. P,” she said. “Do you want to play?” “What did you have in mind?” I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. “I don’t know. You say.” “How about charades?” I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I don’t know what that is.” “Then let’s just walk.”

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?” I asked, “Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. “Where do you go to school?” “I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

“Look, if you don’t mind,” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.” She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. “Why?” she asked. I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?

“Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.” “Yes,” I said, “and yesterday and the day before and – oh, go away!” “Did it hurt?” I was exasperated with her, with myself. “When she died?” “Of course it hurt!” I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

“Hello,” I said, “I’m Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.” “Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I’m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please accept my apologies.”

“Not at all…she’s a delightful child.” I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. “Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.” Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

“She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks she declined rapidly…” Her voice faltered, “She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with “MR.P” printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues – a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY. Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words – one for each year of her life – that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.

A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand – who taught me the gift of love.

Author: Robert Peterson

Can God show up unexpectedly in a public school setting and change the hearts of students and teachers alike? Let the resounding answer from a
testimony in Canada encourage you:

“A school Principal shared with me and some ministry partners that there was a group of girls at her school that were the source of many bullying issues. She believed that we had a remedy for the problems she was facing and invited us to teach a series of workshops to the grade 7 and 8 students. We taught the students prayer evangelism in secular terms: Affirm those in your world, be a friend to them, help them and lead them. These workshops lead into the start of a new group for girls, called “ROOTS”. This group met on a weekly basis for the purpose of teaching girls about their value, the importance of character and making wise choices.

At the end of the school year, the leaders of the group hosted a beYOUtiful party for the roots group and all the grade 8 girls. Before the party we
blessed the girls and the school and prayed that God would use this opportunity to set them free.

The party kicked off with a panel of Christian ladies (Miss Teen Canada, a Miss World Canada top 15 contestant, myself, and a couple young adults). We were to begin with comments from the panel and then questions from the grade 8 girls for the panelists. Then the girls were supposed to have fun at four different stations set up around the room where they would get their hair and nails done. BUT, God showed up and we never made it to the stations. For three hours the girls in the room poured out their hearts and shared what they were going through with rejection from peers and parents. They talked about other grade 8 kids they knew who were contemplating suicide because they can’t take the pressure any more. We could feel their almost unbearable pain and everyone was broken as one girl after another exposed her hurting heart to us. In response, we stood in the gap for parents and peers and asked the girls for forgiveness for causing them to believe a lie about who they really were. We spoke the truth to them – affirming how precious, unique and loved they really are -and it went straight to their hearts, which then allowed them to extend forgiveness to those that had hurt them. ­

One girl that was an instigator in bullying stood up in front of the class and went to one of her targets. She stood before the girl weeping and then asked the girl to forgive her for all the pain she had caused her. The girl stood up, put her arms around her, forgave her and told her that she loved her and wanted to be her friend. The pain left the room and was replaced with a sense of incredible joy!! The girls left changed that day. The Principal was there and she cried through the whole thing, as did all the facilitators in the room. Teachers were coming to the door and asking what had just happened because they were seeing the girls leave and could tell something huge had happened. Even though we were not allowed to share from the Bible, nor were we really allowed to talk about God (although that did slip in a few times), I will tell you, we had Church in that public school classroom. God was there and the captives were set free.

The next week there was another meeting for the girls and the group doubled. The girls were able to report that life had truly changed for them. One girl said, “For the first time in my life, I LOVE BEING ME!” The girls reported that one group of boys was bullying a girl in the school. The girls that were in the meeting last week went up to the boys and stood between them and the girl. They said, “You may NOT say those things to her. What you are saying is not true. This girl has incredible value and we will not stand by and let you speak these lies to her.” Then they added…“You have incredible value too – you just don’t know it.” The principal of the school reported, “This school has totally changed since that day. There is a love and respect and peace that we have not experienced before.”

Author: Ed Silvoso