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* A LOVE STORY *
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One day, I woke early in the morning to watch the sunrise.
Ah the beauty of God's creation is beyond description.
As I watched, I praised God for His beautiful work.
As I sat there, I felt the Lord's presence with me.

He asked me, "Do you love me?"
I answered, "Of course, God! You are my Lord and Saviour!"

Then He asked, "If you were physically handicapped, would you still love me?"
I was perplexed. I looked down upon my arms, legs and the rest of my body and wondered how many things I wouldn't; be able to do, the things that I took for granted.

And I answered, "It would be tough Lord, but I would still love You."
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Then the Lord said, "If you were blind, would you still
love my creation?"

How could I love something without being able to see it?
Then I thought of all the blind people in the world and
how many of them still loved God and His creation.

So I answered, "Its hard to think of it, but I would
still love you."
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The Lord then asked me, "If you were deaf, would you still
listen to my word?"
How could I listen to anything being deaf?
Then I understood. Listening to God's Word is not
merely using our ears,but our hearts.
I answered, "It would be tough, but I would still
listen to Your word."
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The Lord then asked, "If you were mute, would you
still praise My Name?"
How could I praise without a voice? Then it occurred
to me: God wants us to sing from our very heart and
soul. It never matters what we sound like. And praising
God is not always with a song, but when we are persecuted,
we give God praise with our words of thanks.
So I answered, "Though I could not physically sing, I
would still praise Your Name.
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And the Lord asked, "Do you really love Me?"
With courage and a strong conviction, I answered boldly,
"Yes Lord! I love You because You are the one and true God!"
I thought I had answered well, but God asked, "THEN WHY DO
YOU SIN?"
I answered, "Because I am only human. I am not perfect."
"THEN WHY IN TIMES OF PEACE DO YOU STRAY THE FURTHEST?
WHY ONLY IN TIMES OF TROUBLE DO YOU PRAY THE EARNEST?"
No answers. Only tears.
The Lord continued: "Why only sing at fellowships and
retreats? Why seek Me only in times of worship? Why ask
things so selfishly? Why ask things so unfaithfully?"
The tears continued to roll down my cheeks.
"Why are you ashamed of Me? Why are you not spreading the
good news? Why in times of persecution, you cry to others
when I offer My shoulder to cry on?
Why make excuses when I give you opportunities to serve
in My Name?"
I tried to answer, but there was no answer to give.
"You are blessed with life. I made you not to throw this
gift away. I have blessed you with talents to serve Me,
but you continue to turn away. I have revealed My Word
to you, but you do not gain in knowledge. I have spoken
to you but your ears were closed. I have shown My bless-
ings to you, but your eyes were turned away. I have sent
you servants, but you sat idly by as they were pushed
away. I have heard your prayers and I have answered them
all." "DO YOU TRULY LOVE ME ?"
I could not answer. How could I? I was embarrassed beyond
belief. I had no excuse. What could I say to this? When
I my heart had cried out and the tears had flowed, I said,
Please forgive me Lord. I am unworthy to be Your child."

The Lord answered, " That is My Grace, My child."
I asked, " Then why do you continue to forgive me? Why do
You love me so?"
The Lord answered, " Because you are My creation. You are
my child. I will never abandon you. When you cry, I will
have compassion and cry with you. When you shout with
joy, I will laugh with you. When you are down, I will
encourage you. When you fall, I will raise you up. When
you are tired, I will carry you. I will be with you till
the end of days, and I will love you forever."

Never had I cried so hard before. How could I have been so
cold? How could I have hurt God as I had done? I asked God,
"How much do You love me?"
The Lord stretched out His arms, and I saw His nail-pierced
hands. I bowed down at the feet of Christ, my Saviour. And
for the first time, I truly prayed.
Author Unknown

OPEN MY EYES

Lord, open my eyes that I may see,
What you have today for me,
What I should learn, what I should do,
Starting my day looking to you.

Lord, open my eyes that I may see,
What you have in your word for me.
What I should read. What I should hear,
Starting with you my day is so dear.

Lord, open my eyes that I may see.
What you have in prayer for me,
What I should feel, what I should say
Praying with you begins my day.

Lord, open my eyes, that I may see,
Each day, my opportunity,
To win some sin bound soul for thee.
And in so doing they may be free.

Lord, open my eyes all the way,
Open them wide and let them stay,
Only on you till eternity,
Lord, this the only way for me.

Amen

By: J.C. Shipp

THE AUCTION

Miraculously, his wife became pregnant in her later years, and
she gave birth to a little boy. The boy was severely handicap-
ped, but the man loved him with his whole heart. When the boy
was five, his mom died. The dad drew closer to his special son.
At age 13, the boys's birth defects cost him his life and the
father died soon after from a broken heart.

The estate was auctioned before hundreds of bidders. The first
item offered was a painting of the the boy. No one bid. They
waited like vultures for the riches. Finally, the poor house-
maid, who helped raise the boy, offered $5 for the picture and
easily took the bid. To every-one's shock, the auctioneer rip-
ped a hand written will from the back of the picture. This is
what it said: "To the person who thinks enough of my son to buy
this painting, to this person I give my entire estate."

The auction was over. The greedy crowd walked away in shock and
dismay.

How many of us have sought after what we thought were true riches
only to find out later that our Father was prepared to give us
His entire estate?
Source unknown

THE THREE TREES

The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling
by on it's way to the ocean. "I want to be traveling mighty waters
and carrying powerful kings. I'll be the strongest ship in the world!"

The third little tree looked down into the valley below where
busy men and women worked in a busy town. "I don't want to leave
the mountain top at all. I want to grow so tall that when people
stop to look at me, they'll raise their eyes to heaven and think of God.
I will be the tallest tree in the world."

Years passed. The rain came, the sun shone, and the little
trees grew tall. One day three woodcutters climbed the mountain.

The first woodcutter looked at the first tree and said, "This
tree is beautiful. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his
shining axe, the first tree fell.

"Now I shall be made into a beautiful chest, I shall hold
wonderful treasure!" The first tree said.

The second woodcutter looked at the second tree and said, "This
tree is strong. It is perfect for me." With a swoop of his shining
axe, the second tree fell.
"Now I shall sail mighty waters!" thought the second tree. "I
shall be a strong ship for mighty kings!"

The third tree felt her heart sink when the last woodcutter
looked her way. She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to
heaven.

But the woodcutter never even looked up. "Any kind of tree
will do for me." He muttered. With a swoop of his shining axe, the
third tree fell.

The first tree rejoiced when the woodcutter brought her to a
carpenter's shop. But the carpenter fashioned the tree into a
feedbox for animals.

The once beautiful tree was not covered with gold, with
treasure. She was coated with saw dust and filled with hay for
hungry farm animals.

The second tree smiled when the woodcutter took her to a
shipyard, but no mighty sailing ship was made that day. Instead the
once strong tree was hammered and sawed into a simple fishing boat.
She was too small and too weak to sail to an ocean, or even a river;
instead she was taken to a little lake.

The third tree was confused when the woodcutter cut her into
strong beams and left her in a lumberyard.

"What happened?" The once tall tree wondered. "All I ever
wanted was to stay on the mountain top and point to God..."

Many many days and nights passed. The three trees nearly
forgot their dreams.

But one night, golden starlight poured over the first tree as a
young woman placed her newborn baby in the feedbox.

"I wish I could make a cradle for him." her husband whispered.

The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone
on the smooth and the sturdy wood. "This manger is beautiful." she
said.

And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest
treasure in the world.

One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the
old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep as the second tree
quietly sailed out into the lake.

Soon a thundering and thrashing storm arose. The little tree
shuddered. She knew she did not have the strength to carry so many
passengers safely through with the wind and the rain.

The tired man awakened. He stood up, stretched out his hand,
and said, "Peace." The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun.

And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the king of
heaven and earth.

One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams
were yanked from the forgotten woodpile. She flinched as she was
carried through an angry jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers
nailed a man's hands to her.

She felt ugly and harsh and cruel.

But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled
with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God's love had changed
everything.

It had made the third tree strong.

And every time people thought of the third tree, they would
think of God.

That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.

"For unto us a child is born and unto us a son is given, and the
government shall be upon his shoulders, and his name shall be called,
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince
of Peace.
ISAIAH 9:6

TEARS OF JOY

You've probably heard that old story,
Much the same as have I,
The story of how the second coming
Of OUR LORD is drawing nigh.

Some have heard this story for so long,
That it's become old news to them
I believe there are tears in Jesus' eyes
As He wants you to know, my friend.

Time is getting short, so we need to get
Busy and prove to Him that we still care,
There are so many around us who've never heard,
Of that home so bright and fair.

All the while it's in our pew that we sit,
As we say that we've done our part,
Let's get up, get around, and tell others
So they too can have Jesus in their heart

Just think of all the joy that you will feel
And they will know what we know
Tears of JOY will freely flow as we say,
There is another going to that Heavenly Home.

RAY SANDERS -- 1992

YOU MAY REPRINT THIS WITH RAY'S PERMISSION AND THANKS
GORDON STANHOPE

The Jelly Bean Prayer

All The Good Things

All the Good Things:    He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful.    Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.    One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"    It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.    I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me.    That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
   At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.
   One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
   It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Marked said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."
   That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!"
   No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
   That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, "Dad?" My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."
   Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend."    To this day II can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.    I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.
   The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.    I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
   After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."
   Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you so much for doing that" Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."
   Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and > showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."
   That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

THE END
   written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosia

   The purpose of this letter, is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things, could mean the most to another.
   I am asking you, to please send this letter around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density of people in society, is so thick, that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, I beg of you, to tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.