A Letter From Home

I had a safe trip. The angels carried me safely into Father Abraham's bosom. Oh, the thrill I felt when I met the one that died for me!

And no matter what you've heard, there's just no words to describe the glories that surround him. I'm satisfied here; every need's been supplied. Just wait till you see my new home.

I'm satisfied because there's no sin here, no murders, no divorce, no abortions, and no need to ever have locks on the doors. Perfect peace reigns here. I'm satisfied because there's no sickness. Why, I've never felt better in my life! I have a brand new body just like Jesus.

And oh, I wish you could hear the singing. David played his harp today, and a great crowd gathered by the river of life and sang a new song. Of course, the angels couldn't sing that song, but they sure were listening. It's really wonderful here, because there are no strangers. Everyone knows me by name.

Why, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego showed me around. Seems like I've been here forever. The weather is great. There's a cool breeze blowing all the time. And you know one of the nicest things, night and darkness never comes. It's light here all the time, for Jesus himself is the light of the city.

Please, remember, I'm safe, I'm satisfied, and I'm not sick anymore. There will be no need for me to write again, because I was told today that nothing here ever changes. In closing, the only thing that would make this wonderful place more complete is for all my family and friends to join me here in Heaven.

Author Unknown

Beyond Death

A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was leaving the room after paying a visit, and said, "Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side."

Very quietly the doctor said, "I don't know."

"You don't know? You, a Christian man, do not know what is on the other side?"

The doctor was holding the handle of the door, on the other side of which came a sound of scratching and whining, and as he opened the door a dog sprang into the room and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.

Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice that dog? He had never been in this room before. He did not know what was inside. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened he sprang in without fear.

I know little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know one thing: I know my Master is there, and that is enough. And when the door opens, I shall pass through with no fear, but with gladness.

Author Unknown

Dr. William's Is Upstairs

A doctor who had devoted his life to helping the underprivileged lived over a liquor store in the poor section of a large city. In front of the liquor store was a simple sign reading "Dr. Williams is upstairs."

When he died, he had no relatives and he left no money for his burial. He had never asked for payment from anyone he had ever treated. Friends and patients scraped enough money together to bury the good doctor, but they had no money for a tombstone. It appeared that his grave was going to be unmarked until someone came up with a wonderful suggestion.

They took the sign from in front of the liquor store and nailed it to a post over his grave. It made a lovely epitaph: Dr. Williams is upstairs.

Author Unknown

God Is Good

There was an old man at our church who had loved God all of his life. This man John, walked around saying "God is Good". He said it all the time, whenever and wherever he was. When John got married he said, "God is Good".

When John lost his job he said, "God is Good". When John's father died he said, "God is Good". When Johns wallet got stolen he said, "God is Good".

Well, you get the idea, no matter what John did, or what happened to him, we would always hear him say, "God is Good".

A few months ago, John was diagnosed with cancer. The disease had spread rapidly and he was told by his doctor he'd have only a few weeks to live. Still, even on his death bed, John could be heard by everyone in the hospital repeating his famous line, "God is Good".

Our pastor Charles was Johns best friend. Charles went everyday to visit John in the hospital. And every night before Charles left John would tell him, "God is Good".

Finally after weeks of watching his best friend get worse and worse from his terminal disease, Charles just could not stand it any longer and asked John, " John you are my best friend and I love you. I love the Lord as much as you do, too. I have listened to you say that God is Good your whole life. Through the good times, maybe I can understand you saying how good God is. Maybe even through the hard times, to help yourself cope. But now, laying here on your death bed, how can you be so optimistic? How can you say 'God is good' every day when you know he is letting you die?"

John just looked at Charles and smiled.

"Dear friend, don't you see all of those times I was saying God was Good, it was my way of praising him in the little way I could. And look what my reward is for remaining faithful, I am dying. You say God is letting me die as if that is a bad thing. Charles, have you forgotten that is our goal. To live our life for Him, and join him one day in heaven. See, GOD IS GOOD! He has finally called me home and in a few hours I will be with Him. I can't imagine anything greater than that."

John died that night in his sleep. Charles stood up and said only two things at John's funeral: "I will miss my friend but I know I will see him again one day soon, and GOD IS GOOD."

Let us praise the Lord in everything that comes our way for our reward will be great in Heaven...

Author unknown

Letter From Heaven

To my dearest family, some things I'd like to say.

But first of all, to let you know, that I arrived okay. I'm writing this from heaven. Here I dwell with God above. Here, there's no more tears of sadness; Here is just eternal love.

Please do not be unhappy just because I'm out of sight. Remember that I am with you every morning, noon and night. That day I had to leave you when my life on earth was through.

God picked me up and hugged me and He said, "I welcome you. It's good to have you back again, you were missed while you were gone. As for your dearest family, They'll be here later on. I need you here badly, you're part of my plan. There's so much that we have to do, to help our mortal man." God gave me a list of things, that he wished for me to do. And foremost on the list, was to watch and care for you. And when you lie in bed at night the day's chores put to flight. God and I are closest to you....in the middle of the night.

When you think of my life on earth, and all those loving years. Because you are only human, they are bound to bring you tears. But do not be afraid to cry: it does relieve the pain. Remember there would be no flowers, unless there was some rain.

I wish that I could tell you all that God has planned. If I were to tell you, you wouldn't understand. But one thing is for certain, though my life on earth is o'er. I'm closer to you now, than I ever was before. There are many rocky roads ahead of you and many hills to climb; But together we can do it by taking one day at a time.

It was always my philosophy and I'd like it for you too; That as you give unto the world, the world will give to you. If you can help somebody who's in sorrow and pain; Then you can say to God at night......"My day was not in vain." And now I am contented....that my life was worthwhile.

Knowing as I passed along the way I made somebody smile. So if you meet somebody who is sad and feeling low; Just lend a hand to pick him up, as on your way you go. When you're walking down the street and you've got me on your mind; I'm walking in your footsteps only half a step behind.

And when it's time for you to go....from that body to be free. Remember you're not going.....you're coming here to me.

Author Unknown

Life Support

We either have been, or will be, put in the position of comforting someone who is in grief. That is an important role played by good friends. The most common question I hear on such occasions is, "What should I say?" We want to help, but we feel helpless to make a difference in the face of such tragedy. I have often remembered a story told by Joseph Baylys when I struggle to say the "right thing" to someone who is hurting.

Mr. Baylys lost three children to death over the course of several years. He wrote a book called, *The View From A Hearse*, in which he talks about his grief He says this about comforting those who grieve:

"I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God's dealings, of why it happened, of hope beyond the grave. He said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except to wish he would go away. He finally did. Someone else came and sat beside me. He didn't talk. He didn't ask leading questions. He just sat with me for an hour or more, listened when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go."

I have found Joseph Baylys experience to be excruciatingly typical. Both men wanted to help. Both men cared. But only one truly comforted. The difference was this:

One tried to make him feel better. The other just let him feel. One tried to say the right things. The other listened. One told him it would be all right. The other shared his pain.

When put in the difficult position of comforting someone in emotional pain, sometimes what needs to be said can be said best with a soft touch or a listening ear. It may not seem like much, but it can be more than you will ever know.

Author Unknown

Permanent Address

A young woman completing a job application came to the line asking for her "Permanent address." She began to list her street and house
number but paused for a moment. Then, with a small smile she wrote, "HEAVEN."

She understood that Heaven is a real place... and the ultimate home of God's children.

No place on earth is truly home for those who belong to God's family. The Bible says that we are travelers... just passing through. Heaven
is the ultimate, eternal destination for those who love God. In fact, their time on earth is like one small dot on a continuous,
never-ending line.

Is God the landlord of your permanent home? If not, then the time is Right to start investing in the future. Ask God to wash you clean and
forgive your trespasses and sins so that you will be suitably clothed for Heaven's splendor. Ask Him to make you His child through the sacrifice
of His Son. Ask Him to reserve a place for you, so that you can be with Him forever.

Heaven is the best home of all because God lives there. It is filled with hope and joy and peace and love, and it's forever. Start planning
for your future today!

Author Unknown

Remember Adam

The following is a true story as told to the author by Margi Brockhaus, R.N. at Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. However, the person who sent me the article forgot to include who the actual author was, so he/she is unknown. Adam was just two weeks shy of his 12th birthday when he was diagnosed with malignant fibrous histiocytoma, which is a cancer that is very rare in children. There are only 15 known pediatric cases in the United States.

Adam was given only a 12% chance of survival. He went through three major surgeries and a year and a half of chemotherapy. And throughout that time we all came to know Adam well. You see, Adam never lost his sense of humor. And he was very much a ladies' man; a heartbreaker who loved to tease and flirt with all the nurses. A 12 year-old boy who endeared himself to every one of us. So in May of 1992 when he was taken off therapy and given a clean bill of health, we all shared in Adam's joy, and we finally thought that we had won one of our battles.

A month later he went out to California to celebrate and spend time at Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm and all those good places. One morning when he tried to get up he was unable to walk and move his right arm. He was rushed back to Children's Mercy Hospital where he was found to have a large brain tumor in his brain stem.

The tumor was an extension of the previous cancer that he had had. The biopsy of the tumor itself held almost a 20% chance of killing him, but Adam insisted on the biopsy to see if there was any type of chemo that could be used to treat it. The tumor was found to be inoperable.

Not only did he get cancer that is not known to occur in children, but Adam is the first known case in medical history to have that cancer occur in his brain. When Adam discovered that he was the first person in the world with this, he said to me with his enduring sense of humor, "Well, at least I'll be remembered for something."

He went downhill very quickly after that and, except for a few days to visit friends, never got out of the hospital again. Toward the middle of September he was really starting to withdraw. He would stop talking to his mother, with whom he had a very close relationship. You see, Adam's parents were divorced and Adam lived with his mom. And although Mom and Dad were still very bitter and angry with one another, they put their feelings aside for the sake of Adam.

But their response to Adam's cancer was very different. Dad firmly believed, after seeing so many sick and dying children at the hospital, that there was no God anywhere that would let this happen to a child, while Mom continued to believe and put her faith in God.

And for the previous year and a half that I worked with Adam, we had all called on God's name frequently: "God will watch over you, Adam." "God can help you through this." "Put your faith in God, Adam."

During those last two weeks, perhaps Adam was the most honest. He was very angry at God because of what was happening to him. And I think he earned the right to question God. But, at the same time, he simply said that he understood that this was an imperfect world and that these things happen. This from a boy who had had to grow up before his time, a boy who had lived through more pain and harsh reality than many of us will ever face.

And that's when it occurred to me.

Throughout this entire time, from Adam's diagnosis over a year and a half ago until now, no one had ever mentioned Jesus to Adam. No one had ever shared the story of Jesus' pain and suffering in order to bridge the gap between God and this imperfect world.

So one day when we were alone, I asked him if he believed in Jesus. He said he wasn't really sure. He said his dad told him that there wasn't even a God. But Adam didn't buy that. He said he believed anyway. But ever since he'd been sick, his mom had stopped talking about Jesus. She talked about God, but not Jesus.

So Adam told me he wasn't really sure, but that he wanted to believe, and what did I think? So I shared with him my feelings and my faith. Then he asked me, "Why do you think Jesus lets this happen to kids?" And I said I didn't know. I don't think any of us do.

But I did tell him that when I get to heaven I'm certainly going to ask Him.

And then Adam told me about his grandmother who was already in heaven. He talked a great deal about her and he kept saying, "Do you think I'll see her when I get there?" And I told him yes, that I believed he would.

During the last 24 hours, Adam was in a coma more often than not. There were only a few hours that he was really coherent. But he told me before he went into the coma that he was ready to die, that he didn't want to do this any more, that his body had quit working.

The only reason he really didn't want to die was because he was worried about his mom. He didn't want to leave her because he was afraid that she wouldn't be able to handle it emotionally. But I told Adam it was ok, that I had talked to his mom. And that she would miss him, and yes she loved him, but it was ok and not to hang on for her sake. She did not want him to do that.

These were things Adam's mom could not share with him, but she told me. I became kind of the go-between. Mom said this, Adam said that; but somehow it worked for them.

All the while Adam's dad just sat in the corner, very angry, hardly able to speak to Adam.

The last eight hours that Adam was alive, I sat with him and watched him go in and out of a coma. But I also watched miracles begin to happen.

How can I tell you what occurred in that room? Even now, it is so vivid in my mind and yet so hard to express.

At one point Adam began to giggle. And he said, "Grandma? It's me--Adam. Oh, yeah, I'll be there. It's ok, you go on back, I'll be there. He said it was my time, and I'm ready."

It was incredible, because even though I couldn't hear Grandma's answers, I knew what she was saying by the look on Adam's face.

As he laid in bed, his face would suddenly brighten up. He would open his eyes a little bit sometimes and always look up. He would smile, he would giggle. He would gasp and hold his breath in excitement. It was unbelievable.

Then he began talking again. He said, "Yes? Yes, I'm ready. Really? Are you sure? She's going to be there? Oh, that's neat. Oh, yes, I've heard it's beautiful. Ok. Well, you don't think I'm ready? But I am ready. Oh . . . oh, I understand. Well, then I'll go back and take care of those few things. All right."

And then Adam laid still a while. And all of us in that room just looked on this child's face and felt the presence in that room. And there was no question in any of our minds who Adam was talking to.

And then, minutes later, he about came up off his pillow and he said, "Michael! You're kidding! Really, oh that's so neat. Yeah, Michael, how ya doing?"

You see, Michael was another 13-year-old boy Adam had watched die just six weeks before. Then Adam said, "That's awesome!" as only a teenager can say it. What that "awesome" was about, I don't know. Michael was probably describing something wonderful up in heaven.

Adam didn't say anything for a little while. And then he started to cry and I reached over and stroked his face, and I said, "Adam, it's ok. Margi's here."

I asked him, "Is there anything you need?" And Adam shook his head and he said, "Oh, it's so beautiful. It's so beautiful and it doesn't hurt." And I just sat on his bed and sobbed with him.

Then he started up his conversation again. "Yes, oh, yes, I do think it is beautiful. Oh you've made it so beautiful. Yes, I'm ready. And I'm not going to hurt? Nobody will hurt? My mom won't hurt?" And his face got a little distressed, because I think God was honest with him and told him that his mom was going to hurt but that He'd take care of her.

Adam's breathing was starting to get very very erratic, and his mom sat down next to him on the bed and was stroking his face and holding his hand and telling him "Mom is here, Adam. Mom is here." Adam opened his eyes and looked up into the room and said, "You've got to tell her that we'll be together again."

And Adam's mom said, "Oh, you're right Adam, we'll be together again." And Adam repeated over, "You've got to tell her. Are You going to tell her? Ok. When are You going to tell her?" Adam set his jaw and said, "No! Well, why are You going to wait? No, You've got to tell her we'll be together again. Yes, yes, I'm coming. But You've got to tell her we'll be together again."

Then Adam listened for a moment, and whatever God said to him, Adam's face began to change. And suddenly it got so hot in that room that everyone noticed it. There was a presence that we all felt. There was simply no denying it. And it was at this point that I believe God started telling Adam about Jesus.

Adam got very upset and began to cry the kind of tears that you and I once had before it became an old story to us. Can you remember? Can you recall what it was like the first time you grasped the implications of what Christ did for you? Can you remember how over-whelmed you were by it? By His willingness to be crucified, to die for you?

Well, it was that kind of grief that rolled down Adam's cheek as he said, "Oh, I'm so sorry. You did that for me, for everybody? Oh, I'm so sorry." And then he said, "Yes God, I know . . . I know. Yes I do. Oh, yes, I really do."

Adam didn't say anything else for almost 45 minutes. Then at about 6:50 he started making pre-death noises. I don't know how to describe it to you unless you've been around a lot of children who have died. Things in your body just happen and you make noises. And then Adam asked, "Are You sure there's room for me? Ok. 8:20. Yes, I'll see You at 8:20. Yes, I'm ready. Yes, tell them I'm coming." He kept repeating it over and over again.

At exactly 7:12 Adam took his last breath. But no one left that room. Usually when a child dies it takes anywhere from 15 to 25 minutes for them to get what is called the "mask of death" -- blood pools to the back of their body, their faces turn grayish-white, and the body begins to get cold.

But with Adam none of that happened. His body stayed warm. His color remained. He did not get that grayish shroud that children get. And the room stayed very warm. There was such an incredible presence. And Adam's mom and I just wrapped our arms around each other and prayed. And I watched Adam's father finally leave his corner chair and make his way to the side of Adam's bed and get on his knees and bow his head. I didn't hear everything he said. But I did her the Name of Jesus. And, I believe with all my heart that Adam stayed in that room until 8:20.

I'm not sure why. I don't know if it was to witness how his mom would handle his passing and to make sure she would be all right, or if it was to hear his dad acknowledge Jesus Christ. But I do know that at exactly 8:20 everything that should have happened an hour before started happening very, very quickly.

I know that Adam is in a far better place. But his life has touched mine in ways I have yet to discover. And the last hours of his life will stay with me forever. It is so vivid in my memory, I dream it. Adam reminds me daily that it is not our circumstance but Christ's sacrifice that gives us hope, hope in the midst of despair.

So tonight, when you tuck your children in bed, hold them close. Tell them about Jesus. Tell them there's plenty of room.

And remember Adam . . .

Author Unknown

The Coroner's Convinced

In one of his fine messages Pastor-Evangelist Bog Eggers related the following story as told to him by a Christian coroner in Texas. Rev. Milton Kerri confirmed the story, since he also knew the coroner and heard it from his own lips.

The task of the coroner is to officially pronounce and document the death of a person; so he is among the first to be called to a home or mortuary to examine dead bodies. One day at a funeral home in Texas town, the coroner of our story, who was not a Christian at the time, was called to view the body of a man who was brought in. Though he had examined hundreds of bodies before under similar circumstances, in this particular case the coroner could not help but notice the horrible expression left upon the face of the deceased man.

Later that same day, at the same funeral home, this coroner was called upon to confirm the death of a little child. When he observed the lifeless form of this little girl, again he could not help but notice the surpassing beauty, the evident peacefulness and even joy upon her countenance. In contrast, he moved across the hall to look again into the face of the man, brought in earlier.

For some time the coroner had been wrestling with the conviction that he ought to get right with God. For some time he had good intentions of going to church with his Christian wife, walking the aisle and giving his heart to Christ, but each Sunday, at the invitation he would get "cold feet" and put the matter off. After closely observing this day; these two contrasting faces at the funeral home, he could not sleep that night. The vision of these faces - the ugly, horrible countenance of the mature man; the innocent, angelic, and peaceful expression of the beautiful little girl - kept coming before him. Surely, he thought, there was a reason for the difference. Finally he concluded that the difference was their eternal destinies.

He rose from his bed, fell upon his knees, poured out his soul to God and gave his heart to Jesus Christ.

The next morning, this now Christian coroner determined to confirm the truth of his speculations. So he looked up the parents of the deceased child and asked them if their little daughter had ever trusted Jesus Christ as Savior. They tearfully, yet joyfully said yes, just a few weeks before she died, she had been converted when a Sunday school teacher talked to her.

Then the coroner looked up the survivors of the particular man whose face of horror had so indelibly impressed him. Upon inquiry he learned that this man had never darkened the doorstep of any church, had never displayed he slightest interest in his soul's eternal welfare, but rather was a wicked and profane man.

For sometime thereafter the coroner conducted a more extensive experiment, and examined the bodies of about one hundred deceased persons brought to his attention; in each case recording in a notebook his impressions as to their spiritual condition at the time of death, as judged from their facial appearance. Then, he went to their survivors to confirm the accuracy of his spiritual diagnosis. In ninety-two percent of the cases, his impressions were proven to be correct, as to whether they were saved or lost.

Author Unknown

The Dark Candle

A man had a little daughter -- an only and much-beloved child. He lived for her -- she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts of them best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health. His best efforts proved unavailing and the child died.

The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from his many friends and refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self. But one night he had a dream. He was in Heaven, and was witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne.

Every white-robed angelic child carried a candle. He noticed that one child's candle was not lighted. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl. Rushing to her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and then asked: "How is it, darling that your candle alone is unlighted? "Father, they often re-light it, but your tears always put it out." Just then he awoke from his dream.

The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate. From that hour on he was not a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates. No longer would his darling's candle be extinguished by his useless tears.

"For You have delivered my soul from death. Have you not kept my feet from falling, That I may walk before God In the LIGHT of the living?" (Psalms 56:13NKJ) Jesus Loves You!

Author Unknown

The Empty Chair

A man's daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father. When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed. The priest assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. "I guess you were expecting me," he said.

"No, who are you?"

"I'm the new associate at your local church," the pastor replied. "When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up."

"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bedridden man. "Would you mind closing the door?"

Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.

"I've never told anyone this, not even my daughter," said the man. "But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head.."

"I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, 'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here's what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It's not spooky because he promised, 'I'll be with you always.' Then just speak to him and listen in the same way you're doing with me right now."

"So, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I'm careful, though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm."

The pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, and returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her daddy had died that afternoon.

"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.

"Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange, In fact, beyond strange--kinda weird. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed."

Author Unknown

The Old Fisherman

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance of John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to out patients at the clinic.

One summer evening as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking man. "Why, he's hardly taller than my eight-year-old," I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But the appalling thing was his face-lopsided from swelling, red and raw. Yet his voice was pleasant as he said, "Good evening. I've come to see if you've a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the Eastern Shore, and there's no bus till morning." He told me he'd been hunting for a room since noon but with no success, no one seemed to have a room. "I guess it's my face...I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments . . ."

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me: "I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning." I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch. I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. "No thank you. I have plenty." And he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn't take long time to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband, who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn't tell it by way of complaint; in fact, every other sentence was preface with a thanks to God for a blessing.

He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going. At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children's room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded and the little man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for his bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, "Could I please come back and stay the next time I have a treatment? I won't put you out a bit. I can sleep fine in a chair." He paused a moment and then added, "Your children made me feel at home. Grownups are bothered by my face, but children don't seem to mind."

I told him he was welcome to come again. And on his next trip he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he left so that they'd be nice and fresh I knew his bus left at 4:00 a.m. and I wondered what time he had to get up in order to do this for us.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times we received packages in the mail, always by special delivery; fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed. Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and knowing how little money he had made the gifts doubly precious. When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next-door neighbor made after he left that first morning. "Did you keep that awful looking man last night?

I turned him away! You can lose roomers by putting up such people!" Maybe we did lose roomers once or twice. But oh! If only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family always will be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse, As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all, a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But to my great surprise, it was growing in an old dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, "If this were my plant, I'd put it in the loveliest container I had!" My friend changed my mind. "I ran short of pots," she explained, "and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn't mind starting out in this old pail. It's just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden." She must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. "Here's an especially beautiful one," God might have said when he came to the soul of the sweet old fisherman. "He won't mind starting in this small body."

All this happened long ago-and now, in God's garden, how tall this lovely soul must stand.

Author Unknown

The Parable of the Twins

Once upon a time, twin boys were conceived. Weeks passed and the twins developed. As their awareness grew, they laughed for joy: "Isn't it great that we were conceived? Isn't it great to be alive?"

Together the twins explored their world. When they found their mother's cord that gave them life, they sang for joy! "How great is our mother's love, that she shares her own life with us!"

As weeks stretched into months, the twins noticed how much each was changing. "What does it mean?" asked one.

"It means our stay in this world is drawing to an end." said the other.

"But I don't want to go," said one. "I want to stay here always."

"We have no choice," said the other. "But maybe there is life after birth."

"But how can there be?" responded one. "we will shed our life cord and how is life possible without it? Besides, we have seen evidence that others were here before us, and none of them has returned to tell us there is life after birth. No, this is the end. Maybe there is no mother at all."

"But there has to be," protested the other. "How else did we get here? How do we remain alive?"

"Have you ever seen our mother?" said one. "Maybe she only lives in our minds. Maybe we made her up because the idea made us feel good."

So, the last days in the womb were filled with deep questioning and fear. Finally, the moment of birth arrived.

When the twins had passed from their world, they opened their eyes and cried for joy - for what they saw exceeded their fondest dreams. That is death as experienced by Christians.

Author Unknown

The Sting

This is little story told at a funeral recently. It has a play on words about a "sting" which is vivid in its application: Once a boy and his father were driving along the road in the family car, when a bee flew in the window. The boy got very upset when he saw the bee buzzing around his head, and he began throwing his arms around madly, almost causing an accident. Maybe you think he was a coward, but that boy was a special case. You see he was allergic to bee stings! The doctors had told him that if he ever got stung by a bee again he would die of the sting! So naturally enough the boy was very frightened of the bee. The father tried to brush it out of the car window, but couldn't make it go out. So he quickly grabbed the bee! But it escaped, and buzzed around the boy's head again making him scream with terror this time.

Well, the bee was still in the car, but the father pulled over to the edge of the road and said to the boy, "It is OK, you are all right." Then he opened his hand, and there sticking into his palm the boy could see the bee sting! His father had allowed the bee to sting himself! He had taken the sting out of the danger. There was no danger about the bee any more.

The pastor told that story to show us all that Jesus Christ has taken the "sting" out of death itself. He let death "sting" Him instead of ourselves, so we could live forever and never die. How wonderful. The Bible tells us about that "sting" being taken out of death by Jesus Christ: "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (I Corinthians 15:55-57)

The sting of death is sin - and the strength of sin is the law. Sin makes us unable to face a Holy God after we die. We cannot keep God's Law. But Jesus Christ has fixed that for us, He has given believers the "victory" or made us winners over death. Praise God, we will never really die when we trust in Jesus as our Lord.

Author Unknown

The Verdict

After living a "decent" life my time on earth came to an end. The first thing I remember is sitting on a bench in the waiting room of what I thought to be a courthouse. The doors opened and I was instructed to come in and have a seat by the defense table. As I looked around I saw the "prosecutor." He was a villainous looking gent who snarled as he stared at me, he definitely was the most evil person I have ever seen.

I sat down and looked to my left and there sat my lawyer, a kind and gentle looking man whose appearance seemed very familiar to me. The corner door flew open and there appeared the judge in full flowing robes. He commanded an awesome presence as he moved across the room and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. As he took his seat behind the bench he said, "Let us begin."

The Prosecutor rose and said "My name is Satan and I am here to show you why this man belongs in hell." He proceeded to tell of lies that I told, things that I stole and in the past when I cheated others. Satan told of other horrible perversions that were once in my life and the more he spoke the further down in my seat I sank. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my own lawyer, as the Devil told of sins that even I had completely forgotten about. As upset as I was at Satan for telling all these things about me, I was equally upset at my representative who sat there silently not offering any form of defense at all. I know I had been guilty of those things, but I had done some good in my life-couldn't that at least equal out part of the harm I've done. Satan finished with a fury and said "This man belongs in hell, he is guilty of all that I have charged and there is not a person who can prove otherwise.

Justice will finally be served this day." When it was his turn, my lawyer first asked if he might approach the bench. The judge allowed this over the strong objection of Satan, and beckoned him to come forward. As he got up and started walking I was able to see him now in his full splendor and majesty. Now I realized why he seemed so familiar, this was Jesus representing me, my Lord and my Savior. He stopped at the bench and softly said to the judge "Hi Dad" and then He turned to address the court.

"Satan was correct in saying that this man had sinned, I won't deny any of these allegations. And yes the wages of sins is death and this man deserves to be punished". Jesus took a deep breath and turned to His Father with out-stretched arms and proclaimed "However, I died on the cross so that this person might have eternal life and he has accepted Me as his Savior, so He is mine." My Lord continued with "His name is written in the book of life and no one can snatch him from Me. Satan still does not understand yet, this man is not to be given justice but rather mercy." As Jesus sat down, He quietly paused, looked at his Father and replied "There is nothing else that needs to be done, I've done it all".

The Judge lifted His mighty hand and slammed the gavel down and the following words bellowed from His lips- "This man is free-the penalty for him has already been paid in full, case dismissed." As my Lord led me away I could hear Satan ranting and raving "I won't give up, I'll win the next one."

I asked Jesus as He gave me my instructions where to go next "Have you ever lost a case?" Christ lovingly smiled and said "Everyone that has come to me and asked Me to represent them has received the same verdict as you, "Paid in Full."

Author Unknown

Why Should We Never Fear Death?

Barbara was driving her six-year-old son, Benjamin, to his piano lesson. They were late, and Barbara was beginning to think she should have cancelled it. There was always so much to do, and Barbara, a night-duty nurse at the local hospital, had recently worked extra shifts. She was tired. The sleet storm and icy roads added to her tension. Maybe she should turn the car around.

“Mom!” Ben cried. “Look!” Just ahead, a car had lost control on a patch of ice. As Barbara tapped the brakes, the other car spun wildly rolled over, then crashed sideways into a telephone pole. Barbara pulled over, skidded to a stop and threw open her door. Thank goodness she was a nurse – she might be able to help these unfortunate passengers. Then she paused. What about Ben? She couldn’t take him with her. Little boys shouldn’t see scenes like the one she anticipated. But was it safe to leave him alone? What if their car were hit from behind?

For a brief moment Barbara considered going on her way. Someone else was sure to come along. No! “Ben, honey, promise me you’ll stay in the car!” “I will, Mommy,” he said as she ran, slipping and sliding toward the crash site. It was worse than she’d feared.

Two girls of high school age are in the car. One, the blond on the passenger side, was dead, killed on impact. The driver, however was still breathing. She was unconscious and pinned in the wreckage. Barbara quickly applied pressure to the wound in the teenager’s head while her practiced eye catalogued the other injuries. A broken leg, maybe two, along with probable internal bleeding. But if help came soon, the girl would live.

A trucker had pulled up and was calling for help on his cellular phone. Soon Barbara heard the ambulance sirens. A few moments later she surrendered her lonely post to rescue workers. “Good job,” one said as he examined the driver’s wounds. “You probably saved her life, ma’am.” Perhaps. But as Barbara walked back to her car a feeling of sadness overwhelmed her, especially for the family of the girl who had died. Their lives would never be the same. Oh, God, why do such things have to happen?

Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. “Mom,” he whispered, “did you see it?” “See what, Honey?” she asked. “The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky while you were running to the car. And he opened the door, and he took that girl out.”

Barbara’s eyes filled with tears. “Which door, Ben?” “The passenger side. He took the girl’s hand, and they floated up to Heaven together” “What about the driver?” Ben shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone else.”

Later, Barbara was able to meet the families of the victims. They expressed their gratitude for the help she had provided. Barbara was able to give them something more – Ben’s vision.

There was no way he could have known what happened to either of the passengers. Nor could the passenger door have been opened; Barbara had seen its tangle of immovable steel herself. Yet Ben’s account brought consolation to a grieving family. Their daughter was safe in Heaven. And they would see her again.

Author Unknown