Barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the people
go by.  She never  tried to speak, she never said a word. 
Many people passed, but never did one  person stop. 

Just so happens, the next day I decided to go back to the
park, curious if  the little girl would still be there.  Right in
the very spot as she was  yesterday, she sat perched on high,
with the saddest look in her eyes.  Today  I was to make my
own move and walk over to the little girl. 

As we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place
for young  children to play alone.  As I began walking
towards her, I could see the back  of the little girl's dress
indicated a deformity.  I figured that was the  reason the
people just passed by and made no effort to help. 

As I got closer, the little girl slightly lowered her eyes to
avoid my intent  stare.  I could see the shape of her back
more clearly.  It was grotesquely  shaped in a humped over
form.  I smiled to let her know it was OK, I was there  to
help, to talk.  I sat down beside her and opened with a
simple Hello.  The  little girl acted shocked and stammered a
"hi" after a long stare into my  eyes. 

I smiled and she shyly smiled back.  We talked until
darkness fell and the  park was completely empty. 
Everyone was gone and we at once was alone.  I  asked the
girl why she was so sad.  The little girl looked at me and
with a  sad face said, "Because I'm different." I immediately
said "that you are!"  and smiled.  The little girl acted even
sadder, she said, "I know." 

"Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and
innocent." She  looked at me and smiled, slowly she stood
to her feet, and said, "Really?"  "Yes, dear, you're like a
little guardian angel sent to watch over all those  people
walking by." She nodded her head "yes" and smiled, and
with that she  spread her wings and said, "I am.  I'm your
guardian angel," with a twinkle in  her eye.  I was
speechless, sure I was seeing things. 

She said, "For once you thought of someone other than
yourself, my job here  is done." Immediately I stood to my
feet and said, "Wait, so why did no one  stop to help an
angel?" She looked at me and smiled, "You're the only one
who  could see me, and you believe it in your heart." And
She was gone.  And with  that my life was changed
dramatically.  So, when you think you're all you  have,
remember, your angel is always watching over you.  Mine
was. 

I was walking down life's highway a long time ago.  One
day I saw a sign that  read, "Heaven's Grocery Store." 

As I got a little closer, the door came open wide, And when
I came to myself  I was standing inside. 

I saw a host of ANGELS.  They were standing everywhere. 
One handed me a basket  and said, "My Child, shop with
care." 

Everything a human needed was in that grocery store.  And
all you couldn't  carry, you could come back the next day
for more. 

First, I got some PATIENCE:  LOVE was in the same row. 
Further down was  UNDERSTANDING:  you need that
everywhere you go. 

I got a box or two of WISDOM, a bag or two of FAITH.  I
just couldn't miss the  HOLYGHOST, for it was all over the
place. 

I stopped to get some STRENGTH, and COURAGE to
help me run this race.  By then  my basket was getting full,
but I remembered I needed some GRACE. 

I didn't forget SALVATION, for SALVATION was free,
So I tried to get enough  of that to save both you and me. 

Then I started up to the counter to pay my grocery bill, For
I thought I had  everything to do the MASTER'S will. 

As I went up the aisle, I saw PRAYER:  And I just had to
put that in, For I  knew when I stepped outside, I would run
into sin. 

PEACE AND JOY were plentiful; they were last on the
shelf.  SONG and PRAISE  were hanging near, so I just
helped myself. 

Then I said to the angel, "Now, how much do I owe?" He
smiled and said, "Just  take them everywhere you go. 

Again, I smiled and said, "How much do I really owe?" He
smiled again and  said, "MY CHILD, GOD PAID YOUR
BILL A LONG, LONG TIME AGO." 

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another
baby  was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3
year old son,  Michael, prepare for a new sibling.  They
found out that the new baby  was going to be a girl, and day
after day, night after night, Michael  sang to his little sister
in Mommy's tummy.  He was building a bond  of love with
his little sister before he even met her.  The pregnancy 
progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the
Panther  Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown,
Tennessee.

In time, the labor pains came.  Soon it was every five
minutes,  every three, every minute.  But serious
complications arose during  delivery and Karen found
herself in hours of labor.  Would a C-section  be required? 
Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was 
born.  But she was in very serious condition.  With a siren
howling  in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the
neonatal  intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital,
Knoxville, Tennessee.

The days inched by.  The little girl got worse.  The pediatric
specialist  regretfully had to tell the parents, "There is very
little hope.  Be prepared  for the worst." Karen and her
husband contacted a local cemetery  about a burial plot. 
They had fixed up a special room in their home for the new
baby -- but now they found themselves having to plan for a 
funeral.

Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see
his sister.   "I want to sing to her," he kept saying.  Week
two in intensive care  looked as if a funeral would come
before the week was over.   Michael kept nagging about
singing to his sister, but kids are  never allowed in the
Intensive Care.  Karen made up her mind, though.   She
would take Michael whether they liked it or not!  If he didn't
see  his sister right then, he may never see her alive.

She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him
into ICU.   He looked like a walking laundry basket, but the
head nurse recognized  him as a child and bellowed "Get
that kid out of here now!   NO children are allowed!" The
mother rose up strong in Karen,  and the usually
mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the  head
nurse's face, her lips a firm line.  "He is not leaving until he 
sings to his sister!" Karen towed Michael to his sister's
bedside.   He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to
live.

After a moment, he began to sing.  In the pure hearted voice 
of a 3-year-old Michael sang:  "You are my sunshine, my
only  sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray."
Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond.  Her pulse rate
began to calm  down and become steady.  "Keep on singing,
Michael," encouraged  Karen with tears in her eyes.  "You
never know, dear, how much I love you.   Please don't take
my sunshine away." As Michael sang to his  sister, the
baby's ragged, strained breathing became as smooth  as a
kitten's purr.  "Keep on singing, sweetheart!" "The other
night,  dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my
hands..."  Michael's little sister began to relax as rest,
healing rest,  seemed to sweep over her.  "Keep on singing,
Michael."  Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy
head nurse. 

Karen glowed.  "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. 
Please don't take my sunshine away...." The next, day...the 
very next day...the little girl was well enough to go home! 
"Women's Day Magazine" called it "The Miracle of a
Brother's Song."  The medical staff just called it a miracle. 
Karen called it a miracle  of God's love!

Never give up on the people you love.  Love is so Incredibly
powerful.   Please send this to all the people that have
touched your life in some way.   To the world you may be
one person, but to one person, you may be the world.
 

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last
minute Christmas gifts.  I looked at all the people and
grumbled to myself.  I would be in here forever and I just
had so much to do.  Christmas  was beginning to become
such a drag.  I kinda wished that I could  just sleep through
Christmas.

But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the
toy department.   Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at
the prices of all these toys.  I wondered if the grandkids
would even play with them.  I found myself in the doll aisle. 
Out of the corner of my eye I saw  a little boy about 5
holding a lovely doll.  He kept touching her hair and  he
held her so gently.  I could not seem to help myself.  I just
kept  looking over at the little boy and wondered who the
doll was for.   I watched him turn to a woman and he called
his aunt by name and said,  "Are you sure I don't have
enough money?" She replied a bit impatiently,  "You know
that you don't have enough money for it."  The aunt told the
little boy not to go anywhere as she had to go get some 
other things and would be back in a few minutes and then
she left the aisle. 

The boy continued to hold the doll.  After a bit I asked the
boy  who the doll was for.  He said, "It is the doll my sister
wanted so  badly for Christmas.  She just knew that Santa
would bring it."  I told him that maybe Santa was going to
bring it.   He said, "No, Santa can't go where my sister is.  I
have to give the doll to my Mamma to take to her." I asked
him where his sister was.  He looked at me with the saddest
eyes and said, "She was gone to be with  Jesus.   My Daddy
says that Mamma is going to have to go to be with her." 

My heart nearly stopped beating.  Then the boy looked at
me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell mamma not  to
go yet.  I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the
store."  Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture.  I
told him I would love to.   He pulled out some pictures he'd
had taken at the front of the store.   He said "I want my
Mamma to take this with her so she don't ever forget me.   I
love my Mama so very much and I wish she did not have to
leave me, but Daddy says she will need to be with my
sister." I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and
had grown so very quiet.  While he was not looking I
reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills.  I
asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more
time?"  He grew excited and said, "Yes, I just know it has to
be enough."  So I slipped my money in with his and we
began to count it.   Of course, it was plenty for the doll.  He
softly said, "Thank you Jesus for giving me enough money." 

Then the boy  said, "I just asked Jesus to give me enough
money to buy this doll so  Mamma can take it with her to
give to my sister, and he heard my prayer.   I wanted to ask
him for enough to buy my Mamma a white rose, but I didn't 
ask him, but he gave me enough to buy her doll and a rose
for Mamma.   She loves white roses so very, very much."

In a few minutes the aunt came back and I wheeled my cart
away.  I could not keep from thinking about the little boy as
I finished my shopping in a  totally  different spirit than
when I had started.  I kept remembering a story I had  seen
in the newspaper several days earlier about a drunk driver
hitting a car  and killing a little girl, and the Mother was in
serious condition.  The  family was  deciding on whether to
remove the life support.  Now surely this little boy  did not
belong with that story.

Two days later, I read in the paper where the family had
disconnected the life support and the young woman had
died.  I could not forget the little boy and just kept
wondering if the two were somehow connected.  Later that
day, I could not help myself and went out and bought some
white roses and took them to the funeral home where the
young woman was.  There she was holding a lovely white
rose, the beautiful doll, and the  picture of the little boy in
the store.  I left there in tears, my life  changed forever.  The
love that little boy had for his little sister and his mother 
was overwhelming.  In a split second a drunk driver had
ripped the life of  that  little boy to pieces.

With a gentle look of reflection on her face, she paused and
said, "Before  class is over, I would like to share with all of
you a thought that is  unrelated to class, but which I feel is
very important.  Each of us is put  here on earth to learn,
share, love, appreciate and give of ourselves...  and  none of
us knows when this fantastic experience will end.  It can be
taken  away at any moment.  Perhaps this is God's way of
telling us that we must make  the most out of every single
day."

Her eyes beginning to water, she went on, "So I would like
you all to make me  a promise...  from now on, on your way
to school, or on your way home, find  something beautiful
to notice.  It doesn't have to be something you see - it 
could be a scent - perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting
out of someone's  house, or it could be the sound of the
breeze slightly rustling the leaves in  the trees, or the way
the morning light catches one autumn leaf as it falls  gently
to the ground.  Please, look for these things, and cherish
them.  For,  although it may sound trite to some, these
things are the 'stuff' of life.   The little things we are put here
on earth to enjoy.  The things we often take  for granted. 
We must make it important to notice them, for at any time... 
it  can all be taken away."

The class was completely quiet.  We all picked up our
books and filed out of  the room silently.  That afternoon, I
noticed more things on my way home from  school than I
had that whole semester.  Every once in a while, I think of
that  teacher and remember what an impression she made on
all of us, and I try to  appreciate all of those things that
sometimes we all overlook.

Take notice of something special you see on your lunch
hour today.  Go  barefoot.

Or walk on the beach at sunset.  Stop off on the way home
tonight to get a  double-dip ice cream cone.  For as we get
older, it is not the things we did  that we often regret, but
the things we didn't do.

 Lorraine Hansberry wrote a play called, "A Raisin in the
Sun." In that play a sister is completely out of patience with
her brother.  He has been so disgusting in her eyes that she
never again wants anything to do with him.

 But her mother is wise.  She tells her daughter that the time
to love somebody is not when they have done well and
made things easy for everyone.  The time to love somebody
is when "he's at his lowest and can't believe in himself 'cause
the world done whipped him so."

 She is telling her daughter that there is a time to patiently
bear with another.  And especially when that other is hard to
love and angry because "the world done whipped him so."

 Patiently bearing with another is not the same as allowing
yourself to be abused.  There is certainly a time to say,
"No," especially when someone's behavior is destructive. 
But there is also a time for understanding and patience.

 It has been said that patience is the ability to count down
before blasting off.  And an old Chinese proverb has it that
if you continually grind a bar of iron, you can make a needle
of it.  All it takes is patience.

 Is there someone who needs you to bear with them a little
longer?

The group were asked to come up with 5 questions before 
meeting with the Dalai Lama.  They were asked:

* How do we address the widening gap between rich &
poor?
* How do we protect the earth?
* How do we educate our children?
* How do we help Tibet & other oppressed
countries/peoples?
* How do we bring spirituality - deep caring for each other
- through all disciplines?

 The Dalai Lama said all the questions fall under the last
one.

If we have true compassion, our children will be educated,
we  will care for the earth, & for those who "have not".

He asked the group:   Do you think loving on the planet is 
increasing or staying the same?  His own response was, "My
experience  leads me to believe that love IS increasing." 

He shared a practice with the group that will increase loving 
& compassion in the world, & asked everyone attending to
go home  & share it with as many people as possible.

The Practice:
1.  Spend 5 minutes at the beginning of each day
remembering we  all want the same thing (to be happy &
loved)  & we are all connected.
2.  Spend 5 minutes cherishing yourself & others.  Let go of
judgments.  Breathe in cherishing yourself, & breathe out
cherishing others.  If the faces of people you are having
difficulty with appear, cherish them as well.
3.  During the day extend that attitude to everyone you
meet-we are all the same, & I cherish myself & you [do it
with the grocery store clerk, the client, your family,
coworkers, etc].
4.  Stay in the practice, no matter what happens.

 I will always remember Stella.  Elderly, blind and living
alone, one might think she should have spun long tales of
hardship and misery.  And I suppose she could have told
such stories; but she made little room in her life for self-pity. 
She might have mentioned the death of a son and her
husband, the glaucoma which finally claimed her eyesight,
the small pension that she was forced to subsist on and the
arthritis which kept her homebound in a little trailer house. 
And nobody could blame her had she spoken of loneliness
and despaired that she had grown so dependent on others.

 She could have lamented about all her hardships.  But she
didn't.  In all those years, I never knew Stella to dwell on
her difficulties -- either past or present.  But I frequently
recall her enumerating her good fortune.  Speaking of her
son, she often said:  "My Jimmy came to see me today.  He's
so good to me!" Of her friends, she often commented:  "I've
been talking on the phone all morning.  I'm so thankful I
have such good friends." Then, with a slap on her knee and
a broad smile on her lips, she would invariably exclaim, "I'm
the richest person in the world!"

 And maybe she was!  She had love.  She found it in her
friends, her family and her faith.  She had everything she
needed for a happy and fulfilled life.  And what's more, she
knew it.

 Stella spoke of her upcoming 90th birthday.  "All my family
will be here," she smiled.  And with that familiar slap on her
knee, she exclaimed, "You know, I'm the richest person in
the world!"

 But she barely made that birthday celebration herself. 
Several days prior she was laid in a hospital bed and slipped
into a coma.  Her family was told she would die shortly.  I
felt sad that she could not experience the celebration she
had anticipated for so long.

 However, a strange thing happened.  On the day of her
birthday, she opened her eyes and greeted the smiling faces
of family and friends surrounding her bed.  They had cake
and read cards.  They told her they loved her and they said,
"Good-bye." At one point, she looked at me with that
familiar twinkle in her eye, smiled and whispered, "I'm the
richest person in the world!"

 Stella went to sleep that night and slipped peacefully away. 
I have often wondered if she felt sorry for those who have
everything but happiness.  After all, they could be just as
wealthy and happy as she, if they only realized that the
greatest of all riches is love.

 Thanks to Stella, I have now decided to become the richest
person in the world!  And I think I can!
 

 One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid
from my class  was walking home from school.  His name
was Kyle.  It looked like he was  carrying all of his books.  I
thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home  all his
books on a Friday?  He must really be a nerd." I had quiet a
weekend  planned (parties and a football game with my
friends tomorrow afternoon), so  I shrugged my shoulders
and went on.   As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids
running toward him.  They ran at  him, knocking all his
books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in  the
dirt.  His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the
grass about  ten feet from him.  He looked up and I saw this
terrible sadness in his eyes.   My heart went out to him.

 So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking
for his  glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.  As I handed him
his glasses, I said,  "Those guys are jerks.  They really
should get lives."

 He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big
smile on his  face.  It was one of those smiles that showed
real gratitude.  I helped him  pick up his books, and asked
him where he lived.  As it turned out, he lived  near me, so I
asked him why I had never seen him before.  He said he had
gone  to private school before now.  I would have never
hung out with a private  school kid before.

 We talked all the way home, and I carried his books.  He
turned out to  be a pretty cool kid.  I asked him if he wanted
to play football on Saturday  with me and my friends.  He
said yes.  We hung all weekend and the more I got  to know
Kyle, the more I liked him.  And my friends thought the
same of him.

 Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge
stack of books  again.  I stopped him and said, "You are
gonna really build some serious  muscles with this pile of
books everyday!" He just laughed and handed me  half the
books.

 Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. 
When we were  seniors, we began to think about college. 
Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I  was going to Duke.  I
knew that we would always be friends, that the miles  would
never be a problem.  He was going to be a doctor, and I was
going for  business on a football scholarship.

 Kyle was valedictorian of our class.  I teased him all the
time about  being a nerd.  He had to prepare a speech for
graduation.  I was so glad it 

wasn't me having to get up there and speak.

Graduation day, I saw Kyle.  He looked great.  He was one
of those guys  that really found himself during high school. 
He filled out and actually  looked good in glasses.  He had
more dates than me and all the girls loved  him!  Boy,
sometimes I was jealous.  Today was one of those days.  I
could see  that he was nervous about his speech.  So, I
smacked him on the back and  said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be
great!" He looked at me with one of those  looks (the really
grateful one)  and smiled.  "Thanks," he said.

 As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began: 
"Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make
it through those  tough years.  Your parents, your teachers,
your siblings, maybe a coach...  but  mostly your friends.  I
am here to tell all of you that being a friend to  someone is
the best gift you can give them.  I am going to tell you a
story."

 I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story
of the  first day we met.  He had planned to kill himself over
the weekend.  He talked  of how he had cleaned out his
locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later  and was
carrying his stuff home.  He looked hard at me and gave me
a little  smile.

 "Thankfully, I was saved.  My friend saved me from doing
the  unspeakable."

 I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome,
popular boy told  us all about his weakest moment.  I saw
his Mom and Dad looking at me and  smiling that same
grateful smile.  Not until that moment did I realize it's 
depth.  Never underestimate the power of your actions. 
With one small  gesture you  can change a person's life. 
Look for good in others, as it is there for all to see.  If you
only look.  Be a friend. 

Sally was only eight years old when she heard Mommy and Daddy talking about her little brother, Georgi.  He was very sick and they had done everything they could afford to save his life.  Only a very expensive surgery could help him now .  .  .  and that was out of the financial question.  She heard Daddy say it with a whispered desperation, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Sally went to her bedroom and pulled her piggybank from its hiding place in the closet.  She shook all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully.  Three times.  The total had to be exactly perfect.  No chance here for mistakes.  Tying the coins up in a cold-weather-kerchief, she slipped out of the apartment and made her way to the corner drug store.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her attention .  .  but he was too busy talking to another well dressed man to be bothered by an eight-year-old.  Sally twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise.  She cleared her throat.  No good.  Finally she took a quarter from its hiding place and banged it on the glass counter.  That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice.  "I'm talking to my brother."

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Sally answered
back in the same annoyed tone.  "He's sick .  .  .  and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon," said the pharmacist.

"My Daddy says only a miracle can save him now .  .  .  so how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl.  I can't help you."

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it.  Just tell me how much it costs."

The well-dressed man stooped down and asked, "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

"I don't know," Sally answered.  A tear started down her cheek.  "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation.  But my folks can't pay for it .  .  .  so I have my money."

"How much do you have?" asked the well-dressed man.  "A dollar and eleven cents," Sally answered proudly.  "And it's all the money I have in the world."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the well-dressed man.  "A dollar and eleven cents .  .  .  the exact price of a miracle to save a little brother." He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said "Take me to where you live.  I want to see your brother and meet your parents."

That well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, renowned
surgeon.  .  .specializing in solving Georgi's malady.  The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Georgi was home again and doing well.  Mommy and Daddy were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place  "That surgery," Mommy whispered.  "It's like a miracle.  I wonder how much it would have cost?  "

Sally smiled to herself.  She knew exactly how much a miracle
cost...  one dollar and eleven cents...  plus the faith of a little child.

Some time ago, a few ladies met to study the scriptures.   While reading the third chapter of Malachi, they came upon a remarkable expression in the third verse:    "And He [God] shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" (Malachi 3:3). 

One lady decided to visit a silversmith to learn about the process of refining silver.  After the smith had described it to her, she asked, "But Sir, do you sit while the work of refining is going on?" 

 "Oh yes, Madam," replied the silversmith; "I must sit with my eye steadily fixed on the furnace, for if the time necessary for refining be exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver will be injured."

The lady at once saw the beauty, and comfort too, of the expression, "He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." 

God sees it needful to put His children into a furnace; His eye is steadily intent on the work of purifying, and His wisdom and love are both engaged in the best manner for us.  Our trials do not come at random, and He will not let us be tested beyond what we can endure. 

Before she left, the lady asked one final question, "When do you know the process is complete?" 

"Why that is quite simple," replied the silversmith.   "When I can see my own image in the silver, the refining process is finished."
 

 Where is Gods Perfection?    In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning disabled children.  Some children remain in Chush for their entire school career, while others can be main streamed into conventional schools.  At a Chush fund raising dinner, the father of a Chush child delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.  After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out, "Where is the perfection in my son Shaya?  Everything God does is done with perfection.  But my child cannot understand things as other children do.  My child cannot remember facts and figures as other children do.  Where is God's perfection?" The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's anguish and stilled by the piercing query.  "I
believe," the father said, "that when God brings a child like this into the world, the perfection that he seeks is in the way people react to this child." He then told the following
story about his son Shaya:  One afternoon Shaya and his father walked past a park where some boys Shaya knew were playing baseball.  Shaya asked, "Do you think they will let me play?"   Shaya's father knew that his son was not at all athletic and that most boys would not want him on their team.  But Shaya's father understood that if his son was chosen to play it would give him a comfortable sense of belonging.  Shaya's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if Shaya could play.  The boy looked around for guidance from his teammates.Getting none, he took
matters into his own hands and said "We are losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning.  I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him up to bat in the ninth inning." Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly.  Shaya was told to put on a glove and go out to play short center field.  In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.  In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again and now with two outs and the bases loaded with the potential winning run on base, Shaya was scheduled to be up.  Would the team actually let Shaya bat at this juncture and give away their chance to
win the game?  Surprisingly, Shaya was given the bat.  Everyone knew that it was all but impossible because Shaya didn't even know-how to hold the bat properly, let alone hit with it.  However, as Shaya stepped up to the plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya should at least be able to make contact.  The first pitch came in and Shaya swung clumsily and missed.  One of Shaya's teammates came up to Shaya and together they held the bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. 

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya.  As the pitch came in, Shaya and his teammate swung at the bat and together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher.  The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown the ball to the first baseman.  Shaya would have been out and that would have ended the game.   Instead, the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field, far beyond reach of the first baseman.  Everyone started yelling,"Shaya, run to first.  Run to first." Never in his life had Shaya run to first.  He scampered
down the baseline wide-eyed and startled.  By the time he reached first base, the right fielder had the ball.  He could have thrown the ball to the second baseman who would tag out Shaya, who was still running.  But the right fielder understood what the pitcher's intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the third baseman's head.  Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second."

Shaya ran towards second base as the runners ahead of him
deliriously circled the bases towards home.  As Shaya reached second base, the opposing short stop ran to him, turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to third." As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him screaming, "Shaya run home." Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand slam" and won the game for his team.  "That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "those 18 boys reached their level of God's perfection." Funny how
this is so true and shame on us!  Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world is going to hell. 

Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question whatthe Bible says.  Or is it scary?  Funny how someone can say "I believe in God" but still follow Satan (who by the way, also "believes" in God)  Funny how you can send a thousand 'jokes'  through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.  Funny how the lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but the public discussion of Jesus Christ is suppressed in the school and workplace.    Funny isn't it?    Funny how someone can be so fired up for God on Sunday, but be an invisible Christian the rest of the week.    Are you laughing?  

Funny how when you go to forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it to them.   Funny how I can be more worried about what other people think of me, than what God thinks of me........