General Chat

Let's all read and enjoy this one again!
Well worth the trip.





Pea story

Babs Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.


"Hello Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. Sure look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?"

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it."

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"

"Not zackley. but almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble."

"Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain
with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."

I left the stand smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering.

Several years went by, each more rapid that the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ... all very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

"Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt."


"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho "

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.

Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles....A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys right where you left them.


Send this to the people you'll never forget. If you don't send it to anyone, it means you are in too much of a hurry.

this is a beautiful story and it made me cry.

Thank you from a big softy. x

Lovely story
Thanks
Fiona

Frosty thank you so much for taking the time to share that with us I need to go away and sit a while Im in tears thank you again x

Think someone should leave a box of tissues on this thread.

Lovely, Frosty :-)

Very moving. Pass it on.

Dear Frosty

Thank you for sharing this lovely poem with us.

Very best wishes to you.
xx

That was beautiful, leaky eyes now!
x

Just beautiful

Just beautiful,

Mo

I have read this before but it is well worth another read. Lovely ! it certainly makes you think.
Thank you Frosty.

Gwyn

Thank you so much for that story Frosty. It made me think that we should all stop fretting about what we havn't got and be gratefull for the blessings that we have

Every now and again I come across something which lifts the spirits and fills the heart with joy, and this has just happened. Thank you Frosty.

PS I think this message is for everyone no matter what their beliefs may be. x

A young man had been to Wednesday Night Bible
Study.



T he Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice



The young man couldn't help but wonder, 'Does God still speak to people?'



After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message.
Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways.



It was about ten o'clock when the young man started
driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, 'God...If you still speak t o people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.'



As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.

He shook his head and said out loud, 'God is that you?' He didn't get a reply and started on toward home.

But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.



The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.


'Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.' It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.


As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, 'Turn Down that street.'



This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection.



Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street .



At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.



Half jokingly, he said out loud,



'Okay, God, I will.'




He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi- commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.
The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.


Again, he sensed something, 'Go and give t he milk to the people in the house across the street.' The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.


'Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going
to be mad and I will look stupid.' Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.


Finally, he opened the door, 'Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for some thing, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here.'


He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled
out, 'Who is it? What do you want?' Then the door opened before the young man could get away.


The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. H e looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. 'What is it?'


The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, 'Here, I brought this to you.' The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.


Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.


The man began speaking and half crying, 'We were just praying. We had
some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk.'


His wife in the kitchen yelled out, 'I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?'


The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.
He knew that God still answers prayers.

i have read this before and still blessed with it.

Amazing and actually not that uncommon . Trouble is, some folk are too busy talking to stop and listen.

God's 26 Guards

Here's a message that will bring you chills.

Have you ever felt the urge to pray for someone and
Then just put it on a list and said, 'I'll pray for them later'?

Or has anyone ever called you and said,
'I need you to pray for me, I have this need?'

Read the following story that was sent to me and
May it change the way that you may think about prayer and also the way you pray. You will be blessed by this....

A missionary on furlough told this true story while
Visiting his home church in Michigan .

'While serving at a small field hospital in Africa ,
Every two weeks I traveled by bicycle
Through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies.
This was a journey of two days and
Required camping overnight at the halfway point.

On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city
Where I planned to collect money from a bank,
Purchase medicine, and supplies, and then begin
My two-day journey back to the field hospital.
Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting,
One of whom had been seriously injured.
I treated him for his injuries and at the same time
Talked to him about the Lord..

I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and
Arrived home without incident....

Two weeks later I repeated my journey.
Upon arriving in the city,
I was approached by the young man I had treated.
He told me that he had known I carried
Money and medicines.
He said, 'Some friends and I followed you in to the jungle, Knowing you would camp overnight.
We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs.
But just as we were about to move into your camp,
We saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards.

At this, I laughed and said that I was
Certainly all alone in that jungle campsite..
The young man pressed the point, however, and said,
'No, sir, I was not the only person to see the guards,
My friends also saw them, and we all counted them.
It was because of those guards that
We were afraid and left you alone'

At this point in the sermon,
One of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day this happened.
The missionary told the congregation the date, and
The man who interrupted told him this story:

On the night of your incident in Africa ,
It was morning here and I was preparing to go play golf.
I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you.
In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong,
I called men in this church to meet with me here
In the sanctuary to pray for you.

Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up? The men who had met together to pray that day stood up.
The missionary wasn't concerned with whom they were,
He was too busy counting how many men he saw.

There were 26.

Well, I am not ashamed to say I am religious and have a deep Christian faith which I am happy to share as and when - (not ram down people's throats I hasten to add).

Stories such as these abound in many books and are always inspiring.

I've heard it said that, whereas we once sent missionaries out to Africa, it's probably come to the point where they should be sending missionaries back to us!!!

Here here Cynthia.

Bit differend but so sad.
What would you do? You make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

AND NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.' So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:
1. Delete
2. Forward

May your day, be a Shay Day.