THE WEATHERED OLD BARN

Source: stock-clip.com

A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right off he was crazy. He was a city type. You could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands, and the way he talked.

He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty. Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's beat down on that ole' barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.

That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun...only that can produce beautiful barn wood.

It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure, we turn silver gray, too... and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using the hard wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy!

They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man's house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch. And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been through here... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's house.

A FATALISTIC ATTITUDE

A terrible storm came into a town and local officials sent out an emergency warning that the riverbanks would soon overflow and flood the nearby homes. They ordered everyone in the town to evacuate immediately.

A faithful Christian man heard the warning and decided to stay, saying to himself, “I will trust God and if I am in danger, then God will send a divine miracle to save me.”

The neighbors came by his house and said to him, “We’re leaving and there is room for you in our car, please come with us!” But the man declined. “I have faith that God will save me.”

As the man stood on his porch watching the water rise up the steps, a man in a canoe paddled by and called to him, “Hurry and come into my canoe, the waters are rising quickly!” But the man again said, “No thanks, God will save me.”

The floodwaters rose higher pouring water into his living room and the man had to retreat to the second floor. A police motorboat came by and saw him at the window. “We will come up and rescue you!” they shouted. But the man refused, waving them off saying, “Use your time to save someone else! I have faith that God will save me!”

The flood waters rose higher and higher and the man had to climb up to his rooftop.

A helicopter spotted him and dropped a rope ladder. A rescue officer came down the ladder and pleaded with the man, "Grab my hand and I will pull you up!" But the man still refused, folding his arms tightly to his body. “No thank you! God will save me!”

Shortly after, the house broke up and the floodwaters swept the man away and he drowned.

When in Heaven, the man stood before God and asked, “I put all of my faith in You. Why didn’t You come and save me?”

And God said, “Son, I sent you a warning. I sent you a car. I sent you a canoe. I sent you a motorboat. I sent you a helicopter. What more were you looking for?”

This is a wonderful illustration that explains how God will place different people in our paths of life to help us in our times of need.

The only way to overcome the fatalistic attitude is to accept responsibility and believe in the law of cause and effect rather than luck.

It takes action, preparation and planning rather than waiting, wondering or wishing, to accomplish anything in life.

OFFERING ENCOURAGEMENT

A minister in a little church had been having trouble with the collections.
 
One Sunday he announced, "Now, before we pass the collection plate, I would like to request that the person who stole the chickens from Brother Martin's hen house please refrain from giving any money to the Lord.  The Lord doesn't want money from a thief!"

The collection plate was passed around, and for the first time in months everybody gave.

SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls.

He looked down into the eyes of a little boy. “Mister,” the lad said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.” “Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”

The boy thought for a moment. Then, reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?” “Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle, “Here, Dolly!” he called.

Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly, followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As the dogs came up to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Another little ball appeared;
slowly and awkwardly, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up.

“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt. The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would.” At that, the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg, attached to a specially made
shoe.

Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see, sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”

ORDINARY JUST ISN'T ENOUGH

For some time I've had a church member provide me with a rose boutonniere to pin on the lapel of my suit every Sunday. Because I always got a flower on Sunday morning, I really did not think much of it. It was a nice gesture that became routine. One Sunday, however, what I considered ordinary became very special.

As I was leaving the Sunday service a young man approached and said, "Sir, what are you going to do with your flower?" At first I did not know what he was talking about, but then I understood. I said, "Do you mean this?" as I pointed to the rose pinned to my coat.

He said, "Yes sir. I would like it if you are just going to throw it away." The little boy said, "Sir, I'm going to give it to my granny. My mother and father got divorced last year. I was living with my mother, but I could not stay, so she sent me to live with my grandmother. She has been so good to me that I want to give that pretty flower to her for loving me."

When the little boy finished I could hardly speak. My eyes filled with tears and I knew I had been touched in the depths of my soul. I reached up and unpinned my flower. With the flower in my hand, I looked at the boy and said, "Son, that is the nicest thing I have ever heard, but you can't have this flower because it's not enough. If you'll look in front of the pulpit, you'll see a big bouquet of flowers. Different families buy them for the church each week. Please take those flowers to your granny because she deserves the very best."

If I hadn't been touched enough already, he made one last statement and I will always cherish it. He said, "What a wonderful day! I asked for one flower but got a beautiful bouquet."

THE 8 LIES OF A MOTHER

The story began when I was a child; I was a son of a poor family. We did not even have enough food. When ever meal times came, mother would often give me her portion of rice. While she was removing her rice into my bowl, she would say "Eat this rice, son. I'm not hungry."

That was Mother's First Lie.

When I was growing up, my persevering mother gave her spare time to go fishing in a river near our house, she hoped that from the fish she caught, she could gave me a little bit of nutritious food for my growth. After fishing, she would cook some fresh fish soup, which raised my appetite. While I was eating the soup, mother would sit beside me and eat the rest of the fish, which was still on the bone of the fish I had eaten. My heart was touched when I saw that. I then used my chopstick and gave the other fish to her. But she immediately refused and said "Eat this fish, son. I don't really like fish."

That was Mother's Second Lie. 

Then, when I was in Junior High School...... to fund my studies, mother went to an economic enterprise to bring some used-match boxes that would need to be stuck together. It gave her some money to cover our needs. As the winter came, I woke up from my sleep and looked at my mother who was still awake, supported by a little candlelight and with perseverance she would continue the work of sticking some used-match boxes. I said, "Mother, go to sleep, it's late, tomorrow morning you still have to go to work.” Mother smiled and said "Go to sleep, dear. I'm not tired."

That was Mother's Third Lie.

The final term arrived..... ..Mother asked for leave from work in order to accompany me. While the sun was starting to shine strongly, my persevering mother waited for me under the heat for several hours. As the bell rang, which indicated that the final exam had finished, mother immediately welcomed me and poured me a cup of tea that she had brought in a flask. Seeing my mother covered with perspiration, I at once gave her my cup and asked her to drink too. Mother said "Drink, son. I'm not thirsty! "

That was Mother's Fourth Lie. 

After the death of my father due to illness, my poor mother had to play her role as a single parent. She had to fund our needs alone. Our family's life was more complicated. No days without suffering. Our family's condition was getting worse, a kind uncle who lived near our house assisted now and then. Our neighbors often advised my mother to marry again. But mother was stubborn and didn't take their advice; she said "I don't need love."

That was Mother's Fifth Lie.

After I had finished my studies and got a job, it was the time for my old mother to retire. But she didn't want to; she would go to the market place every morning, just to sell some vegetables to fulfill her needs. I, who worked in another city, often sent her some money to help her, in fulfilling her needs, but she would not accept the money. At times, she even sent the money back to me. She said "I have enough money."

That was Mother's Sixth Lie. 

After graduating with a Bachelors Degree, I then continued to do a Masters Degree. It was funded by a company through a scholarship program. I finally worked in the company. With a good salary, I intended to bring my mother to enjoy her life in Gulf. But my lovely mother didn't want to bother her son. She said to me, "I’m not use to."

That was Mother's Seventh Lie.

In her old age, mother got stomach cancer and had to be hospitalized. I, who lived miles away, across the ocean, went home to visit my dearest mother. She lay in weakness on her bed after having an operation. Mother, who looked so old, was staring at me in deep thought. She tried to spread her smile on her face...but it was a noticeable effort. It was clear that the disease had weakened mother's body. She looked so frail and weak. I stared at my mother with tears flowing. My heart was hurt,... so hurt, seeing my mother in that condition. But mother with the little strength she had, said "Don't cry, my dear. I'm not in pain."

That was Mother's Eighth and Last Lie. After saying her eighth lie, my Dearest mother closed her eyes forever.

REBELLION AGAINST THE STOMACH

Once a man had a dream in which his hands and feet and mouth and brain all began to rebel against his stomach.

"You good-for-nothing sluggard!" the hands said. "We work all day long, sawing and hammering and lifting and carrying. By evening we're covered with blisters and scratches, and our joints ache, and we're covered with dirt. And meanwhile you just sit there, hogging all the food."

"We agree!" cried the feet. "Think how sore we get, walking back and forth all day long. And you just stuff yourself full, you greedy pig, so that you're that much heavier to carry about."

"That's right!" whined the mouth. "Where do you think all that food you love comes form? I'm the one who has to chew it all up, and as soon as I'm finished you suck it all down for yourself. Do you call that fair?"

"And what about me?" called the brain. "Do you think it's easy being up here, having to think about where your next meal is going to come from? And yet I get nothing at all for my pains."

And one by one the parts of the body joined the complaint against the stomach, which didn't say anything at all. 
"I have an idea," the brain finally announced. "Let's all rebel against the lazy belly, and stop working for it."

"Superb idea!" all the other members and organs agreed. "We'll teach you how important we are, you pig. Then maybe you'll do a little work of your own."

So they all stopped working. The hands refused to do lifting and carrying. The feet refused to walk. The mouth promised not to chew or swallow a single bite. And the brain swore it wouldn't come up with any more bright ideas. At first the stomach growled a bit, as it always did when it was hungry. But after a while it was quiet.

Then, to the dreaming man's surprise, he found he could not walk. He could not grasp anything in his hand. He could not even open his mouth. And he suddenly began to feel rather ill.

The dream seemed to go on for several days. As each day passed, the man felt worse and worse. "This rebellion had better not last much longer," he thought to himself, "or I'll starve."

Meanwhile, the hands and feet and mouth and brain just lay there, getting weaker and weaker. At first they roused themselves just enough to taunt the stomach every once in a while, but before long they didn't even have the energy for that.

Finally the man heart a faint voice coming from the direction of his feet.

"It could be that we were wrong," they were saying. "We suppose the stomach might have been working in his own way all along."

"I was just thinking the same thing," murmured the brain. "It's true that he's been getting all the food. But it seems he's been sending most of it right back to us."

"We might as well admit our error," the mouth said. "The stomach has just as much work to do as the hands and feet and brain and teeth."

"Then let's get back to work," they cried together. And at that the man woke up.

To his relief, he discovered his feet could walk again. His hands could grasp, his mouth could chew, and his brain could now think clearly. He began to feel much better.

"Well, there's a lesson for me," he thought as he filled his stomach at breakfast. "Either we all work together, or nothing works at all."

DIVING INTO GOD

A young man who had been raised as an atheist was training to be an Olympic diver. The only religious influence in his life came from his outspoken Christian friend.

The young diver never really paid much attention to his friend’s sermons, but he heard them often.

One night the diver went to the indoor pool at the college he attended. The lights were all off, but as the pool had big skylights and the moon was bright, there was plenty of light to practice by.

The young man climbed up to the highest diving board and as he turned his back to the pool on the edge of the board and extended his arms out, he saw his shadow on the wall. The shadow of his body was in the shape of a cross.

Instead of diving, he knelt down and asked God to come into his life. As the young man stood, a maintenance man walked in and turned the lights on.

The pool had been drained for repairs.

TRIPLE FILTER TEST

In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?"

"Hold on a minute," Socrates replied. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be good idea to take a moment and filter what you’re going to say. That’s why I call it the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"

"Well, no," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and..."

"All right," said Socrates. "So you don’t really know if it’s true or not. Now, let’s try the second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?"

"Umm, no, on the contrary..."

"So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about my friend, but you’re not certain it’s true. You may still pass the test though, because there’s one filter left—the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?"

"No, not really."

"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true, nor good, nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?"

THE TEACHER

Stories like this, always have a way of putting the right perspective on life.

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. And that was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkept and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant.

It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then marking the F at the top of the paper biggest of all. Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him, either.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's records and put Teddy's off until last. When she opened his file, she was in for a surprise. His first-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."

His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well-liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."

His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."

Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the problem, but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus on Teddy Stoddard.

Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissored grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents.

Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."

After the children left she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and speaking. Instead, she began to teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to one they all called "Teddy."

As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the class and...well, he had also become the "pet" of the teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he'd had in elementary school, she was his favorite. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy.

He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite teacher, but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn't end there. You see, there was yet another letter that Spring. Teddy said he'd met this girl and was to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering...well, if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom. And guess what, she wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And I bet on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like...well, just like the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas together.

You never can tell what type of impact you may make on another's life by your actions or lack of action. Consider this fact in your venture through life.

APPEARANCE CAN BE DECEPTIVE

A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston, and walked timidly without an appointment into the president's outer office. The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge. She frowned.

"We want to see the president," the man said softly.

"He'll be busy all day," the secretary snapped.

"We'll wait," the lady replied.

For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn't. And the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted to do. "Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they'll leave," she told him. And he sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office. The president, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple.

The lady told him, "We had a son that attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus". The president wasn't touched he was shocked.

"Madam," he said gruffly, "we can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we did, this place would look like a cemetery."

"Oh, no," the lady explained quickly, "we don't want to erect a statue. We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard.

The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, then exclaimed, "A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical plant at Harvard." For a moment the lady was silent.

The president was pleased. He could get rid of them now.

The lady turned to her husband and said quietly, "Is that all it costs to start a University? Why don't we just start our own?" Her husband nodded. The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment.

Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they established the University that bears their name, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about!

TWO CHOICES IN LIFE

 
Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!" He was a unique manager because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator.

If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation. Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?"

Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, 'Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes, it is," Jerry said. "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life." 

I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon thereafter, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in a restaurant business: he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gunpoint by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the combination. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. 

After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.

I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him 



how he was, he replied, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?"

I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices: I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live."

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.

Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!' Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'"

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

LETTER IN THE WALLET

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.

It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah.

It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!"

"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter."

She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "

Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television."

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.

She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael."

She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said Softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."

"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..."

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?"

I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet."

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."

"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.

On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"

"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"

I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward."

"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"

"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."

He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.

"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly.

The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her."

"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me."

We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?"

She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.

Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"

She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!"

He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.

"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!"

It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall.

They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.

A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

I ASKED GOD TO...

Grant me patience. God said, No.
Patience is a by-product of tribulations; it isn’t granted,
it is earned.

Give me happiness. God said, No.
I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you.

Spare me pain. God said, No.
Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings
you closer to me.

Make my spirit grow. God said, No.
You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to
make you fruitful.

Help me enjoy life. God said, No.
I will give you life so that you may enjoy all things.

Help me love others, as much as he loves me.
God said … Ahhhh, finally you have the idea!

SEVEN UPS GUARANTEED TO LIFT YOUR DAY

Wake Up.
Decide to have a good day. “Today is the day the LORD
hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”—Psalm 118:24

Dress Up.
Put on a smile. A smile is an inexpensive way to
improve your looks. “The LORD does not look at the
things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance;
but the LORD looks at the heart.” —I Samuel 16:7

Shut Up.
Say nice things and learn to listen. God gave us two
ears and one mouth, so he must have meant for us to
do twice as much listening as talking. “He who guards
his lips guards his soul.”—Proverbs 13:3

Stand Up.
For what you believe in. Stand for something or you
will fall for anything. “Let us not be weary in doing
good; for at the proper time, we will reap a harvest if
we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity,
let us do good.”—Galatians 6:9-10

Look Up.
To the Lord. “I can do everything through Christ who
strengthens me.”—Philippians 4:13

Reach Up.
For something higher. “Trust in the LORD with all your
heart, and lean not unto your own understanding. In
all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct
your path.”—Proverbs 3:5-6

Lift Up.
Your prayers. “Do not worry about anything; instead,
pray about everything.”—Philippians 4:6

SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted
a sign advertising the pups and set about nailing it to
a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail
into the post, he felt a tug on his overalls.
He looked down into the eyes of a little boy. “Mister,” the
lad said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.” “Well,” said
the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck,
“these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of
money.”
The boy thought for a moment. Then, reaching deep into
his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to
the farmer. “I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take
a look?” “Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a
whistle, “Here, Dolly!” he called.
Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly, followed
by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face
against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As
the dogs came up to the fence, the little boy noticed something
else stirring inside the doghouse. Another little ball appeared;
slowly and awkwardly, the little pup began hobbling
toward the others, doing its best to catch up.
“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you
don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play
with you like these other dogs would.” At that, the little boy
stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling
up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace
running down both sides of his leg, attached to a speciallymade
shoe.
Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see, sir, I don’t
run too well myself, and he will need someone who
understands.”

FORGIVENESS

Every man should keep a fair-sized cemetary in which to bury the faults of his friends.

Henry Ward Beecher

Forgiveness of sins is the very heart of Christianity, and yet it is a mighty dangerous thing to preach.

Martin Luther

The degree to which I am able and willing to forgive others is a clear indication of the extent to which I have personally experienced God my Father’s forgiveness for me. The corollary to this is that anyone who is not willing to forgive another has certainly not known God’s loving forgiveness.

Philipp Keller

God gives His forgiveness in a way that will maintain respect for His laws.

Ruth Copeland

I think that if God forgives us we must forgive ourselves. Otherwise it is almost like setting ourselves up as a higher tribunal than Him.

C.S. Lewis

Whenever I see myself before God and realize something of what my blessed Lord has done for me at Calvary, I am ready to forgive anybody anything. I cannot withhold it. I do not even want to withhold it.

Martin Lloyd-Jones

The best testimony that Stephen bore was his last: not when preaching and working miracles, but when he pleaded for his persecutors; for then he most resembled the Lord Jesus in patience, forgiveness and love.

Robert C. Chapman

The wisdom of God has ordained a way for the love of God to deliver us from the wrath of God without compromising the justice of God.

John Piper

God has cast our confessed sins into the depths of the sea, and He's even put a "no fishing" sign over the spot.

Dwight L. Moody

Grace despised is grace forfeited, like Esau's birthright. They that will not have Christ when they may shall not have him when they would.

Matthew Henry

Night and day I pondered until I saw the connection between the justice of God and the statement that 'the just shall live by his faith.' Then I grasped that the justice of God is that righteousness by which through grace and sheer mercy God justifies us through faith. Thereupon I felt myself to be reborn and to have gone through open doors into paradise.

Martin Luther

FRIENDSHIP

It is one of the severest tests of friendship to tell your friend his faults. So to love a man that you cannot bear to see a stain upon him, and to speak painful truth through loving words, that is friendship.

Henry Ward Beecher

Dyson and Tolkien were the immediate causes of my conversion. Is any pleasure on earth as great as a circle of Christian friends by a good fire?

C.S. Lewis

Every man should keep a fair-sized cemetary in which to bury the faults of his friends.

Henry Ward Beecher

A true friend is the gift of God, and he only who made hearts can unite them.

Robert South

How great victory was that which Jonathon must have gained over himself, when he rejoiced to see David raised above him! He discerned the mind of God in David, and had so learned to delight in God, that he did not see in David one who was to outshine him, but another faithful man raised up for God and Israel.

Robert C. Chapman

The next best thing to being wise oneself is to live in a circle of those who are.

C.S. Lewis

We picture lovers face to face but friends side by side; their eyes look ahead.

C.S. Lewis

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.

C.S. Lewis

The poor dunce who says, "If I go to hell, I'll have plenty of friends," will be forever shocked to find that in hell nobody will have any friends! Everyone will be the eternal enemy of everyone else.

William Deal

FAITH

God never promises to remove us from our struggles. He does promise, however, to change the way we look at them.

Max Lucado

Faith is to believe what we do not see, and the reward of this faith is to see what we believe.

Augustine

Past grace is glorified by intense and joyful gratitude. Future grace is glorified by intense and joyful confidence. This faith is what frees us and empowers us for venturesome obedience n the cause of Christ.

John Piper

Only if we trust God to turn past calamities into future comfort can we look with gratitude for all things.

John Piper

Faith , like light, should always be simple and unbending; while love, like warmth, should beam forth on every side, and bend to every necessity of our brethren.

Martin Luther

Faith is awe in the presence of the divine incognito.

Karl Barth

Those who pin their faith on other men's sleeves, and walk in the way of the world, have turned away from following after Christ.

Matthew Henry

Faith is a living, daring confidence in God's grace. It is so sure and certain that a man could stake his life on it a thousand times.

Martin Luther

Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading.

Oswald Chambers

Relying on God has to begin all over again every day as if nothing yet had been done.

C.S. Lewis

We trust not because "a God" exists, but because this God exists.

C.S. Lewis

There are three acts of faith; assent, acceptance, and assurance.

John Flavel

When you have no helpers, see your helpers in God. When you have many helpers, see God in all your helpers. When you have nothing but God, see all in God. When you have everything, see God in everything. Under all conditions, stay thy heart only on the Lord.

Charles Spurgeon

A little faith will bring your soul to heaven, but a lot of faith will bring heaven to your soul.

Dwight L. Moody

Unfaith turns Christianity into only a philosophy. Of course, Christianity is a philosophy -- though not a rationalistic one because we have not worked it out from ourselves. Rather, God has told us the answers. In this sense it is the true philosophy, for it gives the right answers to man's philosophic and intellectual questions. However, while it is the true philosophy, our Father in heaven did not mean it to be only theorectical or abstract. He meant it to tell us about Himself -- how we can get to heaven, but equally, how we can live right now in the universe as it is with both the seen and the unseen portions standing in equal reality. If Christians just use Christianity as a matter of mental assent between conversion and death, if they only use it to answer intellectual questions, it is like using a silver spoon for a screw driver. I can believe that a silver spoon makes a good screw driver at certain times. But it is made for something else. To take the silver spoon that's meant to feed you, moment by moment, and keep it in your tool box to use only as a screw driver is silly.

Francis Schaeffer

Faith goes up the stairs that love has made and looks out of the windows which hope has opened.

Charles Spurgeon

Apologetic work is so dangerous to one's faith. A doctrine never seems dimmer to me than when I have just successfully defended it.

C.S. Lewis

God loves with a great love the man whose heart is bursting with a passion for the impossible.

William Booth

Conversion, then, is repentance (turning from sin and unbelief) and faith (trusting in Christ alone for salvation). They are two sides of the same coin. One side is tails -- turn tail on the fruits of unbelief. The other side is heads -- head straight for Jesus and trust his promises. You can't have the one without the other any more than you can face two ways at once, or serve two masters.

John Piper

Night and day I pondered until I saw the connection between the justice of God and the statement that 'the just shall live by his faith.' Then I grasped that the justice of God is that righteousness by which through grace and sheer mercy God justifies us through faith. Thereupon I felt myself to be reborn and to have gone through open doors into paradise.

Martin Luther

Christianity is not just a mental assent that certain doctrines are true -- not even that the right doctrines are true. This is only the beginning. This would be rather like a starving man sitting in front of great heaps of food and saying, "I believe the food exists; I believe it is real," and yet never eating it. It is not enough merely to say, "I am a Christian," and then in practice to live as if present contact with the supernatural were something far off and strange. Many Christians I know seem to act as though they come in contact with the supernatural just twice -- once when they are justified and become a Christian and once when they die. The rest of the time they act as though they were sitting in the materialist's chair.

Francis Schaeffer

We have a God who delights in impossibilities.

Billy Sunday

Oh! men and brethren, what would this heart feel if I could but believe that there were some among you who would go home and pray for a revival ­ men whose faith is large enough, and their love fiery enough to lead them from this moment to exercise unceasing intercessions that God would appear among us and do wondrous things here, as in the times of former generations.

Charles Spurgeon

So-called "positive thinking" is no weapon against fear. Only positive faith can rout the black menace of fear and give life radiance.

Marion Hilliard

The word hope I take for faith; and indeed hope is nothing else but the constancy of faith.

John Calvin

As the flower is before the fruit, so is faith before good works.

Richard Whatley

The great act of faith is when a man decides that he is not God.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.

Corrie ten Boom

Faith sees the invisible, believes the unbelievable, and receives the impossible.

Corrie ten Boom

It must be asserted that petitionary prayer only flourishes where there is a twofold belief: that God's name is hallowed too irregularly, his kingdom has come too little, and his will is done too infrequently; second, that God himself can change this situation.

David F. Wells

Expect great things from God; attempt great things for God.

William Carey

I have found that there are three stages in every great work of God: first, it is impossible, then it is difficult, then it is done.

Hudson Taylor

Our twentieth century, far from being notable for scientific scepticism, is one of the most credulous eras in all history. It is not that people believe in nothing - which would be bad enough - but that they believe in anything - which is really terrible.

Malcolm Muggeridge

THE LAST TRACT

Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at their church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out gospel tracts. This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside as well as pouring down rain.

The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said - "OK dad, I'm ready."

His Pastor dad asked, "Ready for what?"

"Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out."

Dad responds, "Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring down rain."

The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, "But dad, aren't people still going to hell, even though it's raining?"

Dad answers, "Son, I am not going out in this weather."

Despondently the boy asks, "Dad, can I go, Please?"

His father hesitated for a moment then said, "Son, you can go. Here are the tracts. Be careful son."

"Thanks Dad!"

And with that he was off and out into the rain.

This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a gospel tract. After two hours of walking in the rain he was soaking bone chilled wet and down to his very last tract. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to but the streets were totally deserted. Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell.

He rang the bell - but nobody answered. He rang it again and again but, still no one answered. He waited but still no answer. Finally this eleven year old trooper turned to leave but something stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch. He rang again, and this time the door slowly opened.

Standing in the doorway was a very sad looking elderly lady. She softly asked, "What can I do for you son?"

With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world this little boy said, "Mama, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that Jesus really does love you, and I came to give you my very last gospel tract which will tell you all about Jesus and His great love."

With that he handed her his last tract, and turned to leave.

She called to him as he departed, "Thank you son! And God Bless You!"

Well, the following Sunday morning in Church, Pastor Dad was in the pulpit and as the service began he asked, "Does anybody have a testimony or want to say anything?"

Slowly, in the back row of the Church, an elderly lady stood to her feet.

As she began to speak a look of glorious radiance came from her face as she said, "None of you in this church know me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on, some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world.”

“Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart as I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and brokenhearted, I was about to leap off when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me.”

“I thought - I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away. I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly. I thought to myself again - "who on earth could this be?! Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me." I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder.”

“When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes for there on my front porch was the most radiant and Angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His smile, Oh, I could never describe it to you! And the words that came from his mouth caused my heart, that had long been dead, to leap to life as he exclaimed with cherub like voice, "Mam, I just came to tell you that Jesus really does love you." Then he gave me this gospel tract that I now hold in my hand. As the little angel disappeared back out, into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this gospel tract.”

“Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them any more. You see, I am now a happy child of the King, and since the address of your Church was on the back of this gospel tract I have come here to personally say ‘thank you’ to God’s little angel who came just in the nick of time and, by so doing, spared my soul from eternity in hell.”

There were now no dry eyes in the Church. And as shouts of praise, and honor to the King, resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated; He took him in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.