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INSPIRATIONAL STORIES

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The man whispered "God speak to me" And a meadowlark sang. But
 the man did not hear. So the man yelled "God speak to me!" And the
 thunder rolled across the sky. But the man did not listen. The man looked
 around and said "God let me see you" And a star shone brightly. But the
 man did not notice. And the man shouted "God show me a miracle" And a
 life was born. So, the man cried out in despair. "Touch me God and let me
 know that you are here! Whereupon God reached down and touched the man.
 But the man brushed the butterfly away and walked on.
 Moral of the story: Don't miss out on a blessing because it
 isn't packaged the way you expect.

What It Means To Be Adopted
Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family.
One little boy in the picture had a different color hair than the other
family members. One child suggested that he was adopted and a little girl
said, "I know all about adoptions because I was adopted." "What does it mean
to be adopted?" asked another child. "It means," said the girl, "that you
grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy."

The Most Caring Child
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to
judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The
winner was a four-year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly
gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little
boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat
there. When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little
boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Barney
A four year old was at the pediatrician for a check up. As the doctor looked
down her ears with an orthoscope, he asked, "Do you think I'll find Big Bird
in here?" The little girl stayed silent. Next, the doctor took a tongue
depressor and looked down her throat. He asked, "Do you think I'll find the
Cookie Monster down there?" Again, the little girl was silent. Then the
doctor put a stethoscope to her chest. As he listened to her heartbeat, he
asked, "Do you think I'll hear Barney in here?" "Oh, no!" the little girl
replied. "Jesus is in my heart Barney's on my underpants."

Discouraged?
As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local Little
League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat
down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what
the score was. "We're behind 14 to nothing," he answered with a smile.
"Really," I said. "I have to say you don't look very discouraged."
"Discouraged?" the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face. "Why should we
be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet."

Roles And How We Play Them
Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in my life, I stop and think about
little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play. His
mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he
would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to
collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and
excitement. "Guess what Mom?" he shouted, "I've been chosen to clap and
cheer."

A Lesson In Heart
A lesson in "heart" is my little, 10 year-old-daughter, Sarah, who was born
with a muscle missing in her foot and wears a brace all the time. She came
home one beautiful spring day to tell me she had competed in "field day" -
that's where they have lots of races and other competitive events. Because of
her leg support, my mind raced as I tried to think of encouragement for my
Sarah, things I could say to her about not letting this get her down-but
before I could get a word out, she said "Daddy, I won two of the races!" I
couldn't believe it! And then Sarah said, "I had an advantage." Ah. I knew
it. I thought she must have been given a head start. . . some kind of
physical advantage. But again, before I could say anything, she said "Daddy,
I didn't get a head start… My advantage was I had to try harder!"

What's important to you? Click here and think about it!

The Choices We Make
Michael is the kind of guy you love to hate. He is always in a good mood and always has something
positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would
 be twins!" He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Michael was there telling the
employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Michael and asked him, "I don't get it! You
 can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?" Michael replied, "Each morning I
wake up and say to myself, Mike, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you
can choose to be in a bad mood. I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can
choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone
comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of
life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested. "Yes, it is, "Michael said. "Life is all about choices. When
you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You
choose how people affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your
choice how you live life."

I reflected on what Michael said. Soon thereafter, I left the tower industry to start my own business. We
lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it. Several
years later, I heard that Michael was involved in a serious accident, falling some 60 feet from a
communications tower. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Michael was released from the
hospital with rods placed in his back.

I saw Michael about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he replied. "If I were
any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds, but did ask him what had
gone through his mind as the accident took place. "The first thing that went through my mind was the well-being of
my soon to be born daughter, "Michael replied. "Then, as I lay on the ground, I remembered that I had two
choices: I could choose to live or I could choose to die. I chose to live. "Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I
asked. Michael continued, "...the paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine.
But when they wheeled me into the ER and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I
got really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's a dead man." I knew I needed to take action."
"What did you do?" I asked. "Well there was a big burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Michael. "
She asked if I was allergic to anything. "Yes, I replied" The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited
for my reply. I took a deep breath and yelled, "Gravity!" Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am
choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."

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

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble
of its own." Matthew 6:34

 A child's love
Think about this next time you go to a restaurant.

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik
in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking.
Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." He pounded
his fat baby hands on the highchair tray. His eyes were wide with
excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He wriggled
and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man
whose pants were baggy with a zipper half down and his toes poked
out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed
and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his
nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from
him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.

His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; hi there,
big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik. My husband and I
exchanged looks, "What do we do?" Erik continued to laugh and answer,
"Hi, hi there."

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man.
The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal
came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya know
patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo."

Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband
and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was
running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn,
reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband
went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The
old man sat poised between me and the door. "Lord, just let me out of
here before he speaks to me or Erik," I prayed. As I drew closer to the
man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might
be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms
in a baby's "pick-me-up" position.

Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the
man's. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated
their love relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and
submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's
eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands,
full of grime, pain, and hard labor-gently, so gently, cradled my baby's
bottom and stroked his back.

No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood
awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment,
and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm
commanding voice, "You take care of this baby." Somehow I managed,
"I will," from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his
chest unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my
baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my
Christmas gift."

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran
for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik
so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me." I had just
witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who
saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who
saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who
was not. I felt it was God asking- "Are you willing to share your son for
a moment?" -- when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter the Kingdom
of God, we must become as little children."

Keep Your Fork
There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been
given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order", she
contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects
of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service,
what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried
in. The woman also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible. Everything
was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly
remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she
said excitedly. "What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very
important," the woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right
hand." The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite what to say.
"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm
puzzled by the request," said the pastor. The woman explained. "In all my
years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that
when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would
inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part
because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake
or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance! So, I just
want people to see me there in the casket with a fork in my hand and I want
them to wonder, "What's with the fork?" Then, I want you to tell them: "Keep
your fork....The best is yet to come". The pastor's eyes welled up with tears
of joy as he hugged the woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last
times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had
a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was
coming. At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw
the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite Bible and the fork placed
in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question, "What's with
the fork?" And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told
the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died.
He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The
pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told
them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind
you oh so gently, that the best is yet to come.

God's Wife
(Wishfully, this is the kind of thing that would happen frequently,
everywhere...) A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe
store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering
with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you
looking so earnestly in that window?" "I was asking God to give me a pair of
shoes." was the boys reply. The lady took him by the hand and went into the
store and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She
then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly
brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store
and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them
with a towel. By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a
pair upon the boy' feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes. She tied up the
remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and
said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you'll feel more comfortable now?" As she
turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand, and looking up in
her face, with tears his eyes, answered the question with these words: "Are
you God's Wife?"

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