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Text Examples for
Stories
God's Chair:
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A man's daughter had asked the local priest to come and pray with her
father, lying very ill and needing consolation.
When the priest 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 priest at your local church," the priest 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 priest 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 priest talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head.
I abandoned any attempt at prayer," the old man continued, "until one
day a few 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; 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 have me committed to the funny farm."
The priest was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to
continue on the journey, he then prayed with him, and returned to the
church.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell the priest 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-really weird.
Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his
head on a chair beside the bed."
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To Remember Me:
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The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress in a hospital busily occupied with the living and dying. At a certain moment, a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped.
When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the Bed of Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.
Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.
Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.
Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week.
Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body, and find a way to make a crippled child walk.
Explore every corner of my brain. Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, some day, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
Burn what is left of me, and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.
If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses and all prejudice against my fellow man.
Give my sins to the devil. Give my soul to God.
If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs it. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.
Robert N. Test
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A Great Message:
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Sally jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room.
She said: "How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?"
The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it."
Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care anymore?
Where were you, God, when my son needed you?"
The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university."
Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good-bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair.
"Would you like a lock of his hair?" the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.
The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the university for study. He said it might help somebody else. I said no at first, but Jimmy said, "Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom."
She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could." Sally walked out of Children's mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car.
The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room. She started placing the model cars and other personal things, back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She laid down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.
It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Laying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:
Dear Mom, I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say I LOVE YOU. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room, and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, y'know.
Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place.
Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you goodbye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, y'know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him--'Where was He when I needed him?' God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children. Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper.
Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now. He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was "Special Delivery!" How about that?"
Signed with Love from: God, Jesus & Me
Sent in by Sharon McCarthy of Toronto, Canada
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God Loves You and So Do I!!:
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One day a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then she 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 their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.
That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual.
On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" she heard whispered. "I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!" and, "I didn't know others liked me so much," were most of the comments.
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She 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.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one to bless the coffin. As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. She nodded: "yes." Then he said: "Mark talked about you a lot."
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.
"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.
The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she 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."
All of Mark's former class mates started to gather around. 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 his 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 and without batting an eyelash, she continued: "I think we all saved our lists."
That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.
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, tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.... and one way to accomplish it is:
Forward this message on. If you do not send it, you will have, once again
passed up the wonderful opportunity to do something nice and beautiful.
If you've received this, it is because someone cares for you and it means
there is probably at least someone for whom you care.
Remember, you reap what you sow, what you put into the lives of others
comes back into your own.
May your day be as special as you are!
Sent in by Sharon McCarthy of Toronto Canada
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