Chain Of Love
Author Unknown
Joe was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country road. Work, in this small mid-western community, was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac. But he never quit looking. Ever since the factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home.
It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the country.
He could go down this road blindfolded, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on.
You know, he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.
Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill that only fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help you ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm. By the way, my name is Joe."
Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk.
She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been alright with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Joe added "...and think of me".
He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor, it didn't ring much.
Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe.
After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes, when she read what the lady wrote. It said, "You don't owe me a thing, I've been there too. Someone once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here's what you do. Don't let the chain of love end with you."
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be alright, I love you Joe."
Cross a Raging Water
by Philip Lopez
As I stand on the shore of the still blue water, I can only hear the trickle of the faintest stream.
Can only feel the breeze of the softest wind and only hear the song of the furthest lark. And yet I stand
on the shore, unsure of where to go...how to cross, what path leads me there? I do not know. I stand,
staring at the water, reflecting back to me in most perfect picture, myself, alone, solitary and afraid.
"Oh dear God" I say as I stand there alone, wondering where He has gone in this hour of need. But do I
hear an answer? Do I see a sign? No. But I know He cares. "Oh dear Lord, come to me please..." I ask,
standing there. But nothing, no sign..where could He have gone? Soon at my feet there is a rumble, the
clear blue water becomes a river, a flood, a torrent of water. I tremble for fear and step back. I can
not take my eyes from it, how will I ever cross it, how will I ever survive? The sound transfixes me,
the danger overcomes me and I feel helpless.
Then a voice calls, above all else I hear it echo to me...smooth, and clear, full of the kindest peace...
"My child...come to me." I look across the raging torrent...which now rages silently...with no sound,
and I see my God, standing on the other side. "Come to me" He beckons once again...I want so badly to go
and be in His arms, want so badly to feel his love and protection, but how do I get to that place.
"How Lord?" I ask...yelling as if to talk over the silence..."Come." I look at the water...it rages with
speed, crashes with thunder. "Come." I cry...afraid to try..but I know that's where I belong...so I step.
A step closer to the danger...a step closer to my Lord. He is there...waiting for me...there for me like
He said He would be, all I need do is go to Him. I step closer, the spray of the water touching my face.
"I love you Lord" I say...now on the shore. I step into the water, my will says go on...my body cries stop!
I go on...each step my feet finding solid ground...I am in the middle of the rage, standing. I look at
my feet...the water only coming up to my ankles...still raging. The stream is only a foot deep. I now
run..finding the courage to go on.
I am there..in His arms...sweet bliss comes across me..the Lord never left me, the Lord never left me.
He was there..."you see my child" he whispers "all you need do is find the courage to cross, I have given
you the power over these things..have made you bigger than them..that is part of your calling to me."
I stay...motionless in His arms...he is soft like the warm sun and my muscles relax...all pressure gone...
all trembles cease and I am at perfect peace with my God, my Father...my Protector. "Oh dear God" I say
"I love you my Father, I know you are there for me now...I know with you, I can overcome." We stand
there..for what is eternity..embracing..and never once, not for the shortest moment, do His arms loosen,
He steadfastly holds me, forever.
Crossroads
by Pat Worrell
My spirit and soul hover at the crossroads, waiting. We listen. Here you can hear all the way down through time and at times things roll back down the road from the future. Sometimes a flash of things to come illuminates the whole crossroads for days at a time. I have tried many different crossroads but this one is the best. Most of the other ones have bends in the road so you get echoes. Echoes are hard to listen to, so I prefer this one. The reason you can hear so well here is because the road to the past and future are absolutely straight. There may be others, I don't know, be sure and let me know if you find them.
I AM! thunders up from the past and the atmosphere shakes as the Words roll off into the future. Tornadoes and hurricanes tremble at the power in that voice. That makes me smile, trembling bullies, ha! Hours pass and serenity again settles on the crossroads.
Listen, do you hear? The sweetest voice and heavenly music drift by. That's David the psalmist once again pouring out his heart. Can a heart and soul weep? I tell you they can. Now listen carefully. Yes, that's right, the music is coming from the past and the future at the same time. Stereo you might say, or surround sound would be a better description. Now think about this, only our hearts and souls are out here, must be soul music.
The marching Words seem a little closer this 'morn don't they? I am sure of it, if you look at the time and seasons you will know for sure. Every now and then you see a few Words go on by, and if you look far enough up the road into the future you can see them waiting there. I have been observing this for a while now. If you look when we come back in a day or two, you can see that they are closer. The future and past both getting closer, one of those paradoxes I guess. There it is though for all the world to see, I wonder why the psychic's can't see that? Selective vision, I suspect.
One day I said, Father, where does the light come from here at the crossroads? Three days later riding whispers came this word ~Glory~. For three days the air was silent, vacant air, then that one word. The best things in life are worth waiting for, aren't they?
A spirit, a soul, crossroads, and whispered Glory. I often wonder why I am the only one here, there is plenty of room. Spirits and souls don't take up much room. It used to be said that everyone loves a parade and this is truly the grandest parade of all! I know that in the future many will come here to watch the future come to pass, so I guess I should be happy for the solitude. I do wonder though, what people do with their time. I would think that past and future would be very important to people, yet many spend so much time trying to forget, makes me wonder.
Watch this. Father, I need your love. Now wait. Isn't that exquisite? Surrounded by love, past, present, and future. It pulls and surrounds from every direction. Timeless, all consuming. Let me tell you a secret, you never have to ask because it's always here and it's always yours. All you have to do is accept it. Joy works the same way if you let it. You don't have to stir it up, or dance for it, or carry on, but you do have to accept it. "Just do it", as the world is so fond of saying.
Let me tell you the story of how I found this crossroads. In the past I wandered around aimlessly. I would say, Lord I don't know what you want me to do. You see I was expecting some grand plan and design with my every step laid out, my every pitfall seen, my every course of action clearly defined. Ha! What a loony I was. I wouldn't do the simple things that God told me to do. I thought they were too trivial. I would get a prompt in my spirit and I would wonder for days if it was God or me. Now tell me, would I tell myself to do something that I didn't want to do? Would the devil tell me to do something that would glorify God? If I am told to do something and it is in line with the Bible, what would the harm be of me doing it?
So I started obeying, the Father would say do this or that and I would, and in due time I came to be here. It has truly been a very interesting journey. Have I been lost along the way? Of course! I was lost last week as a matter of fact, but the important thing is that I am here now. So tell me did you know before now that the crossroads existed? No, no, no, I'm not talking about your personal crossroads, I'm talking about The Crossroads. The one where past, present, and future are laid out for you to see and hear if you are willing to take the time to wait on the Lord. Oh, you won't immediately have clarity of vision, get rid of that notion right now. I will tell you this though, if you take the time you will know a lot more than you know now. You will see more and know more and some vital things that you need to know will be there when you need them. You will just know, it is one of the best feelings you will ever have, knowing what to do.
So what do you have to lose but uncertainty? Take the time that you spend worrying and come out to the crossroads and wait on the Lord. Here are some things you will discover. You probably don't have a clue how to wait. You have to let your mind roam and have free thought for far too long, but you can train it. Bring a journal with you and write down the things you hear. The more you write, the more you will hear. It just works that way, I don't know why. Judge everything you hear by the Bible. If you can't find it in the Bible, it is not from God. The Holy Spirit will teach you all things if you ask Him. Come and find me, we can listen together.
I tell you true that this world doesn't have long to live in it's present state, things are winding down. So the time to move is now, there is vital information that the Holy Spirit has that you need. You have listened to the world all your life, even your Christian life, and where has it taken you? The world has no answers, no solutions, no soul-utions either. Come on out and listen for a spell, watch, pray, but most of all get quiet before the Lord. Interesting things up and down the roads of future and past. This is a most amazing time to watch and wait, what a time and season to be alive! I'll keep an eye out for you, so will the Holy Spirit, just whisper if you need help. No need to shout, all of future and past can hear out here at the crossroads.
http://newjerusalemmusic.com/lenny/index.shtml
The young man was at the end of his rope. Seeing no way out, he dropped to
his knees in prayer. "Lord, I can't go on," he said. "I have too heavy a
cross to bear." The Lord replied, "My son, if you can't bear its weight,
just place your cross inside this room. Then, open that other door, and pick
out any cross you wish."
The man was filled with relief. "Thank you Lord," he sighed, and he did
as he was told. Upon entering the room, he saw many crosses, some so large
the tops were not visible. Then he spotted a tiny cross leaning against a
far wall. "I'd like that one, Lord," he whispered. The Lord replied "My son,
that is the cross you just brought in."
Death Without Warning
Della R Westerfield
Wednesday, October 7, 1987 - a day I shall never forget. My future and destiny would be altered without any warning. Death would come upon my family, uninvited and without invitation. This ugly, massive, black, cloud would hang over my home as it snatched away a life that was the very essence of my being.
I can remember that day quite vividly. It was a warm fall day, the sun was shinning, and my four children were outside playing. I was preparing dinner, my husband was on the road doing what he enjoyed the most, driving a big rig across the states. About five o'clock I received a call from him. He was in Houston, Texas and was headed to California. Michael was supposed to have returned home on Friday, but told me he wouldn't be back until Monday and no later than Tuesday. We were both disappointed in his change of plans, which we realized couldn't be helped. He told me to wire him some money on Friday, and he would call me Thursday to let me know where to send it. Our conversation was hasty, as he wanted to drive a few more hours before it got dark, and I was pre-occupied with the chicken in the oven that I had to take out, as well as the boiling pots of vegetables and rice that needed my immediate attention. As we talked, I continued staring at the stove with thoughts of my dinner burning if I didn't hurry up and attend to it. We both wanted the conversation to be as brief as possible. We told each other "I love you" and "I miss you", before we hung up.
I hastily put down the receiver, rushed into the kitchen to retrieve my chicken from the oven, as I let out a sigh of relief that it had not burned, but was a nice golden brown as its enticing aroma filled the house. I continued preparing my meal as usual, giving no long pondering thought to our hurried conversation, not knowing or realizing that that call would be our last time we would ever talk to each other.
Thursday October 8th, I never received a phone call from Michael. I assumed that maybe he would call later that evening, thinking that he probably wanted to get more hours of driving in before he stopped to rest for the night.
Friday, October 9, 1987, the kids were all in school except my youngest son who was only three years old. My other two sons were eleven and thirteen, my daughter was nine. At about 11:20 a.m., I was watching television with my mother, who had been living with us for a couple of months.
The door bell rang and I went to answer it. A man I had never seen before was standing on my porch with a weary expression on his face. He asked if I was Mrs. Westerfield. I replied "Yes". Still unable to understand why this strange man wanted to know who I was, I thought that...perhaps he was a salesman. But as I stood there with the door open staring at this man, he spilled the words out of his mouth as quickly as one could drop a class of water onto the floor. With no warning or further hesitation to even ask if he could come inside, right there as I stood he told me my husband was killed in an accident at 5:30 a.m. that morning in Denning, New Mexico. My eyes were stretched as wide as saucers, as I heard those words ring loud in my ears. I ran out of his presents as I screamed for my mother, I left this man standing at my door. I was devastated. I could not believe that my husband, the man that I loved so dearly, who was my life, could possibly be dead. "NO!" I had cried in big gulps, my mother tried to comfort me but I found no comfort, I felt as though someone had just ripped my heart out with a dagger. My throat was dry, and I could feel my pulse racing, my head pounding loudly in pain. My heart beating boisterously as though it were a drum. I ran through the house frantically, crying "God don't let this be true; please let it be a mistake." But it wasn't, my beloved husband had died a terrible death, and right then life meant nothing to me, for I too had wanted to die.
Michael had come into my life when I needed to be loved. I was divorced from a previous marriage for almost two and a half years before I met him. He was a wonderful stepfather to my three older children, and he had never shown any partiality between them and the son I gave birth to for him. Who would ever think that I would fall in love with a Caucasian man. Don't get me wrong, I am by no means prejudiced. I have never dated or even entertained the idea of being in a relationship with someone outside my own race, but it happened. True love has no color; it's naked, unclothed, and free, waiting to make its haven a home within the hearts of those who want it. True love is true love, regardless of the color. Just as a rose, orchid, tulip and a daisy, are all flowers, regardless of their differences, a flower is a flower.
Michael and I had a beautiful marriage. He spent so much time with the children, we would go camping, fishing, and he played numerous sports activities with them. It had been the family I had always dreamed of having. God, If I had known that I would never hear his gentle masculine voice or hear his motorcycle with its engine roaring loudly as he rode into the garage, I wouldn't have cared if my dinner burned, and I know it wouldn't have mattered to him if he didn't drive anymore that day. We would have hung on to those last moments cherishing every second, telling each other with deep sincerity and feeling of the love we shared. Not saying that when we did say, "I Love You", we didn't mean it, we did. But I think sometimes husbands and wives use the words "I Love You" so carelessly, routinely or out of habit as actors in a play, and our closing line must always be "I Love You". You must agree that using those precious words in such a remote fashion, the feeling that it should bring simply can't, under those circumstances. It's like shouting "I love you" in the Grand Canyon, and the only response is your own voice echoing the words back to you. This is such an empty feeling, and yet we do this to the ones who mean so much.
I wish that I could have turned back the hands of time, if only for a moment, to show my husband how very much I loved him, but I can't. Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 3:1, to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die. Death is so hard to accept, I didn't want to accept it. I kept believing that my husband was going to come back to me, he wasn't dead, he was only asleep. I believed God was going to raise him up as He did Lazareth and so many others that I have read about in the bible, but it never happened. I couldn't understand why. "God, you can't do this to me, I love my husband dearly. It's not fair, it's just not fair." I would cry over and over again. "Please bring him back to me and the children, we need him so desperately." Not only did I lose a husband, but our children had lost a father. Our lives had been shattered, leaving us to hang on to the memories of happy times spent together with him. As painful as it is, we know that we shall never ever banish the memories of him from our minds, for he will always be in our hearts.
Grief is so indescribable; there were times when I wanted to be left alone, and there were times when I sorely needed someone to talk to. I cried endlessly while searching the yellow pages for a support group for young widows, but I found none. I then began calling several prayer lines that were opened at various churches, pleading for help. I so needed to be held, I needed the comfort of feeling secure and safe again, but I found no comfort. I became despondent, for hope I felt, was out of my reach.
Those first few months that I had gone through, were the hardest times in my entire life. I thought fate had played a cruel trick, taking away from me, what had belonged only to me. I would stay in my room for hours just sitting there, going through old photo albums of our family, crying what seemed like rivers of tears. I would occasionally put on a suit coat that was his favorite, wrapping myself up in it and lay on the floor weeping. I called out his name continuously, as I hugged tight a photo of him. I didn't spend quality time with my children. Oh, I cooked, clean and did all of my motherly responsibilities, but I did not spend time talking with them, asking how they felt. I wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The pain was too hard for me to bear alone. I was reminded of a scripture in the bible where it says, "God will not put no more on you than you can bear." "God, I think you slipped up on one, I can't bear this, God I can't." But no, God didn't slip up, I just didn't want to go through that pain. To think of how my children were suffering tore away at me like a mad, rabid dog. I didn't want to deal with it. My family and friends tried to help me go through that awful period, but I withdrew myself from them. I knew they meant well but I just wanted to be left alone. It's not that I didn't appreciate my family and friends, I did. But I felt so isolated from everyone. When death had taken the one who meant the world to me, my life became void. After we married, we became one; Matthew 19:5-6 says, (and said, for this cause shall a man leave father and mother and shall cleave to his wife and they twain shall be one flesh. Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh, what therefore god has joined together, let no man put asunder) .
A part of me died with him, and it hasn't been easy getting over the grief. There is no set time. Everyone has to deal with it at their own pace. After the death of a spouse, some can go on with their lives after a year, some in ten etc. It is sad to say that there are some who refuse to go on with their lives, because for them life has no more meaning; therefore they may end up taking their own lives. But we can't sit back with our hands folded in self pity, there is a big world out there. True enough, its not fun being in it alone, but I must realize that there is a reason why God had chosen to take my husband and not me. There is something I have yet to fulfill in my life. I must seek to find out what it is.
I was a young, thirty one year old widow, and I had to do something constructive with my life. But by no means did I get it into my head that if I would take up a hobby, go back to school or work towards my dream of becoming a published writer, that it would make me forget that my husband had died. Believe me, it won't. These are only substitutes to help keep one's mind occupied, and they cannot and will not replace the love of a spouse. To say that they can, is like saying you never have to drink water again just as long as you are drinking some kind of fluid. Hog wash! You cannot replace water, its needed for survival, and I cannot replace my husband's love by burying myself in work. I need to be loved again by a man God will give me. Paul wrote in I Timothy 5:14 (so I think it is better for these younger widows to marry again and have children, and take care of their own homes; then no one will be able to say anything against them.) I know that God does not want me to live alone and raise my children by myself. It gets hard sometimes, but I will wait patiently upon my God. Psalms 27:14 says await on the lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart; wait, I say, on the Lord) .
Two years have slowly gone by, and without Christ I would not have survived. There were times I questioned God, Why me, why did my husband have to die? I thought God was punishing me. My three sisters were all happily married and I couldn't understand why my marriage was shattered. One night as I lay in bed, a thought came to me, and I believe it was from the Lord. What if it had been my oldest sister's husband, could she have survived alone with her six children, or would she have had a nervous break down? I said, "God I thank you that it wasn't her husband." He then brought another thought to me, what if it was your middle sister's husband, would she have continued to serve Me with joy, or would there have been such a great anger and hostility that no one would have been able to reach her? Again I said, "God, I thank you that it wasn't her husband." Yet another thought as I lay in my bed crying, uncoiled itself from my mind as easily as unwinding thread from a spool. What if it was your baby sister's husband, would she have continued in the faith, or would she have separated herself from Me out of hurt, going from man to man searching for fulfillment? Again I cried, "God, I thank you that it wasn't her husband." I knew then that this was my trial I had to go through, my mountain I had to climb. Though the road was rough and I felt like I couldn't make it, Jesus was there. When I felt like giving up, Jesus said "NO, you can't give up, you can make it. Lean on Me and put your trust in Me." When I was all alone with no one to talk to, Jesus was yet there. When I felt like all hope for me to love and be loved again had vanished, Jesus reached down and wrapped his loving arms around me as he wiped away my tears. I must believe that I can make it and there awaits for me, a new love, a love I've never dreamed possible of having.
Almost eleven years has gone by, what I had feared the most was having to raise my children alone, without a father for them. But I wasn't alone, for Jesus was always there helping me to rear my children. My three older children have since graduated from high school. My two boys desire to preach the gospel, there is a calling on both of their lives. God will use them at His set time. My daughter is a junior in college at San Diego State University and my youngest son will be fourteen this month. I am still believing God for a husband, and I know without a doubt, it will happen. I am happy and content with serving my Lord with gladness, because without Him I am nothing.
To you who are blessed to have a husband or wife, don't take them for granted. Love them with every ounce of breath in your body. Appreciate them, say "I love you" from your hearts and not just from your lips. Do not cease or hinder the growth of love, but nourish it daily, keep it alive within your hearts. Love with understanding, give of yourself freely, for you are no longer your own, the twain has become one. Laugh and cry together, share your dreams and goals, become each other's best friend. Always keep God first in your lives. Do not allow the devil to destroy what God has given you; love is the most valuable key to our spiritual life, and it should be the most valuable asset to one's marriage. For when they are gone, we cannot bring them back. Love now without reservation, regardless of the problems you may encounter along the way, with Christ's help, you will be able to overcome them. For love is the most precious, powerful, and priceless gift you can ever give to each other.
Let me die my beloveth, for I am as the dust of the earth.
Why doeth thou cry out my name, for I hear
But I cannot come. Desire me not for I am no more.
I am without form, as the air that thou breatheth,
The wind that rock the trees, I am as a mist, a vapor
That thy cannot behold with thine eyes.
Seek not to hold me, for I am as stone, no longer
Can thou beloveth comfort thee. Dry up thine
Tears, for I am beneath the grave.
Savor no longer to keep this love a live.
For I am but the dust of the earth, a memory of the man I was.
OCTOBER 5-- Today my life began. My parents do not know it yet, I am as small as a seed of an apple, but it is I already. And I am to be a girl. I shall have blond hair and blue eyes. Just about everything is settled though, even the fact that I shall love flowers.
OCTOBER 19-- Some say that I am not a real person yet, that only my mother exists. But I am a real person, just as a small crumb of bread is yet truly bread. My mother is. And I am.
OCTOBER 23-- My mouth is just beginning to open now. Just think, in a year or so I shall be laughing and later talking. I know what my first word will be: MAMA.
OCTOBER 25-- My heart began to beat today all by itself. From now on it shall gently beat for the rest of my life without ever stopping to rest! And after many years it will tire. It will stop, and then I shall die.
NOVEMBER 2-- I am growing a bit every day. My arms and legs are beginning to take shape. But I have to wait a long time yet before those little legs will raise me to my mother's arms, before these little arms will be able to gather flowers and embrace my father.
NOVEMBER 12-- Tiny fingers are beginning to form on my hands. Funny how small They are! I'll be able to stroke my mother's hair with them.
NOVEMBER 20-- It wasn't until today that the doctor told mom that I am living here under her heart. Oh, how happy she must be! Are you happy, mom?
NOVEMBER 25-- My mom and dad are probably thinking about a name for me. But they don't even know that I am a little girl. I want to be called Kathy. I am getting so big already.
DECEMBER 10-- My hair is growing. It is smooth and bright and shiny. I wonder what kind of hair mom has.
DECEMBER 13-- I am just about able to see. It is dark around me. When mom brings me into the world it will be full of sunshine and flowers. But what I want more than anything is to see my mom. How do you look, mom?
DECEMBER 24-- I wonder if mom hears the whispering of my heart? Some children come into the world a little sick. But my heart is strong and healthy. It beats so evenly: tup-tup, tup-tup. You'll have a healthy little daughter, mom!
DECEMBER 28-- Today my mother killed me.
Dogwood Legend
author unknown
Many years ago, a dogwood tree grew on a hill outside Jerusalem. In those days, the dogwood tree was as tall and mighty as an oak, and this tree was the tallest of all the dogwoods, and extremely proud of its strength.
"Something wonderful is going to happen to me," it said to anyone who would listen. "I'll
probably become the mast that holds the big sail on a grand ship, or the main timber supporting a great house."
Unfortunately, the huge old dogwood was cut down to become the cross to which Jesus was nailed. The tree was horrified. All its dreams of glory were smashed, and it groaned in agony as two boards from its trunk were nailed together.
Jesus took pity on the tree, even as he carried it to Calvary. "You will never be put to such use again," he told it. "From this day on, your shape will change, even as will the world. You will become slender and sway easily with the breeze. And instead of acorns you will bear white flowers in the shape of a cross, with dark red bloodstains at the side of each petal to show the world how you have suffered. Last of all, the center of your flowers will be marked as though with a crown of thorns, to remind people forevermore that you and I spent our last moments together.
And so it was. And so it is.
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