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bot1tle
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« Reply #195 on: October 11, 2011, 09:59AM »

 
This is great.   Take a moment to read it; it will make your  day!


The ending will surprise  you.

   
Take my  Son.....
 
 


A  wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had  everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would  often sit together and admire the great works of  art..


 
When the Vietnam conflict broke out,  the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while  rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply  for his only son..




About a month later, just before  Christmas,


There was a knock at the door. A young  man stood at the door with a large package in his  hands..




He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but  I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many  lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet  struck him in the heart and he died instantly... He often talked  about you, and your love for art.' The young man held out this  package. 'I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but  I think your son would have wanted you to have  this.'




The father

Opened the package. It  was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in  awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son  in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own  eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to  pay him for the picture.. 'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your  son did for me. It's a gift.'




The father hung the  portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he  took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any  of the other great works he had  collected.




The man died a few months later. There  was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people  gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an  opportunity to purchase one for their  collection.




On the platform sat the painting of  the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the  bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this  picture?'




There was  silence...


Then a voice in the back of the  room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this  one.'




But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will  somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100,  $200?'




Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come  to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh'S, the Rembrandts.  Get on with the Real bids!'



But still the auctioneer continued.  'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?'



Finally, a voice came  from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the  man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting...' Being a poor  man, it was all he could afford.



'We have $10, who will  bid $20?'


'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the  masters.'



The crowd was becoming angry. They  didn't want the picture of the son.




They wanted the more  worthy investments for their collections.



The auctioneer pounded  the gavel.. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for  $10!'



A man sitting on the second row  shouted, 'Now let's get on with the  collection!'




The auctioneer laid down his gavel.  'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'

 

'What about the  paintings?'


'I am sorry. When I was called to  conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the  will... I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this  time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever  bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the  paintings.


The man who took the son gets  everything!'

God gave His son over 2,000  years ago to die on the Cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message  today is: 'The Son, the Son, who'll take the  Son?'

Because, you see, whoever takes the  Son gets everything!




FOR GOD SO  LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER  BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT'S  LOVE


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hayleynibhaoleafh<3'scelticwoman!
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U can have my <3, if U don't mind broken things...


« Reply #196 on: October 11, 2011, 06:17PM »


This is great.   Take a moment to read it; it will make your  day!


The ending will surprise  you.

   
Take my  Son.....
 
 


A  wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had  everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would  often sit together and admire the great works of  art..


 
When the Vietnam conflict broke out,  the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while  rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply  for his only son..




About a month later, just before  Christmas,


There was a knock at the door. A young  man stood at the door with a large package in his  hands..




He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but  I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many  lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet  struck him in the heart and he died instantly... He often talked  about you, and your love for art.' The young man held out this  package. 'I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but  I think your son would have wanted you to have  this.'




The father

Opened the package. It  was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in  awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son  in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own  eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to  pay him for the picture.. 'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your  son did for me. It's a gift.'




The father hung the  portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he  took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any  of the other great works he had  collected.




The man died a few months later. There  was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people  gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an  opportunity to purchase one for their  collection.




On the platform sat the painting of  the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the  bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this  picture?'




There was  silence...


Then a voice in the back of the  room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this  one.'




But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will  somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100,  $200?'




Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come  to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh'S, the Rembrandts.  Get on with the Real bids!'



But still the auctioneer continued.  'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?'



Finally, a voice came  from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the  man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting...' Being a poor  man, it was all he could afford.



'We have $10, who will  bid $20?'


'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the  masters.'



The crowd was becoming angry. They  didn't want the picture of the son.




They wanted the more  worthy investments for their collections.



The auctioneer pounded  the gavel.. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for  $10!'



A man sitting on the second row  shouted, 'Now let's get on with the  collection!'




The auctioneer laid down his gavel.  'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'

 

'What about the  paintings?'


'I am sorry. When I was called to  conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the  will... I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this  time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever  bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the  paintings.


The man who took the son gets  everything!'

God gave His son over 2,000  years ago to die on the Cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message  today is: 'The Son, the Son, who'll take the  Son?'

Because, you see, whoever takes the  Son gets everything!




FOR GOD SO  LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER  BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT'S  LOVE




Cry This is so touching... thank you, thank you so much for sharing this! Cry
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Loooooove Hayley xxx
~~~~~~~Maybe it's not about the happy endings... maybe it's about the story...~~~~~~
Friend are angels ~*~ Cherish them
RoAR
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« Reply #197 on: October 12, 2011, 10:07PM »

I've read that story before! I LOVE IT!!!
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NicholeLovesCW
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Love to you always Chloë :) Xxx *4/9/2011*


« Reply #198 on: October 13, 2011, 08:51AM »

That was so beautiful.... I have tears in my eyes :*) so beautiful and so so true Cheesy thank you so much for posting that!
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Thanks Michelle!
April 9th was the best night EVER! Thankful for all of my forum friends! Smiley Thanks for all the love <3
bot1tle
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« Reply #199 on: October 13, 2011, 03:08PM »


This is a true story, per Truth or Fiction.com. Hope you appreciate it
and
want to pass it along.

http://www.truthorfiction.com/rumors/r/rickenbacker.htm


It happened every Friday evening, almost without fail, when the sun
resembled a giant orange and was starting to dip into the blue ocean.

Old Ed came strolling along the beach to his favorite pier.. Clutched in
his bony hand was a bucket of shrimp. Ed walks out to the end of the
pier,
where it seems he almost has the world to himself. The glow of the sun
is a
golden bronze now.

Everybody's gone, except for a few joggers on the beach.  Standing out
on
the end of the pier, Ed is alone with his thoughts...and his bucket of
shrimp.

Before long, however, he is no longer alone. Up in the sky a thousand
white
dots come screeching and squawking, winging their way toward that lanky
frame standing there on the end of the pier.

Before long, dozens of seagulls have enveloped him, their wings
fluttering
and flapping wildly. Ed stands there tossing shrimp to the hungry birds.
As he does, if you listen closely, you can hear him say with a smile,
'Thank you.  Thank you.'

In a few short minutes the bucket is empty.  But Ed doesn't leave.

He stands there lost in thought, as though transported to another time
and
place.

When he finally turns around and begins to walk back toward the beach, a
few of the birds hop along the pier with him until he gets to the
stairs,
and then they, too, fly away.  And old Ed quietly makes his way down to
the
end of the beach and on home.

If you were sitting there on the pier with your fishing line in the
water,
Ed might seem like 'a funny old duck,' as my dad used to say.
Or, 'a guy who's a sandwich shy of a picnic,' as my kids might say.
To onlookers, he's just another old codger, lost in his own weird world,
feeding the seagulls with a bucket full of shrimp.

To the onlooker, rituals can look either very strange or very empty.
They can seem altogether unimportant ...

maybe even a lot of nonsense.

Old folks often do strange things, at least in the eyes of Boomers and
Busters.

Most of them would probably write Old Ed off, down there in  Florida .
That's too bad. They'd do well to know him better.

His full name:  Eddie Rickenbacker.  He was a famous hero back in World
War
II.  On one of his flying missions across the Pacific, he and his
seven-member crew went down.  Miraculously, all of the men survived,
crawled out of their plane, and climbed into a life raft.

Captain Rickenbacker and his crew floated for days on the rough waters
of
the Pacific. They fought the sun. They fought sharks.  Most of all, they
fought hunger.  By the eighth day their rations ran out. No food.
No water.  They were hundreds of miles from land and no one knew where
they were.

They needed a miracle. That afternoon they had a simple devotional
service
and prayed for a miracle. They tried to nap.  Eddie leaned back and
pulled
his military cap over his nose. Time dragged.  All he could hear was the
slap of the waves against the raft.

Suddenly, Eddie felt something land on the top of his cap.

It was a seagull!

Old Ed would later describe how he sat perfectly still, planning his
next
move.  With a flash of his hand and a squawk from the gull, he managed
to
grab it and wring its neck..  He tore the feathers off, and he and his
starving crew made a meal - a very slight meal for eight men - of it.
Then
they used the intestines for bait..  With it, they caught fish, which
gave
them food and more bait......and the cycle continued.  With that simple
survival technique, they were able to endure the rigors of the sea until
they were found and rescued (after 24 days at sea...).

Eddie Rickenbacker lived many years beyond that ordeal, but he never
forgot
the sacrifice of that first life-saving seagull..  And he never stopped
saying, 'Thank you.'  That's why almost every Friday night he would walk
to
the end of the pier with a bucket full of shrimp and a heart full of
gratitude.


PS:  Eddie started Eastern Airlines.


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bot1tle
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« Reply #200 on: October 24, 2011, 07:39AM »

How can I get along with them all?
 
 I think that each one helps to bring out a "different" part of me.
 
 With one of them I am polite.
I joke with another friend.
I sit down and talk about serious matters with one.
With another I laugh a lot.
I may have a drink with one.
I listen to one friend's problems.
 
 Then I listen to another one's advice for me.
 
 My friends are all like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
When completed, they form a treasure box.
A treasure of friends!


They are my friends who understand me better than myself,


Who support me through good days and bad days.
We all pray together and for each other.
 
 Real Age doctors tell us that friends are good for our health.


Dr.. Oz calls them Vitamins F (for Friends) and counts the

benefits of friends as essential to our well being. Research

shows that people in strong social circles have less risk of

depression and terminal strokes.. If you enjoy Vitamins F

constantly you can be up to 30 years younger than your real age.

The warmth of friendship stops stress and even in your most

intense moments it decreases the chance of a cardiac arrest or

stroke by 50%.

I'm so happy that I have a stock of Vitamins F!

In summary, we should value our friends and keep in touch with them.
We should try to see the funny side of things and laugh together,
 and pray for each other in the tough moments.

Thank you for being one of my Vitamins! 
 


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RoAR
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It's far beyond the stars...


« Reply #201 on: October 24, 2011, 08:41AM »

@bot1tle: I've been loving all the stories you've posted here! I recognize some of them, but I'm not sure why. Where did you get the story 3 stories ago?
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bot1tle
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« Reply #202 on: November 01, 2011, 11:39AM »

@ RoAR......friends send them to me.....
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Magic~5
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CELTIC WOMAN + MUSIC = love for a lifetime!!!!!!!!


« Reply #203 on: November 18, 2011, 03:10PM »

bot1tle:   I found another story that is ABSOLUTELY the best way to look at life and still have fun!!!!  Smiley

NEED WASHING?

            A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart.
            She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence.


            It was pouring outside.
            The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters,
            so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout..
            We all stood there, under the awning, just inside the door of the WalMart.

            We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day.

            I am always mesmerized by rainfall.
            I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world.
            Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in
            as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

            Her little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in,
            'Mom let's run through the rain,'

            She said.

            'What?' Mom asked.


            'Let's run through the rain!' She repeated.

            'No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit,' Mom replied.

            This young child waited a minute and repeated: 'Mom, let's run through the rain..'

            'We'll get soaked if we do,' Mom said.

            'No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning,' the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.

            'This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?'

            'Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said,
            ' If God can get us through this, He can get us through anything! ' '



            The entire crowd stopped dead silent..
            I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain..
            We all stood silently. No one left.
            Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say.



            Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly.
            Some might even ignore what was said.
            But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life.
            A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.



            'Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain.
            If GOD let's us get wet, well maybe we just need washing,' Mom said.





            Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing
            as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles.
            They got soaked..




            They were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like
            children all the way to their cars.
            And yes, I did.


            I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.



            Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions,
            they can take away your money,
            and they can take away your health.
            But no one can ever take away your precious memories....
            So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories everyday.



            To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.




            I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.





            They say it takes a minute to find a special person,
            an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them,
            but then an entire life to forget them.






            Send this to the people you'll never forget and remember to
            also send it to the person who sent it to you.
            It's a short message to let them know that you'll never forget them.





            If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry.


            Take the time to live!!!


            Keep in touch with your friends,
            you never know when you'll need each other --
            And don't forget to run in the rain!

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bot1tle
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« Reply #204 on: December 07, 2011, 08:55AM »

The
Cab Ride

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.
after waiting a few minutes
I walked to the
door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a
frail, elderly voice. I could hear something
being dragged across the floor.

After
a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in
her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a
print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned
on it, like somebody out of a 1940's
movie.

By her side was a small nylon
suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years. All the furniture was
covered with sheets.

There were no
clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils
on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and
glassware.

'Would you carry my bag
out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase
to the cab, then returned to assist the
woman.

She took my arm and we walked
slowly toward the curb.

She kept
thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I
told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers
the way I would want my mother to be
treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good
boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave
me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'

'It's not the
shortest way,' I answered
quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she
said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a
hospice.

I looked in the rear-view
mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have
any family left,' she continued in a soft
voice.. 'The doctor says I don't have very
long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the
meter.

'What route would you like me
to take?' I asked.

For the next two
hours, we drove through the city. She showed me
the building where she had once worked as an
elevator operator.

We drove through the
neighborhood where she and her husband had lived
when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in
front of a furniture warehouse that had once
been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a
girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow
in front of a particular building or corner and
would sit staring into the dar kness, saying
nothing.

As the first hint of sun was
creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm
tired. Let's go now'.

We drove in
silence to the address she had given me. It was
a low building, like a small convalescent home,
with a driveway that passed under a
portico.

Two orderlies came out to
the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were
Solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened
the trunk and took the small suitcase to
the door. The woman was already seated in a
wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?'
She asked, reaching into her
purse.

'Nothing,' I
said

'You have to make a living,' she
answered.

'There are other
passengers,' I responded.

Almost
without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She
held onto me tightly.

'You gave an
old woman a little moment of joy,' she
said.
'Thank you.'

I squeezed her
hand, and then walked into the dim morning
light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound
of the closing of a life..

I didn't
pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove
aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that
day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had
gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient
to end his shift?
What
if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
once, then driven away?

On a quick
review, I don't think that I have done anything
more important in my life.

We're
conditioned to think that our lives revolve
around great moments.

But great
moments often catch us unaware-beautifully
wrapped in what others may consider a small
one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT
~THEY WILL
ALWAYS REMEMBER
HOW YOU MADE THEM
FEEL.

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RoAR
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« Reply #205 on: December 10, 2011, 03:56PM »

I love both those stories...this is a great thread!
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bot1tle
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« Reply #206 on: December 24, 2011, 08:45AM »


Thanks, RoAR......May have seen this before, but a great story this time of trhe year...

 I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.


May you always have LOVE to share,
HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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RoAR
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It's far beyond the stars...


« Reply #207 on: December 26, 2011, 09:09AM »

I think I have read that one before...and it's still just as sweet as the first time through!
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bot1tle
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« Reply #208 on: January 05, 2012, 10:00AM »

Ruth  went to her mail box and there was only one  letter. 



   
She  picked it up and looked at it before opening,  but then she looked at the envelope  again.. 



   
There  was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and  address. 



   
She  read the letter: 



   
Dear  Ruth: 



   
I?  going to be in your neighborhood Saturday  afternoon and I'd like to stop by for a  visit. 



   
Love  Always, 


   
Jesus 



   
Her  hands were shaking as she placed the letter on  the table. 'Why would the Lord want to visit  me? 


   
I'm  nobody special.. I don't have anything to  offer.' 



   
With  that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen  cabinets. 



   
'Oh  my goodness, I really don't have anything to  offer. I'll have to run down to the store and  buy something for dinner..' 



   
She  reached for her purse and counted out its  contents. Five dollars and forty  cents. 



   
Well,  I can get some bread and cold cuts, at  least.' 



   
She  threw on her coat and hurried out the  door. 



   
A  loaf of French bread, a half-pound of sliced  turkey, and a carton of milk...leaving Ruth with  grand total twelve cents to last her until  Monday. 



   
Nonetheless,  she felt good as she headed home, her meager  offerings tucked under her  arm. 



   
'Hey  lady, can you help us, lady?' 



   
Ruth  had been so absorbed in her dinner plans, she  hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the  alleyway. 



   
A  man and a woman, both of them dressed in little  more than rags. 



   
'Look  lady, I ain't got a job, you know, and my wife  and I have been living out here on the street,  and, well, now it's getting cold and we're  getting kinda 
hungry  and, well, if you could help us Lady, we'd  really appreciate it.' 



   
Ruth  looked at them both. 



   
They  were dirty, they smelled bad and frankly, she  was certain that they could get some kind of  work if they really wanted  to. 



   
'Sir,  I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman  myself. All I have is a few cold cuts and some  bread, and I'm having an important guest for  dinner tonight and I was planning on serving  that to Him.' 
 


 
'Yeah,  well, okay lady, I understand. Thanks  anyway.' 



   
The  man put his arm around the  woman's 
shoulders,  turned and headed back into the  alley. 



   
As  she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar  twinge in her heart. 



   
'Sir,  wait!' 



   
The  couple stopped and turned as she ran down the  alley after them. 



   
'Look,  why don't you take this food. I'll figure out  something else to serve my  guest.' 



   
She  handed the man her grocery  bag. 



   
'Thank  you lady. Thank you very  much!' 



   
'Yes,  thank you!' It was the man's wife, and Ruth  could see now that she was  shivering 



   
'You  know, I've got another coat at  home. 



   

0A 
Here,  why don't you take this one.' 



   
Ruth  unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the  woman's shoulders. 



   
Then  smiling, she turned and walked back to the  street...without her coat and with nothing to  serve her guest. 



   
'Thank  you lady! 



   
Thank  you very much!' 



   
Ruth  was chilled by the time she reached her  front 

door,  and worried too. 



   
The  Lord 


   
was  coming to visit and she didn't have anything to  offer Him. 



   
She  fumbled through her purse for the door key. But  as she did, she noticed another envelope in her  mailbox. 



   
'That's  odd. The mailman doesn't usually come twice in  one day.' 



   
Dear  Ruth: 



   
It  was so good to see you again. 



   
Thank  you for the lovely meal. 



   
And  thank you, too, for the beautiful  coat. 



   
Love  Always, 


   
Jesus 


   
The  air was still cold, but even without her coat,  Ruth no longer noticed. 
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bot1tle
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« Reply #209 on: January 12, 2012, 01:13PM »

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