Inspirational Stories

[FineLinen]

Blind Horse -Author Unknown-

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each looks like every other horse. But if one stops the car, or is walking by, one will notice something quite amazing.

Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.

Listening, one will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, one will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.
Attached to her bridle is a small bell. It lets her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her.

As one stands and watches these two friends, one sees how she is always checking on him, and that he will listen for her bell and then slowly walk to where she is trusting that she will not lead him astray.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need. Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by God and those whom he places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others see.

 

[stovebolts]

I just wanted to say thanks for posting these wonderful tidbits!
Thanks!

 

[FineLinen]

Hi there Jeff....glad you are enjoying them.

The following is a letter that Ben Franklin wrote for his nephew.

The Whistle

When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one.

I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.

This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle; and I saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle.

When I saw any one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his whistle.

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, He pays, indeed, said I, too much for his whistle.

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, Mistaken man, said I, you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle.

If I see one fond of of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, Alas! says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.

When I see a beautiful sweet-tempered girl married to an ill natured brute of a husband, What a pity it is, say I, that she should pay so much for a whistle!

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.

Are you paying too much for your whistle?

 

[FineLinen]

Do Not Be Troubled!

When, after leaving Kailash, I reached the inhabited part and inquired from the people there the way to the nearest village, they, out of enmity, seeing I was a Christian, directed me to a dangerous forest path; as I was quite ignorant, I followed their direction and went that way. As I traveled, night came on, but no village appeared and the sun was setting when I arrived at the bank of a river. From every side the noise of wild animals came to my ears. I tried to cross the river but could not do so, and at length sat down in despair, feeling that things boded ill for me that day and that the end of my life was at hand. My eyes filled with tears.

Just then, when I raised my eyes and glanced across the river, I saw a man sitting and warming himself by a fire. He said,

"Do not be troubled, I am coming to help you."

I was very glad to see him as he rose and came to me, and I was amazed to see how unhesitantly and fearlessly he entered the swiftly flowing river and came out. He said to me,

"Sit on my shoulder and do not fear."

So lifting me, he very gently carried me across. The surprising thing to me was that while I could not get even myself across, yet he, bearing such a burden, came through without anxiety, I concluded: "As he is a resident of this place he is practiced in crossing, and now sitting with him I will preach the gospel to him and will also render my thanks to him." But when I turned and looked back, immediatly both the fire and the man disappeared and there were no bounds to my awe, wondering what this was....Certainly our Lord is yesterday, today and for ever the same. There is no change in him, but the change is in our faith. -Life & Writings Of Sadhu Sundar Singh-

 

[FineLinen]

The World's Ugliest Dog?

http://www.snopes.com/photos/animals/uglydog.asp

 

[Vic C.]

LOL : I've seen that before. It looks like the gremlin "Spike" for the movie "Gremlins". :o

 

[FineLinen]

The Philosophy Of George Shultz

http://www.beechwoodtrails.com/CharlesSchultz.html

Structures Slide Show

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

Brittany Maier: Playing By Ear

HERE

Brittany Maier Web Site

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

Brittany Maier: Playing By Ear

HERE

 

[BenJasher]

Of course you all are aware that the world's ugliest dog finally died about a month ago. I remember the news coming across the Yahoo newswire.

 

[FineLinen]

Of course you all are aware that the world's ugliest dog finally died about a month ago. I remember the news coming across the Yahoo newswire.

Yes, Ben, we are aware that the poor creature passed away into doggy heaven.

In Memory Of An Ugly Dog

LINK

 

[BenJasher]

Kinda sad, ain't it.

 

[FineLinen]

B.J. let's brighten up the mood! Please turn on your audio and behold.....

What You Can Learn From The Dog

HERE

 

[MrVersatile48]

I found Steven Spielberg's new film, Munich, very inspiring, in light of the plight of Israel in these 40 days till its elections on March 28 & endorse the call of http://www.God.tv to focus our prayers on God's will being done & God's people being protected in ways that show His glory, just as His Word so often promises

Praise God for their new studios at Mt Zion, helping to fulfil the promise that God's Word shall go forth to all the world from Zion

That promise wil be fully fulfilled when Christ rules all Earth from Jerusalem in the Millenium reign (of Isaiah 65:18 on to end of Isaiah 66 & end of Revelation 20)

Here's the thread @ the film:-

http://www.christianforums.net/viewtopic.php?t=20850

 

[FineLinen]

The Master's Touch

There was an organist in the ancient Cathedral at Friburg. He was so jealous of his instrument that he instructed the old caretaker never to let other fingers than his own touch the keys. He wanted sole control of the pedals and the stops and claimed that great throbbing instrument, with a thousand voices, as his own; and guarded it with jealous care.

One day, as the caretaker was cleaning out the church, an old man came in and entered into conversation with him. As they talked they walked near the organ and the stranger quietly seated himself upon the bench, and his fingers started to pull out the stops. The caretaker of the church knew his orders, but he was fascinated by the stranger and made no attempt to stop him.

The fingers then began to press the keys. They fondled them with an affection like unto the hands of a mother fondling her babe; and from the throat of that great instrument there came forth a melody. The old cathedral rang with it. It rose and fell like an ocean of symphony, until the building seemed to say, "I have never heard such music as this before." The stranger played on. Then the sound stopped; the bellows emptied; and the old man stepped down from the console. Slowly he walked toward the back of the cathedral, and then he stopped; for there, sitting with bowed head, was the organist of the church whose orders had been broken. Tears were in his eyes as he spoke to the stranger. "I never have allowed another to touch that organ. No fingers but my own did I want to caress its keys. But you, sir, will do me an honor if you will play and play and play. I ask no higher privilege than to listen. Are you a stranger in this town? The old man replied, "I am." "And what is your name, may I ask?"

As the old man walked slowly away, he said in a whisper, "My name, did you say? My name is Mendelssohn."

There are other fingers than yours which can bring the sweetest melody out of your life, and it is only when the nail-scarred hands of the Christ touch the chords of heart and spirit that the melodies divine begin to throb through human lives.

Nothing of Ourselves

Christian Perfection! Can we poor mortals ever be perfect in anything? Certainly not, if we attempt it by our good works or rely upon self-attained righteousness. The secret of victory over sin and self is to recognize that in ourselves we can do nothing__ nothing but open wide the door of the heart and invite the Galilean to enter.

Then, day by day, as we yield to His will; moment by moment as we trust Him for His grace; the life of Christ becomes manifest in us and through us. Then and then only can it be said that we are truly His disciples. Only Christ can live the Christ life in us. We cannot! It is the beauty of His indwelling presence that makes life beautiful. He is the Holy One Who imparts the spiritual grace of holiness. Is He not our wisdom? Is He not our sanctification? The glory of it all is that we can possess His perfection the moment we let Him in! Man is perfect in that day in which he completely yields his heart and life to Jesus! Then, through that surrendered, yielded heart and body, the life of Christ begins to flow; and every channel of our being is a river bed down which the living waters flow, making the heart glad and giving victory over sin and self."

...Only Christ can live the Christ life in us. We cannot! -Charles Price-

 

[FineLinen]

Laus Deo

On the aluminum cap atop the Washington Monument in Washington, DC are two words: Laus Deo. No one can see these words. In fact ... most visitors to the monument have no idea they are even there and, for that matter, probably could care less!

But there they are ... 555 feet, 5.125 inches high ... perched atop the monument to the father of our nation. Overlooking the 69 square miles which comprise the District of Columbia, capital of the United States of America.

Laus Deo! Two seemingly insignificant, unnoticed words ... out of sight and, one might think, out of mind ... but very meaningfully placed at the highest point over what is the most powerful city in the world.

And what might those two words ... comprised of just four syllables and only seven letters ... mean? Very simply ... "Praise be to God!" Though construction of this giant obelisk began in 1848 when James Polk was President of the United States, it was not until 1888 that the monument was inaugurated and opened to the public. It took twenty-five years to finally cap the memorial with the tribute Laus Deo!

"Praise Be To God!"

From atop this magnificent granite and marble structure ... a visitor can take in the beautiful panoramic view of the city with its division into four major segments. And from that vantage point one can also easily see ( whether plan of the designer, Pierre Charles l'Enfant , or Divine Intervention ) a perfect cross imposed upon the landscape ... with the White House to the North, the Jefferson Memorial to the South ... the Capitol to the East ... and the Lincoln Memorial to the West. A cross ... you say?

How interesting! And ... no doubt ... intended to carry a meaning for those who bother to notice.

"Praise be to God!"

Within the monument itself are 898 steps and 50 landings.

As one climbs the steps and pauses at the landings the memorial stones share a message.

On the 12th Landing is a prayer offered by the City of Baltimore;

On the 20th is a memorial presented by some Chinese Christians;

On the 24th a presentation made by Sunday School children from New York and Philadelphia quoting Proverbs 10:7, Luke 18:16 and Proverbs 22:6.

"Praise Be To God!"

When the cornerstone of the Washington Monument was laid on July 4th, 1848 deposited within it were many items including the Holy Bible presented by the Bible Society.

"Praise Be To God!"

Such was the discipline, the moral direction, the spiritual mood given by the founder and first President of our unique democracy ... "one nation, under God."

I am awed by Washington's prayer for America. Have you never read it? Well, now is your opportunity ... read on!

"Almighty God; We make our earnest prayer that Thou wilt keep the United States in Thy holy protection; that Thou wilt incline the hearts of the citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to government; and entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another and for their fellow citizens of the United states at large."

"And finally that Thou wilt most graciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that charity, humility, and pacific temper of mind which were the characteristics of the Divine Author of our blessed religion, and without a humble imitation of whose example in these things we can never hope to be a happy nation. Grant our supplication, we beseech Thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Laus Deo!

As you might have guessed ... I kind of like the idea that our Pledge of Allegiance includes the phrase "under God." It is clear when one studies the history of our great nation that Washington's America was one of the few countries in all the world established under the guidance, direction and banner of Almighty God, to whom was given all praise, honor and worship by the great men who formed and fashioned her pivotal foundations. And when one stops to observe the inscriptions found in public places all over our nation's capitol ... one will easily find the signature of God.

We are a nation under God!!! Laus Deo!

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

God Calling

It had always been Ken Gaub’s goal to help those who were hurting. “Some people just need a little boost, and I wanted to influence their lives in a positive way,†he says. He became a traveling missionary and with his family, conducted crusades not only throughout America but in many foreign countries. He established a magazine, a radio and television ministry and a youth outreach program.

But sometimes even preachers get drained and discouraged, and they wonder if they should consider another line of work. That was how Ken felt one day in the 1970’s as he, his wife, Barbara, and their children drove their two ministry buses down I-75 just south of Dayton, Ohio. God, am I doing any good, traveling around like this, telling people about you? He wondered silently. Is this what you want me to do?

“Hey, Dad let’s get some pizza!†one of Ken’s sons suggested. Still lost in thought, Ken turned off at the next exit, Route 741, where one sign after another advertised a wide variety of fast food. A sign, Ken mused. That’s what I need, God, a sign.

Ken’s son and daughter-in-law had already maneuvered the second bus into a pizza parlor’s parking lot, and they stood waiting as Ken pulled up. The rest of the family bounced down the steps. Ken sat staring into space.

“Coming?†Barbara asked.

“I’m not really hungry,†Ken told her. “I’ll stay out here and stretch my legs.â€Â

Barbara followed the others into the restaurant, and Ken stepped outside, closed he bus doors, and looked around. Noticing a Dairy Queen, he strolled over, bought a soft drink, and ambled back, still pondering. He was exhausted. But were his doldrums a sign of permanent burnout?

A persistent ringing broke Ken’s concentration.

The jangle was coming from a payphone in a booth at the service station right next to the Dairy Queen. As Ken approached the booth, he looked to see if anyone in the station was coming to answer the phone. But the attendant continued his work, seemingly oblivious to the noise.

Why doesn’t someone answer it? Ken wondered, growing irritated. What if it is an emergence?

The insistent ringing went on. Ten rings. Fifteen…. Curiosity overcame Ken’s lethargy. Walking to the booth, he lifted the receiver. “Hello?â€Â

“Long-distance call for Ken Gaub,†came the voice of the operator.

Ken was stunned. “You’re crazy!†he said. Then, realizing his rudeness, he tried to explain. “This can’t be! I was just walking down the road here, and the phone was ringingâ€â€Ã¢â‚¬Å“

The operator ignored his ramblings. “Is Ken Gaub there?†she asked. “I have a long-distance phone call for himâ€Â

Was this a joke? Automatically, Ken smoothed his hair for the Candid Camera crew that must surely appear. But no one came. His family was eating pizza in a randomly selected restaurant just a few yards from where he stood. And no one else knew he was there.

“I have a long-distance call for Ken Gaub, sir,†the operator said again, obviously reaching the limits of her patience. “Is he there or isn’t he?â€Â

“Operator, I’m Ken Gaub,†Ken said, still unable to make sense of it.

“Are you sure?†the operator asked, but just then, Ken heard another woman’s voice on the telephone.

Mr. Gaub, I'm Millie

“Yes, that’s him, Operator!†she said. “Mr. Gaub, I’m Millie from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. You don’t know me, but I’m desperate. Please help me.â€Â

“What can I do for you?†Ken asked. The operator hung up.

Millie began to weep, and Ken waited patiently for her to regain control. Finally she explained: “I was about to kill myself, and I started to write a suicide note. Then I began to pray and tell God I really didn’t want to do this.†Through her desolation, Millie remembered seeing Ken on television. If she could talk to that nice, kindly minister, the one with the understanding attitude…..

“I knew it was impossible because I didn’t know how to reach you,†Millie went on, calmer now. “So I started to finish the note. And then some numbers came into my mind, and I wrote them down.†She began to weep again. Silently Ken prayed for the wisdom to help her.

“I looked at those numbers,†Millie continued tearfully,

“and I thoughtâ€â€wouldn’t it be wonderful if I had a miracle from God, and he has given me Ken’s phone number? I can’t believe I’m talking to you. Are you in your office in California?â€Â

“I don’t have an office in California,†Ken explained. “It’s in Yakima, Washington.â€Â

“Then where are you?†Millie asked, puzzled.

Ken was even more bewildered. “Millie, don’t you know? You made the call.â€Â

“But I don’t know what area this is.†Millie had dialed the long-distance operator and given the numbers to her, making it a person-to-person call. And somehow she had found Ken in a parking lot in Dayton, Ohio.

Ken gently counseled the woman. Soon she met the one who would lead her out of her situation into a new life. Th he hung up the phone, still dazed. Would his family believe this incredible story? Perhaps he shouldn’t tell anyone about it.

But he had prayed for an answer, and he had received just what he needed – a renewed sense of purpose, a glimpse of the value of his work, and electrifying awareness of God’s concern for each of his children – all in an encounter that could only have been arranged by his heavenly Father.

Ken’s heart overflowed with joy. “Barb,†he exclaimed as his wife climbed back into the bus, “you won’t believe this! God knows where I am!â€Â

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

Red

UCLA Medical Center was a big, scary place to an 11-year-old who was away from home for the first time. The sounds and smells seemed foreign as white shoes squeaked on the highly polished floors, people were being paged over an intercom, buzzers could be heard, and the faint odor of alcohol seemed everywhere.

In the bed next to me, and closest to the window, was a young girl about my age. The first thing I noticed about her were her beautiful eyes and bright smile. I wondered how she could seem so happy in this strange place. She had gone through the glass of a sliding door and had bandages covering the stitches. I knew she had to be in some pain, but she was friendly and a welcome companion.

It was the late 1950's and a tumor had been discovered in the bone marrow of my right ankle.

My foot was discolored and swollen to the point of not having anything that even resembled an ankle. I went through a battery of tests, and during that time my roommate and companion was released to go home. Without her to take my mind off my fears, I became quiet and retreated into books or watching television. One afternoon, a few days later, a rather frail looking, freckle faced, red haired boy peeked in to say "Hi!" He hopped on the empty bed near the window and began to chat like we were old friends. He talked about places he wanted to visit, favorite games, television shows, and how sick he was. His eyes sparkled, and other than being very pale, he didn't seem sick to me. He loved to do small skits and kept those of us in the children's ward laughing.

His father would come to visit us, too. He was a taller, older, broader version of my friend Richard, and just as funny. He had a kindness about him that made you feel warm and comfortable around him. We all enjoyed his visits and the humor and laughter he brought with him.

The day came when I was told surgery was necessary.

The doctor was as gentle as he could be when he told me there was a good chance I had something that would mean amputating my leg. I remember crying for hours that night. The night before surgery I was very scared. My mother was at home with three small children and I had a difficult time falling asleep. When I finally gave in and allowed sleep to take over, it wasn't for long.

I awoke to find my friend Richard's father asleep in the chair next to my bed.

He woke up soon after I did, and in a very gentle voice kept telling me it was going to be "OK." I just had to believe. He stayed for most of the night. I would sleep and waken, and he would sometimes be asleep, other times he'd smile and comfort me.

Surgery went well, and my leg wasn't amputated, but I was in and out of surgeries, casts, and the hospital for the next two years. Richard passed away from leukemia the second year, but has lived on in my heart and memory.

His father became my hero, then and in later years. For during the time I knew Mr. Skelton, and his son Richard, I only saw their courage, compassion, and tender hearts.

I saw a man who was "in character" to make the children laugh and forget their illnesses, but I also saw a very gentle man who was not in character as he sat by the bed of a fatherless 11-year-old girl. Setting aside his own fears or sadness, "Red" Skelton, the clown who entertained millions during the early days of television, made sure that I was able to face a scary situation with the hope it was going to be OK.

 

[FineLinen]

GOING TO GIGI'S HOUSE

Mary Alice Weaver departed this earthly life today at the age of ninety-three years. She lived through two world wars, one Great Depression, and seventeen United States presidents. More importantly, she spent thirty-three years being my grandmother.

When I was too young to remember, I began calling her "Gigi". I have no idea why, but the name stuck, and that's how her grandchildren and great-grandchildren came to know her.

Going to Gigi's house on Sunday was a ritual we observed without fail during my childhood. Going to Gigi's house meant finding all the food I wanted to eat and a bed with clean sheets that smelled wonderful for some grandmotherly reason.

Going to Gigi's house meant trees to climb, and either a candy bar or a pack of bubble gum hidden in her pocketbook with my name on it.

There can be no greater feeling in this world than the feeling you get waking up at Gigi's house on a cool summer morning with the fresh breeze blowing through the open window, stirring up the godly aroma of fresh coffee; hearing the birds singing outside, while inside you hear the gurgle of the old metal coffee pot boiling on the stove and the snap crackle and pop of bacon being fried in the ancient black iron skillet. That was my cue to get to the table, and when I did, Gigi would begin breakfast by serving me coffee in a little tin cup mixed with about one-half milk.

When I was a big boy she taught me how to cook for myself, and she was obliged to eat my "breakfast in bed" experiments on more than one occasion.

I would not call her a religious person. She was refreshingly non-religious. As a good Methodist, a personal relationship with Jesus was just that- personal, and not something to be discussed. But she always knew how to give credit to Whom credit was due.

"Son," she would tell me, "I count my blessings every single day, and I don't have room left to count them all because I have so many!"

Before I knew how to read I would climb up on her lap and insist that she read the entire Bible to me. She never argued, but with a knowing look, would obediently turn to Genesis 1:1 and begin reading.

Fifteen minutes and three chapters later I had already moved on to something else, but she knew it wasn't a wasted effort, and she was right, because you see, I still remember those three chapters.

You cannot live for ninety-three years without touching a lot of people, but perhaps her greatest single contribution was doing something as simple as taking me to Sunday School on a regular basis. That set in motion a desire for knowing God, understanding His Word, and making Him known to others. As a result, tens of thousands of people around the world who benefit from my writings and spoken messages owe her a debt of thanks and don't even realize it.

Eventually, time and distance made going to Gigi's house less frequent, but nothing could keep us away for very long.

"Come when you can" was her standing invitation to us, and we were only too happy to oblige.

Now that she has moved into her new home, "going to Gigi's house" takes on a spiritual significance that we cannot begin to imagine. She is with the Lord - the rest of us will just have to come when we can.

~~~~~~~~

"When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother..." (II Timothy 1:5a).

In loving memory of Mary Alice Weaver, 1911-2004

~~~~~~~~

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[Jups]

Thank you for the Inspirational stories Mr. Fine Linen. Do keep them coming!
More power and God Bless!!!