Inspirational Stories

[FineLinen]

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

Hi there Jups...I fear I have fallen far behind in the inspirational stories for the moment. I shall surely catch up. May the Lord's rich presence continue upon you and yours.

General Stonewall Jackson

"And I sought for a MAN among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I found none. - Ezek. 22:30.

The future of a nation is directly dependent upon the choices of its men. It is here that the men of America, as a whole, have failed. Like the individual links of a chain, the immoral choices of our men have truly brought this nation into spiritual bondage. Many men are now squandering the zeal and the strength of their youth on the temporal pursuits of sports and money. Our churches are filled with men who will shout the praises of professional athletes and yet are cowards to praise the King of Kings. Hardened and passive, such men are void of Holy Ghost boldness. Yet God, in His mercy, is still determined to use MEN to stand in the gap.

In General "Stonewall Jackson", God found a true man who would stand in the gap. Both strong and tender, the motto of his life was, "Lord what wilt thou have me to do?" As fervent in the field of battle, so was Jackson on his knees in prayer. "He was a man of prayer, accustomed in all he did to ask the divine blessing and guidance. His aid said that he could always tell when a battle was near at hand by seeing the General get up a great many times in the night to pray." General Jackson did not simply pray, he fervently prayed. The following story gives us some insight in the passion of his prayers. It was told the Rev. William Brown, "the truth is sir, that 'old Jack' (Jackson) is crazy. Why, I frequently meet him out in the woods walking back and forth muttering to himself incoherent sentences and gesturing wildly, at such times he seems utterly oblivious of my presence and of everything else."

"A friend was once conversing with Jackson about the difficulty of obeying the scripture injunction, 'pray without ceasing,' and Jackson insisted that we could so accustom ourselves to it, that it could be easily obeyed. When we take our meals there is the grace. When I take a drink of water, I always pause, as my palate receives the refreshment, to lift up my heart to God in thanks and prayer for the water of life. Whenever I drop a letter into the box at the post office I send a petition along with it for God's blessings upon its mission and upon the person to whom it is sent. When I break the seal of a letter just received I stop to pray to God that He may prepare me for its contents and make it a message of good. When I go to my classroom and await the arrangement of the cadets in their places, that is my time to intercede with God for them. And so of every other familiar act of the day." Though a man of superior abilities, Jackson humbly recognized his need for JESUS in everything he did.

As a general in the Confederate Army, "Stonewall Jackson" had a profound influence over his men. It was his holy and prayerful example that contributed to the great revival among the Southern troops. By midsummer of 1863, revival had spread to all the Confederate armies. A chaplain of the 26th Alabama Regiment said that his unit alone averaged 100 converts a week for several weeks. During this same time another chaplain declared that, 'modern history presents no example of an army so nearly converted. A third of all soldiers in the field were men of prayer and members of some fellowship. J. W. Jones suggested that 150,000 conversions took place in Lee's Army alone. It was this revival that no doubt prepared the South for the humiliation that was to follow their eventual defeat, but best of all the revival prepared thousands of young and old alike to meet Christ in eternity. Truly, General Jackson impacted our history through the power of prayer.

What is our greatest need today in our morally fallen nation? We need a tenacious, tender, tearful and Holy Ghost bold army of true MEN! Oh God, make us MEN!

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

A True Miracle

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt seven farmers before it was through.

Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn`t see some rain soon we would lose everything.

It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes.

I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn`t walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort...trying to be as still as possible.

Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed. Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods. This activity went on for an hour: walk carefully to the woods, run back to the house.

Finally I couldn`t take it any longer and I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen...as he was obviously doing important work and didn`t need his Mommy checking up on him).

He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill the water he held in them...maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands. I sneaked close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much higher purpose.

As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site. Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him...he didn`t even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy`s hand.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip drip slowly fill up his makeshift `cup`, as the sun beat down on his little back. And it came clear to me. The trouble he had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn`t ask me to help him. It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands.

When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I`m not wasting", was all he said. As he began his walk, I joined him... with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away. It was his job. I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save another life.

As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops...and more drops...and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was weeping with pride. Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles don`t really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can`t argue with that...I`m not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm...just like the actions of one little boy saved another.

I don`t know if anyone will read this...but I had to send it out. To honor the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken from me much too soon.... But not before showing me the true face of Love, in a little sunburned body.

 

[FineLinen]

Fireworks Made Easy

Turn on your audio. Click anywhere on black box and enjoy the 4th of July now.

HERE

AND HERE

 

[FineLinen]

The Whale

If you read the front page story of the S.F. Chronicle, you would have read about a female humpback whale who had become entangled in a spider web of crab traps and lines.

She was weighted down by hundreds of pounds of traps that caused her to struggle to stay afloat. She also had hundreds of yards of line rope wrapped around her body, her tail, her torso, a line tugging in her mouth.

A fisherman spotted her just east of the Farralone Islands (outside the Golden Gate ) and radioed an environmental group for help.

Within a few hours, the rescue team arrived and determined that she was so bad off, the only way to save her was to dive in and untangle her ...a very dangerous proposition.

One slap of the tail could kill a rescuer.

They worked for hours with curved knives and eventually freed her.

When she was free, the divers say she swam in what seemed like joyous circles.

She then came back to each and every diver, one at a time, and nudged them, pushed gently around-she thanked them. Some said it was the most incredibly beautiful experience of their lives.

The guy who cut the rope out of her mouth says her eye was following him the whole time, and he will never be the same.

May you, and all those you love, be so blessed and fortunate ..to be surrounded by people who will help you get untangled from the things that are binding you. And, may you always know the joy of giving and receiving gratitude.

I pass this on to you, my friend, in the same spirit

 

[Vic C.]

Very nice. :angel:

 

[FineLinen]

Just to Know

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I know that I know little, but I'm thankful for the little I know

But most of all of I am thankful that I know how little I know,

For the highest knowledge I know of is to know how little I know.

Some know much and they know it; But they never seem to know,

That they know so very little of what there is to know,

For the highest knowledge they know of is just the little they know.

What they know is the basis of knowledge. All must bow to what they know,

Whether of Moses, Jesus or Godhead for they know all there is to know.

Oh, Blessed the man that knows nothing, nothing yet as he ought to know,

For the surest way to know something is to know that nothing you know,

To sit at the feet of Jesus and learn what you need to know.

Author unknown.

 

[FineLinen]

Toilet Paper

Throughout history, the Old and New Testaments have shown themselves to be reliable and true; they rise up to outlive their pallbearers, if you will. The following story probably stirs my own confidence in the power of God's Word and His sovereignty more than any other. Let me share part of it with you today.

I was ministering in Vietnam in 1971, and one of my interpreters was Hien Pham, an energetic young Christian. He had worked as a translator with the American forces, and was of immense help both to them and to missionaries such as myself. Hien and I traveled the length of the country and became very close friends before I returned home. We did not know if our paths would ever cross again. Seventeen years later, I received a telephone call. "Brother Ravi?" the man asked. Immediately, I recognized Hien's voice, and he soon told me his story.

Shortly after Vietnam fell, Hien was imprisoned on accusations of helping the Americans. His jailers tried to indoctrinate him against democratic ideals and the Christian faith. He was forced to read only communist propaganda in French or Vietnamese, and the daily deluge of Marx and Engels began to take its toll. "Maybe," he thought, "I have been lied to. Maybe God does not exist. Maybe the West has deceived me." So Hien determined that when he awakened the next day, he would not pray anymore or think of his faith.

The next morning, he was assigned the dreaded chore of cleaning the prison latrines. As he cleaned out a tin can overflowing with toilet paper, his eye caught what seemed to be English printed on one piece of paper. He hurriedly grabbed it, washed it, and after his roommates had retired that night, he retrieved the paper and read the words, "Romans, Chapter 8." Trembling, he began to read, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. … For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:28,38,39). Hien wept. He knew his Bible, and he knew that there was not a more relevant passage for one on the verge of surrender. He cried out to God, asking forgiveness. This was to have been the first day that he would not pray; evidently God had other plans.

As it were, there was an official in the camp who was using a Bible as toilet paper. So Hien asked the commander if he could clean the latrines regularly. Each day he picked up a portion of Scripture, cleaned it off, and added it to his collection of nightly reading.

Then the day came when, through an equally providential set of circumstances, Hien was released from prison. He promptly began to make plans to leave the country and to construct a boat for the escape of him and 53 others. All was going according to plan until days before their departure. Four Vietcong knocked on Hien's door and said they had heard of his escape. He denied it and they left. Hien felt relieved, but at the same time disappointed with himself. He made a promise to Godâ€â€fervently hoping that God would not take him up on itâ€â€that if the Vietcong returned, he would tell them the truth. He was thoroughly shaken when only a few hours before they were to set sail, the four men returned. When questioned again, he confessed the truth. To Hien's astonishment, the men leaned forward and, in hushed tones, asked if they could go with him!

In an utterly incredible escape plan, all 58 of them found themselves on the high seas, suddenly engulfed by a violent storm. Hien cried out to God, "Did you bring us here to die?" But then he said to me, "Brother Ravi, if it were not for the sailing ability of those four Vietcong, we would not have made it." They arrived safely in Thailand, and years later Hien arrived on American soil where today he is a businessman.

How fittingly do the words of the eighteenth-century poet William Cowper capture what God did in Hien's life, a man set apart in Christ:

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His works in vain;
God is His own interpreter
And He will make it plain.

Ravi Zacharias

HERE

 

[FineLinen]

The Rat Trap

HERE

 

[FineLinen]

One Single Rose

On July 13, 2002 a piece of our life was suddenly snatched away. Our youngest son, Philip, entered the next stage of life, into the loving Presence of the One who has made us. It was so sudden; our hearts called out to our Heavenly Father in our grief and great distress with a strange, but wonderful, prayer.

Father: Will you give us one rose?

That was the simple request my husband made that day; one rose to cut and place upon our table in memory of our twenty-year-old son.

As we pondered the shock and sorrow of our loss my husband asked the Lord for just one single rose in memory of our dear son. The year 2002 in this area had been one of the finest years for roses, but it was now the middle of July and the sun and heat had brought the roses to the last stages of disintegration..... except for one beautiful, perfectly-formed rose.

Later in the day....

Our attention was focused on the rear of our home. The situation was identical. Every rose in the last stages of life, except for one perfectly-formed, variegated rose of pink with touches of yellow. Our Father, in our hour of grief, answered our simple prayer with twice what we had asked for. At the front and the rear of our dwelling, one perfectly-formed rose.

2004

We still marvel as we look at those bushes today. The bush at the front continues to provide many lovely roses, but none as exquisite as the one our Father made for us that day. And in the rear....in the rear, the variegated rose bush failed to blossom this spring. The winter had been especially windy and cold and a couple of our rose bushes did not survive. I was so saddened in the spring to note that our special rose bush had not one sign of life - no little shoots sprouting out - just dead, dried branches.

After waiting a few weeks, hoping for life to appear, I decided to plant a new rose bush in its place. Near the end of June I dug up our lovely bush, examining the lifeless root and pondered whether it should be thrown away or replanted in another spot. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out and so I planted the "lifeless" root in a new location in the flower bed under our kitchen window.

What a shock!

One day in the middle of August, I was outside on our patio and looked down at our flowerbed under the kitchen window - I couldn't believe my eyes! I thought - I am seeing things - it can't be so! I stepped closer. There was a single green stem with a rosebud sprouting up as beautifully as you please. Immediately I thought of our Philip - this is our beautiful Philip - out of the agony of his death he is enjoying resurrection life. He is in a different place and basking in the love of His Heavenly Father.

Each day we watched the progress of this fresh, single young rosebud as it developed and grew blossoming into a beautiful, variegated rose - pink with tinges of yellow.

Receiving this rose has been such a blessing to us - a confirmation of the glorious resurrection life that awaits us and assurance that our Father is watching over us and continuing to comfort us in the loss of our son.

"I the Lord build the ruined places, and plant that that was desolate: I the Lord have spoken it, and I will do it."

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

 

[FineLinen]

Charting 'Islands Of Genius'

There is genius in all of us. How to unlock that genius remains a mystery.

HERE

 

[FineLinen]

A True Miracle

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt seven farmers before it was through.

Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn`t see some rain soon we would lose everything.

It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes.

I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn`t walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort...trying to be as still as possible.

Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed. Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods. This activity went on for an hour: walk carefully to the woods, run back to the house.

Finally I couldn`t take it any longer and I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen...as he was obviously doing important work and didn`t need his Mommy checking up on him).

He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill the water he held in them...maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands. I sneaked close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much higher purpose.

As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site. Several large deer loomed in front of him. Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close. But the buck did not threaten him...he didn`t even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy`s hand.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip drip slowly fill up his makeshift `cup`, as the sun beat down on his little back. And it came clear to me. The trouble he had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn`t ask me to help him. It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands.

When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I`m not wasting", was all he said. As he began his walk, I joined him... with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away. It was his job. I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save another life.

As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops...and more drops...and more. I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, himself, was weeping with pride. Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles don`t really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can`t argue with that...I`m not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm...just like the actions of one little boy saved another.

I don`t know if anyone will read this...but I had to send it out. To honor the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken from me much too soon.... But not before showing me the true face of Love, in a little sunburned body.

 

[FineLinen]

Dancing With God

HERE

When I meditated on the word Guidance, I kept seeing "dance" at the end of the word. I remember reading that doing God's will is a lot like dancing....

The Tuning Fork Principle

If you were a musical tuning fork that could be calibrated to attract vibrating sounds, to what note would your pitch be calibrated?

Let me try to explain this strange question and direct your attention to an astonishing law of nature.

The Tuning Fork Principle works like this: When you tap a tuning fork it begins to vibrate and make humming sounds, sending out vibrations of specific pitch through the air around it. If another tuning fork is placed nearby and calibrated to the same note, the second fork will begin to hum and vibrate in harmony with the first one.

You also act as a tuning fork. While the pitch/tune you sends is invisible and, unlike a tuning fork, it is silent to the ear, you DO calibrate your minds and thinking to specific vibrations, and those vibrations search for matching tunes in other people.

You do this both consciously and unconsciously, and send those vibrations all the time. The tunes are silent, invisible signals that flow through the air around us and vibrate in harmony with similar forks (people) are tuned in a similar way.

This is a very profound concept with life changing potential!
Now, to get back to our opening question of what note would you calibrate to your pitch:

You have the choice what signal you want to send, and the signals are thoughts, attitudes, and behavior patterns.

Your "mind orchestra" attracts more sound according to the music it produces. When you commit yourself internally to a thought or an idea the intensity of your commitment increases the rate and quality of vibrations that you send out.

You then start to send vibrations that are picked up by others. This principle is referred to by sayings such as: " birds of a feather flock together", " it takes one to know one", "tell me who your friends are and I'll tell you who you are" and so forth.

Wherever we direct our life force, which manifests by how we think, what we contemplate, the yearnings and passions of our mind is where we will fetch our next intelligence from. This may sound like science fiction but indeed in this you are the captain of your own starship Enterprise

http://www.physicsclassroom.com/Class/sound/u11l4b.html

 

[FineLinen]

This made my heart soar the first time I saw it.....

Here are the Hebrew letters:

The name of God is YHVH

Y (Yud)
H (Hay)
V (Vav)
H (Hay)

Take those four Hebrew letters and write them one on top of the other like I did the English letters.

What shape do you see?

 

[Smith3637]

Please Consider Posting Your Answered Prayers Here

Your help would be appreciated at a new public bulletin board where people of all faiths are invited to post inspiring stories of the answers to their prayers. Please consider visiting the site and please help others to feel more comfortable about posting their stories by posting one of your own. Your help in passing the site on to other people of faith would also be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

www.quicktopic.com/37/H/xRhUWYPivmjFE

 

[FineLinen]

Psalm 23 (Native American Version)

The GREAT FATHER above a SHEPHERD CHIEF is.

I am His and with Him I want not.

He throws out to me a rope and the name of the rope is love

and He draws me to where the grass is green and the water is not dangerous,

and I eat and lie down and am satisfied.

Sometimes my heart is very weak and falls down

but He lifts me up again draws me into a good road.

His name is WONDERFUL .

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

He will draw me into a valley.

It is dark there, but I’ll be afraid not,

for it is between those mountains that the SHEPHERD CHIEF will meet me

and the hunger that I have in my heart all through life will be satisfied.

Sometimes he makes the love rope into a whip,

but afterwards He gives me a staff to lean upon.

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

He puts His hand upon my head and all the †tired †is gone.

My cup he fills till it runs over.

What I tell is true. I lie not.

These roads that are “away ahead†will stay with me

through this life and after;

and afterwards I will go to live in the Big Teepee

and sit down with the SHEPHERD CHIEF forever.

Father's Love Letter

HERE

 

[FineLinen]

Is Your Hut Burning?

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.

Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the weather, and to store his few possessions.

But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stunned with grief and anger. "God, how could you do this to me!" he cried.

Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. "How did you know I was here?" asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied. It is easy to get discouraged when things are going badly. But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering.

Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground---it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.

LINK

 

[FineLinen]

Brown Bag Christmas

When I asked our newlywed Sunday School class to share a favorite Christmas story, Carrie Fuller said, "Our family has one we call the 'brown bag Christmas.'" When she finished, I had to hear more. Two days later, I called a member of her family for more details.
It was the early 1930s during the Dust Bowl days of Kansas, in the heart of the Depression. The Canaday family---Mom, Dad, 7 children---were having a tough time existing, so there would be no luxuries at Christmas that year. Mom told the children to go outside and find a Christmas tree and decorate it. After a lengthy search, they returned with a dead branch, the only thing they had been able to find. They stood it up in a bucket of sand and decorated it with pieces of paper tied with string. Little Judy, almost four, did not know how a Christmas tree was supposed to look, but somehow she knew it was not like that!

As Christmas approached, the Canaday children, like children everywhere, pestered Mom and Dad about what presents they might get under their "tree." Dad pointed out that the pantry was bare, that they did not have enough to live on, and there certainly would be no money for gifts. But Mom was a woman of faith and told her children, "Say your prayers. Ask God to send us what He wants us to have." Dad said, "Now, Mother, don't be getting the children's hopes up. You're just setting them up for a disappointment." Mom said, "Pray, children. Tell Jesus." And pray they did.

On Christmas Eve, the children watched out the window for visitors, but no one came. "Blow out the lamp and go to bed", Dad said. "Nobody is going to come. No one even knows we're out here."

The children turned out the lamp and got in bed, but they were too excited to sleep. Was this not Christmas? Had they not asked God to send them the presents He wanted them to have? Did Mom not say God answers prayer?

Late that night, when one of the children spotted headlights coming down the dirt road, everyone jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The commotion woke up Mom and Dad. "Don't get excited, children," Dad said. "They're probably not coming here. It's just someone who got lost." The children kept hoping and the car kept coming. Then, Dad lit a lamp. They all wanted to rush to the door at the same time, but Mr. Canaday said, "Stay back. I'll go." Someone got out of the car and called, "I was wondering if someone here can help me unload these bags." The children dashed out the door to lend a hand. Mom said to her youngest, "Stay here, Judy, and help Mom open the bags and put up the gifts."

A deacon from the church in town had gone to bed that Christmas Eve, and lay there tossing and turning, unable to get the Canaday family off his mind. Later, he said, "I didn't know what kind of shape you folks were in, but I knew you had all those kids." He had gotten up and dressed and went around town, rousing people from their sleep to ask for a contribution for the Canaday family. He filled his car with bags of groceries, canned goods, toys, and clothing. Little Judy got a rag doll which remained her favorite for years.

With so much food, Dad wanted to have a Christmas feast, to spread it all out and eat as they had never eaten before. Mom, ever the caretaker, said, "No, we need to make this last." And it did last, for weeks.

The next Sunday, Mrs. Canaday stood in church and told what the members---and one deacon in particular---had done for her family. There was not a dry eye in the house.

Years later, the oldest sister Eva wrote up this story about her family for a school project. Eva said, "We were so thrilled by all the wonderful things in the bags, for a while ;we lost sight of the most special gift. The best gift that Christmas was not in brown bags at all.
It was Mom's faith, as she taught her children to bring their needs to Jesus and trust Him to meet them. And a Dad's love that wanted only to protect his children from hurt and disappointment."

When Carrie finished telling her story, she added, "Little Judy is my wonderful grandmother." Today, Judy Canaday Dryden lives in Sanger, Texas. As she relived this event from seventy years ago over the phone, one could hear the tear in her voice and feel her pride in being the recipient of such a precious heritage from her mother and father.

At Christmas, we celebrate praying mothers and caring fathers and believing children. We give thanks for sensitive deacons and generous friends and sleepless nights. And we praise God for the hard times that teach unforgettable lessons, stories of faithfulness that get told and retold through the years inspiring each new generation to place their faith in a loving Savior.


LINK

 

[SputnikBoy]

Just a quick note to say how much I've appreciated the inspirational stories presented in this thread. The thread was bumped up at a time when I really need them in my life. Many thanks.

 

[FineLinen]

The Mansions Of The Lord

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http://www.angelfire.com/ny5/ItisPeke/VDay.html

"I beheld till the thrones were cast down and the Ancient of Days took His throne. His clothing is white as snow, and the hair of His head is like pure white wool. His throne is a blaze of flames and His wheels are burning fire. A river of fire streams and issues forth from His presence. Thousand thousands minister unto Him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stand before Him."

Mansions Of The Lord HERE

"....to those who are called, wrapped in the love of God the Father, and kept for Jesus Christ....."

 

[FineLinen]

Happy Birthday America.

Please turn on your audio and enjoy an early 4th of July greeting....

HERE