Quote from Forum Archives on December 2, 2002, 8:26 am

Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>

*** Do You Have The Strength ***

A little boy was spending his Saturday morning playing in his sandbox. He had with him his box of cars and trucks, his plastic pail, and a shiny, red plastic shovel. In the process of creating roads and tunnels in the soft sand, he discovered a large rock in the middle of the sandbox.
 
The boy dug around the rock, managing to dislodge it from the dirt. With no little bit of struggle, he pushed and nudged the rock across the sandbox by using his feet. (He was a very small boy and the rock was very large.)
 
When the boy got the rock to the edge of the sandbox, however, he found that he couldn't roll it up and over the little wall. Determined, the little boy shoved, pushed, and pried, but every time he thought he had made some progress, the rock tipped and then fell back into the sandbox.
 
The little boy grunted, struggled, pushed, & shoved; but his only reward was to have the rock roll back, smashing his chubby fingers. Finally he burst into tears of frustration. All this time the boy's father watched from his living room window as the drama unfolded. At the moment the tears fell, a large shadow fell across the boy and the sandbox. It was the boy's father.
 
Gently but firmly he said, "Son, why didn't you use all the strength that you had available? Defeated, the boy sobbed back, "But I did, Daddy, I did! I used all The strength that I had!" "No, son," corrected the father kindly. "You didn't use all the strength you had." You didn't ask me."
 
With that the father reached down, picked up the rock, and removed it from the sandbox. Do you have "rocks" in your life that need to be removed? Are you discovering that you don't have what it takes to lift them? There is One who is always available to us and willing to give us the strength we need.
 
Isn't it funny how we try so hard to do things ourselves. Sadly, many adults who have been Christians for years are trying to do everything themselves and only turning to God as a last resort. God wants to be your first resort. Let Him help you with your trials, tribulations and temperament. He loves you so much . . . all He wants you to do is ask Him to help.

 

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*** Grandpa's Table ***

 

A frail old man went to live with is son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together at the table, but the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating very difficult for him. Peas rolled off his fork onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law soon became very irritated with the mess.
 
"We must do something about dad," said his son. "I've really had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and all that food on the floor!"
 
So, the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.
 
Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year old watched it all in silence. One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?"
 
Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little wooden bowl for you and Mama to eat your food when I grow up and you grow old." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
 
The words so struck his parents that they were speechless. Then, tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That very evening, the husband took his dad's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
 
For the remainder of his days, he ate every meal with his family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, a plate broken, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
 
Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes every day, the building blocks are being laid for the child's future. Let's be wise builders and role models for our children, our grandchildren, our friends' children, etc.
 
Lord, we ask not that you move the mountains, but that You give us the strength to climb. Life is about people connecting with people, and making a positive difference.
 
Take care of yourself -- and those you love -- today -- and everyday!
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*** The Meeting ***

 

Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York's Grand Central Station. The tall young Army officer lifted his sunburned face and narrowed his eyes to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that choked him. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 18 months, the woman he had never seen yet whose words had sustained him unfailingly.

 

Lt. Blandford remembered one day in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes.

 

In one of those letters, he had confessed to her that often he felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer:"Of course you fear...all brave men do." Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of Death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me.'....He had remembered that and it renewed his strength.

 

He was going to hear her voice now. Four minutes to six.

 

A girl passed closer to him, and Lt. Blandford started. she was wearing a flower, but it was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was only about eighteen, and Hollis Maynel had told him she was 30. "What of it?" he had answered, "I'm 32." He was 29.

 

His mind went back to that book he had read in the training camp. "Of Human Bondage" it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's handwriting. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Maynell. He got a hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written , she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing. For thirteen months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.

 

But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained: "If your feeling for me had no reality, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I am beautiful. I'd always be haunted that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose that I'm plain, (and you must admit that this is more likely), then I'd always fear that you were only going on writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your own decision."

 

One minute to six...he flipped the pages of the book he held. Then Lt. Blandford's heart lept.

 

A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale-green suit, she was like springtime come alive.

 

He started toward her, forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provacative smile curved her lips.

 

"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured.

 

He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Maynell.

 

She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump. Her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.

 

Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, "so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own", and there she stood. He could see her pale face was gentle and sensible; her gray eyes had a warm twinkle.

 

Lt. Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of "Of Human Bondage" which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something special, a friendship for which he had been and must be ever grateful...

 

He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment.

 

"I'm Lt. Blandford, and you're Miss Maynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May--may I take you to dinner?"

 

The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you she's waiting for you in that restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test."

 

Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara

 

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