Tag Archives: Happiness

An “Aussie” Story

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Author unknown

Years ago a hardworking man took his family from New York State to Australia to take advantage of a work opportunity there. Part of this man’s family was a handsome young son who had aspirations of joining the circus as a trapeze artist or an actor. This young fellow, biding his time until a circus job or even one as a stagehand came along, worked at the local shipyards which bordered on the worse section of town.

Walking home from work one evening this young man was attacked by five thugs who wanted to rob him. Instead of just giving up his money the young fellow resisted. However they bested him easily and proceeded to beat him to a pulp. They mashed his face with their boots, and kicked and beat his body brutally with clubs, leaving him for dead. When the police happened to find him lying in the road they assumed he was dead and called for the Morgue Wagon.

On the way to the morgue a policeman heard him gasp for air, and they immediately took him to the emergency unit at the hospital. When he was placed on a gurney a nurse remarked to her horror, that this young man no longer had a face. Each eye socket was smashed, his skull, legs, and arms fractured, his nose literally hanging from his face, all is teeth were gone, and his jaw was almost completely torn from his skull.

Although his life was spared, he spent over a year in the hospital. When he finally left, his body may have healed but his face was disgusting to look at. He was no longer the handsome youth that everyone admired.

When the young man started to look for work again he was turned down by everyone just on account of the way he looked. One potential employer suggested to him that he join the freak show at the circus as The Man Who Had No Face. And he did this for a while. He was still rejected by everyone and no one wanted to be seen in his company. He had thoughts of suicide.

This went on for five years. One day he passed a church and sought some solace there. Entering the church he encountered a priest who saw him sobbing while kneeling in a pew. The priest took pity on him and took him to the rectory where they talked at length. The priest was impressed with him to such a degree that he said that he would do everything possible for him that could be done to restore his dignity and life, if the young man would promise to be the best Catholic he could be, and trust in God’s mercy to free him from his torturous life. The young man went to Mass and communion every day, and after thanking God for saving his life, asked God to only give him peace of mind and the grace to be the best man he could ever be in His eyes.

The priest, through his personal contacts was able to secure the services of the best plastic surgeon in Australia. There would be no cost to the young man, as the doctor was the priest’s best friend. The doctor too was so impressed by the young man. Whose outlook now on life, even though he had experienced the worst, was filled with good humor and love. The surgery was a miraculous success. All the best dental work was also done for him.

The young man became everything he promised God he would be. He was also blessed with a wonderful, beautiful wife, many children, and success in an industry which would have been the furthest thing from his mind as a career, if not for the goodness of God and the love of the people who cared for him.

This he acknowledges publicly.

A Slice of Life

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Jean heaved another world-weary sigh. Tucking a strand of shiny black hair behind her ear, she frowned at the teetering tower of Christmas cards waiting to be signed. What was the point? How could she sign only one name? A “couple” required two people, and she was just one.

The legal separation from Don had left her feeling vacant and incomplete. Maybe she would skip the cards th…is year. And the holiday decorating. Truthfully, even a tree felt like more than she could manage. She had canceled out of the caroling party and the church nativity pageant. Christmas was to be shared, and she had no one to share it with.

The doorbell’s insistent ring startled her. Padding to the door in her thick socks, Jean cracked it open against the frigid December night. She peered into the empty darkness of the porch. Instead of a friendly face — something she could use about now — she found only a jaunty green gift bag perched on the railing. From whom? she wondered. And why?

Under the bright kitchen light, she pulled out handfuls of shredded gold tinsel, feeling for a gift. Instead, her fingers plucked an envelope from the bottom. Tucked inside was a typed letter. It was a…story?

The little boy was new to the Denmark orphanage, and Christmas was drawing near, Jean read. Already caught up in the tale, she settled into a kitchen chair.

From the other children, he heard tales of a wondrous tree that would appear in the hall on Christmas Eve and of the scores of candles that would light its branches. He heard stories of the mysterious benefactor who made it possible each year.

The little boy’s eyes opened wide at the mere thought of all that splendor. The only Christmas tree he had ever seen was through the fogged windows of other people’s homes. There was even more, the children insisted. More? Oh, yes! Instead of the orphanage’s regular fare of gruel, they would be served fragrant stew and crusty, hot bread that special night.

Last, and best of all, the little boy learned, each of them would receive a holiday treat. He would join the line of children to get his very own….

Jean turned the page. Instead of a continuation, she was startled to read: “Everyone needs to celebrate Christmas, wouldn’t you agree? Watch for Part II.” She refolded the paper while a faint smile teased the corner of her mouth.

The next day was so busy that Jean forgot all about the story. That evening, she rushed home from work. If she hurried, she’d probably have enough time to decorate the mantle. She pulled out the box of garland, only to drop it when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, she found herself looking at a red gift bag. She reached for it eagerly and pulled out the piece of paper.

…to get his very own orange, Jean read. An orange? That’s a treat? she thought incredulously.

An orange! Of his very own? Yes, the others assured him. There would be one apiece. The boy closed his eyes against the wonder of it all. A tree. Candles. A filling meal. And an orange of his very own.

He knew the smell, tangy sweet, but only the smell. He had sniffed oranges at the merchant’s stall in the marketplace. Once he had even dared to rub a single finger over the brilliant, pocked skin. He fancied for days that his hand still smelled of orange. But to taste one, to eat one? Heaven.

The story ended abruptly, but Jean didn’t mind. She knew more would follow.

The next evening, Jean waited anxiously for the sound of the doorbell. She wasn’t disappointed. This time, though, the embossed gold bag was heavier than the others had been. She tore into the envelope resting on top of the tissue paper.

Christmas Eve was all the children had been promised. The piney scent of fir competed with the aroma of lamb stew and homey yeast bread. Scores of candles diffused the room with golden halos. The boy watched in amazement as each child in turn eagerly claimed an orange and politely said “thank you.”

The line moved quickly, and he found himself in front of the towering tree and the equally imposing headmaster.

“Too bad, young man, too bad. But the count was in before you arrived. It seems there are no more oranges. Next year. Yes, next year you will receive an orange.”

Brokenhearted, the orphan raced up the stairs empty-handed to bury both his face and his tears beneath his pillow.

Wait! This wasn’t how she wanted the story to go. Jean felt the boy’s pain, his aloneness.

The boy felt a gentle tap on his back. He tried to still his sobs. The tap became more insistent until, at last, he pulled his head from under the pillow.

He smelled it before he saw it. A cloth napkin rested on the mattress. Tucked inside was a peeled orange, tangy sweet. It was made of segments saved from the others. A slice donated from each child. Together they added up to make one whole, complete fruit.

An orange of his very own.

Jean swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks. From the bottom of the gift bag she pulled out an orange — a foil-covered chocolate orange–already separated into segments. And for the first time in weeks, she smiled. Really smiled.

She set about making copies of the story, wrapping individual slices of the chocolate orange. There was Mrs. Potter across the street, spending her first Christmas alone in 58 years. There was Melanie down the block, facing her second round of radiation. Her running partner, Jan, single-parenting a difficult teen. Lonely Mr. Bradford losing his eyesight, and Sue, sole care-giver to an aging mother….

A piece from her might help make one whole.

By Carol McAdoo Rehme

What Can God Do With 57 Cents?

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True Story

by Author unknown

A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turned away because it “was too crowded.” “I can’t go to Sunday School, “she sobbed to the pastor as he walked by. Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed the reason and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Sunday School class. The child was so touched that she went to bed that night thinking of the children who have no place to worship Jesus.

Some two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor tenement buildings and the parents called for the kind hearted pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final arrangements. As her poor little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump. Inside was found 57 cents and a note scribbled in childish handwriting which read, “This is to help build the little church bigger so more children can go to Sunday school. For two years she had saved for this offering of love. When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly what he would do. Carrying this note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for the larger building.

But the story does not end there! A newspaper learned of the story and published it. It was read by a Realtor who offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so much, he offered it for 57 cents. Church members made large donations. Checks came from far and wide. Within five years the little girl’s gift had increased to $250,000.00 a huge sum for that time (near the turn of the century). Her unselfish love had paid large dividends.

When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist Church, with a seating capacity of 3,300 and Temple University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of Sunday scholars, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday school time. In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russel H. Conwell, author of the book, “acres of Diamonds”—a true story. It goes to show you “What God CAN Do With 57 Cents.”

—————

A first-hand account of this story is in a sermon delivered December 1, 1912 by Russell H. Conwell, pastor of Grace Baptist Church in Philadelphia.  Rev. Conwell said the little girl’s name was Hattie May Wiatt

The Sneeze

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They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the already crowded auditorium. With their rich maroon gowns flowing and the traditional caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.

Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed away tears.

This class would NOT pray during the commencements – not by choice, but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.

The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling. They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.

The speeches were nice, but they were routine … until the final speech received a standing ovation.

A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone. He stood still and silent for just a moment, and then, it happened.

All 92 students, every single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED!!!!

The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said, “GOD BLESS YOU, each and every one of you!” And he walked off stage …

The audience exploded into applause. This graduating class had found a unique way to invoke God’s blessing on their future with or without the court’s approval.

This is a true story; it happened at the University of Maryland.

Jesus Christ Resume

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Author Unknown

Address: Ephesians 1:20

Phone: Romans 10:13

Website: The Bible

Keywords: Jesus Christ, Lord & Savior

My name is Jesus – The Christ.  Many call me Lord!  I’ve sent you my resume because I’m seeking the top management position in your heart.  Please consider my accomplishments as set forth in my resume.

Qualifications:

• I founded the earth and established the heavens (see Proverbs 3:19).

• I formed man from the dust of the ground (see Genesis 2:7).

• I breathed into man the breath of life (see Genesis 2:7).

• I redeemed man from the curse of the law (see Galatians 3:13).

• The blessings of the Abrahamic Covenant comes upon your life through me (see Galatians 3:14).

Occupational Background:

• I’ve only had one employer (see Luke 2:49).

• I’ve never been tardy, absent, disobedient, slothful or disrespectful.

• My employer has nothing but rave reviews for me (see Matthew 3:15-17).

Skills & Work Experiences:

• Some of my skills and work experiences include: empowering the poor to be poor no more, healing the brokenhearted, setting the captives free, healing the sick, restoring sight to the blind and setting at liberty them that are bruised (see Luke 4:18).

• I am a Wonderful Counselor (see Isaiah 9:6). People who Listen to me shall dwell safely and shall not fear evil (see Proverbs 1:33).

• Most importantly, I have the authority, ability & power to cleanse you of your sins (see I John 1:7-9)

Educational Background:

• I encompass the entire breadth & length of knowledge, wisdom and understanding (see Proverbs 2:6).

• In me are hid all of the treasures of wisdom and knowledge (see Colossians 2:3).

• My Word is so powerful; it has been described as being a lamp unto your feet and a lamp unto your path (see Psalms 119:105).

• I can even tell you all of the secrets of your heart (see Psalms 44:21).

Major Accomplishments:

• I was an active participant in the greatest Summit Meeting of all times (see Genesis 1:26).

• I laid down my life so that you may live (see II Corinthians 5:15).

• I defeated the archenemy of God and mankind & made a show of them openly (see Colossians 2:15).

• I’ve miraculously fed the poor, healed the sick and raised the dead!

• There are many more major accomplishments, too many to mention here. You can read them on my website, which is located at: www dot – the BIBLE. You don’t need an Internet connection or computer to access my website.

References:

• Believers and followers worldwide will testify to my divine healings, salvation, deliverance, miracles, restoration and supernatural guidance.

In Summation:

Now that you’ve read my resume, I’m confident that I’m the only candidate uniquely qualified to fill this vital position in your heart. In summation, I will properly direct your paths (see Proverbs 3:5-6), and lead you into everlasting life (see John 6:47). When can I start? Time is of the essence (see Hebrews 3:15).

The Invisible Letter

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Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room.  She said: “How is my little boy?  Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?”  The surgeon said, “I’m sorry.  We did all we could, but your boy didn’t make it.”  Sally said, “Why do little children get cancer?  Doesn’t God care anymore?  Where were you, God, when my son needed you?”
The surgeon asked, “Would you like some time alone with your son?  One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes,
before he’s transported to the university.”  Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said goodbye to her son.

She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair.  “Would you like a lock of his hair?” the nurse asked.  Sally nodded yes.  The nurse cut a lock of the boy’s hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.  The mother said, “It was Jimmy’s idea to donate his body to the University for Study.  He said it might help somebody else.  “I said no at first, but Jimmy said, “Mom, I won’t be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.”  She went on, “My Jimmy had a heart of gold.  Always thinking of someone else.  Always wanting to help others if he could.”

Sally walked out of Children’s mercy Hospital for the last time, after
spending most of the last six months there.  She put the bag with Jimmy’s belongings on the seat beside her in the car.  The drive home was difficult.  It was even harder to enter the empty house.  She carried Jimmy’s belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son’s room.  She started placing the model cars and other personal things, back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke.  Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter.  The letter said:

Dear Mom, I know you’re going to miss me; but don’t think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just ’cause I’m not around to say I LOVE YOU.  I will always love you, Mom, even more
with each day.  Someday we will see each other again.  Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won’t be so lonely, that’s okay with me.  He can have my room, and old stuff to play with.  But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn’t like the same things us boys do.  You’ll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know.

“Don’t be sad thinking about me.  This really is a neat place.  Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything.  The angels are so cool.  I love to watch them fly.  And, you know what?  Jesus doesn’t look like any of his pictures.  Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him.  Jesus himself took me to see GOD!  And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God’s knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important.  That’s when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you goodbye and everything.  But I already knew that wasn’t allowed.

“Well, you know what Mom?  God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter.  I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you.  God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him – ‘Where was He when I needed him?’  God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross.  He was right there, as He always is with all His children.

“Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I’ve written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper.  Isn’t that cool? I have to give God His pen back now.  He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life.  Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I’m sure the food will be great.  Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.  I don’t hurt anymore.  The cancer is all gone.  I’m glad because I couldn’t stand that pain anymore … and God couldn’t stand to see me hurt so much, either.  That’s when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me.  The Angel said I was Special Delivery! How about that?

Signed with Love,

God, Jesus & Me

Passed Around By God But Not Passed Over By God-Chapter 7

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You would think that this woman would consider how she was almost busted and would stop with the beatings. That would be too much like right for Rose. Believe me when I say that this person still beat us when we got home. She beat my brother so bad with the cord that she broke the blister that had formed on his burned thumb. The next thing I saw was blood gushing from his wound. How long were we going to have to live like this? So many times I wanted to tell the social worker when she came to do the evaluation, but every time I thought I had the courage to tell her, Rose would look at me with a nasty glare. Her white eyes bulged from her dark, black, evil face. She kept me scared and I never told.

It seems like the physical and emotional abuse became worse by the day. The beatings and lack of nutrition became a way of living for us. I remember one day when Rose was beating me on the kitchen floor with my hands tied behind my back to keep me from grabbing at the cord. While she was beating me, the German shepherd came into the kitchen and started barking and growling at me as if I was doing harm to his master. Then the dog began biting and tearing at my gown which eventually ripped. After that every time Rose beat me, if the dog was around he would attack me. The white hairy dog never joined in on these vicious attacks, only the German shepherd. I began to think that this dog was going to kill me one day and Rose probably would not care if it did.

Eventually the day came when the German shepherd went for the kill. Rose was once again beating me on the kitchen floor with my hands tied behind my back. Every strike of the cord by Rose was so painful that I truly believed my neighbors had to hear my cries for help. Then I started feeling a pain that was more than the cord. It was unbearable and excruciating, and it was from the sharp fangs of the shepherd’s mouth mauling at my leg. I did not know any more if my cries were from the pain of Rose or from the pain of that damned dog. I can remember crying, screaming and yelling, “Stop it!” Rose finally stopped but it was too late because her dog had mauled the middle of my left leg down to the bone. The wound the dog created on my leg was about the size of a golf ball. When Rose realized what he had done she panicked but not enough to take me to the hospital. She tried to doctor the wound herself. She placed gauze pads, wrapped it up and told me not to tell anyone what happened.

Here I was, a child with no one to come and rescue me from this mad woman. I did not know at this time anything about the Almighty God or the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I did not even know how to pray or what a prayer was for that matter, but I knew something had to give. Two or more days passed until my caseworker, Ms. Irving, came for a visit. She noticed me limping and asked me what was wrong with my leg. I would not say anything, so she checked for herself, noticed the bandage and removed it. She could not believe her eyes as she gasped with disgust. Though I was trembling with fear of Rose, I stood my ground and just told her everything that had happened. Ms. Irving took me and my brother to the emergency room at Wyler Children’s Hospital where the doctors and nurses took me into a room where I received multiple needles in my wound. There I was, screaming my life away again. The healthcare workers were saddened by what had happened to my leg. Glory is to God that my caseworker’s actions saved my brother and me from this horrible creature name Rose or I would most likely not have my left leg today.

My wound eventually healed over the course of months, but a permanent scar remains. I spent a few days in the hospital while Raffeal was temporarily at the DCFS facility. Although I never saw Rose or her dogs again, our physical and emotional scars were far from healing. We remained with no indication of when our mother was going to get custody of her children again, leaving us to wonder if that meant being placed in another home, with another abusive family.

Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God  Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.