Take The Son

Take the Son:


Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son,
shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the
world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection.
Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and many others adorned the
walls of their family estate. The widowed elderly man looked on with
satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The
son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with
pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world.
As winter approached, war engulfed their nation, and the young man left
to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, the elderly man
received a telegram that his beloved son was missing in action. The art
collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his
son again. Within days his fears were confirmed. The young man had died
while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic. Distraught and lonely, the
old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.
The joy of the season-a season that he and his son had so looked forward
to in the past-would visit his house no longer. On Christmas morning, a
knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the
door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his
son was not coming home. He opened the door and was greeted by a soldier
with a large package in his hand.
The soldier introduced himself to the old man by saying, "I was a friend
of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in
for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began to
talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told every one of his-and
his father's-love of fine art work. "I'm also an artist," said the
soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man began to unwrap
the package, paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son.
Though the world would never consider it a work of genius, the painting
featured the young man's face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the old man thanked the soldier, promising to
hang the portrait above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the
soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word,
the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars
worth of paintings. And then the old man sat in his chair and spent
Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given. During the days and weeks
that followed, the man learned that his son
had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his
caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach
him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief, as he
realized that, although his son was no longer with him, the boy's life
would live on because of those he had touched. The painting of his son
soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in
the priceless pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told
his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received. The following
spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art
world was in anticipation, since, with the old man's passing, and his only
son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to
the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on
Christmas Day, the way he had received his greatest gift.
The day finally arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered
to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings.
Dreams could be fulfilled this day; greatness could be achieved as some
could say," I have the greatest collection." The auction began with a
painting that was not on any museum list... It was the painting of the
old man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was
silent.
"Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Moments passed as no
one spoke. From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that
painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and get on to
the good ones." More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell
this one-first," replied the auctioneer. "Now who will take the son?"
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take $10 for the
painting? That's all I have. "Will anyone go higher?" called the
auctioneer. After more silence he said, "Going once, going twice...
Gone!" The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone shouted, "Now
we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was
over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Then someone spoke up and
asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a portrait
of some old man's son! What about all of the other paintings? There are
millions of dollars worth of art work here. We demand an explanation!"
The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the
father, whoever takes the son...gets it all."
Just as the art collectors discovered on that day...The message is still
the same...the love of the Father....a Father whose son gave his life
for others...And because of that Father's love...Whoever takes the Son
gets it all.


unknown

Stop To Salute On Memorial Day

Stop To Salute On Memorial Day

EAGLE BASE, Bosnia and Herzegovina -- It was raining "cats and dogs" and I was late for physical training.

Traffic was backed up at Fort Campbell, Ky., and was moving way too slowly. I was probably going to be late and I was growing more and more impatient.

The pace slowed almost to a standstill as I passed Memorial Grove, the site built to honor the soldiers who died in the Gander airplane crash, the worst redeployment accident in the history of the 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault).

Because it was close to Memorial Day, a small American flag had been placed in the ground next to each soldier's memorial plaque.

My concern at the time, however, was getting past the bottleneck, getting out of the rain and getting to PT on time.

All of a sudden, infuriatingly, just as the traffic was getting started again, the car in front of me stopped.

A soldier, a private of course, jumped out in the pouring rain and ran over toward the grove.

I couldn't believe it! This knucklehead was holding up everyone for who knows what kind of prank. Horns were honking.

I waited to see the butt-chewing that I wanted him to get for making me late.

He was getting soaked to the skin. His BDUs were plastered to his frame. I watched-as he ran up to one of the memorial plaques, picked up the small American flag that had fallen to the ground in the wind and the rain, and set it upright again.

Then, slowly, he came to attention, saluted, ran back to his car, and drove off.

I'll never forget that incident. That soldier, whose name I will never know, taught me more about duty, honor, and respect than a hundred books or a thousand lectures.

That simple salute -- that single act of honoring his fallen brother and his flag -- encapsulated all the Army values in one gesture for me. It said, "I will never forget. I will keep the faith. I will finish the mission. I am an American soldier."

I thank God for examples like that.

And on this Memorial Day, I will remember all those who paid the ultimate price for my freedom, and one private, soaked to the skin, who honored them.

~ Captain John Rasmussen ~



We come, not to mourn our dead soldiers, but to praise them. — Francis A. Walker






Dear Heavenly Father,


As we remember those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom, we think of how they have followed in the footsteps of your son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Please hold our service men and women in your strong arms. Cover them with your sheltering grace and presence as they stand in the gap for our protection.

We also remember the families of our troops, and ask for your unique blessings to fill their homes and your peace, provision and strength to fill their lives.

May the members of our armed forces be filled with courage to face each day and may they trust in the Lord's mighty power to accomplish each task. Let our military brothers and sisters feel our love and support.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

The Atheist Theology Student Who Was Found by God

The Atheist Theology Student Who Was Found by God





John Powell a professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the first day I first saw Tommy. My eyes and my mind both blinked. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders.

It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts; but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped.

I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange ... very strange. Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course. He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father-God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a slightly cynical tone: "Do you think I’ll ever find God?"

I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically.

"Oh," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then called out: "Tommy! I don’t think you’ll ever find him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!" He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line: "He will find you!" At least I thought it was clever. Later I heard that Tommy had graduated and I was duly grateful.

Then a sad report, I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out, he came to see me. When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted, and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe. "Tommy, I’ve thought about you so often. I hear you are sick!" I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks."

"Can you talk about it, Tom?"

"Sure, what would you like to know?"

"What’s it like to be only twenty-four and dying?"

"Well, it could be worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real ‘biggies’ in life."

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification God sends back into my life to educate me.)

But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, " is something you said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, ‘No!’ which surprised me. Then you said, ‘But he will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My "clever" line. He thought about that a lot!) But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, then I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven.

But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn’t really care ... about God, about an afterlife, or anything like that. "I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said: ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving. But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.’ "So I began with the hardest one: my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him."

"Dad". . .

"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.

"Dad, I would like to talk with you."

"Well, talk."

"I mean. .. It’s really important."

The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"

"Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that." Tom smiled at me and said with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him: "The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me.

And we talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me. "It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I was only sorry about one thing: that I had waited so long. Here I was just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to.

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, ‘C’mon, jump through.’ ‘C’mon, I’ll give you three days .. .three weeks.’ Apparently God does things in his own way and at his own hour. "But the important thing is that he was there. He found me.

You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know, the Apostle John said that. He said God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.’ Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell them."

"Oooh . . . I was ready for you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for your class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call." In a few days Tommy called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So we scheduled a date. However, he never made it.

He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed.

He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time. "I’m not going to make it to your class," he said.

"I know, Tom."

"Will you tell them for me? Will you . . . tell the whole world for me?"

"I will, Tom. I’ll tell them. I’ll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to hear this simple statement about love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven: "I told them, Tommy . ... ...as best I could."

A Helping Hand or Two

A Helping Hand or Two
Author: Ken Prather



About three years ago, after a long stay in a convalescent home due to a severe injury, I started an outreach program working with the elderly, disabled, and people with developmental disabilities. I primarily work as a counselor and am often called to work with people that are especially difficult to get through to. Many times, I see people after they reach rock bottom and try to work with them by simply offering unconditional love and compassion in an effort to show them self-worth, self-pride, and purpose. I try to make sure not to only give them love and compassion, but to show them that they too can give this love and compassion to others.

I received a call about three months ago from one of the nursing homes that I routinely visit, asking for assistance with a gentleman who recently arrived and who would not respond to anybody. Bill refused to talk to anyone, including his family, chaplain, doctors, and social worker. When I first visited him, I was told that the Bill's legs had just been amputated due to some major blood clots, and as far as he was concerned, his life was as good as over. Bill was a young man of 42 years and had always been very active in sports. In fact, he had especially been active in running and enjoyed competing in many marathons. The thought of never running again sent Bill into a whirlwind of hopeless despair.

When I first arrived to see Bill, he was a bit surprised. Even though he accepted my company, he was still very depressed and feeling sorry for himself. Our first conversation did not last long and I asked Bill if I could come back and see him the next day along with a friend of mine. He hesitantly agreed to see me again, but assured me that he would not like my friend.

The next day I returned to visit Bill with my friend Tom, a man whom I also met at a nursing home. Bill was sitting in a wheelchair looking even more bitter than the day before and greeted us with a depressing, "What do you want? You want to stare at a cripple or something?" Tom understood that his abrasive words came from fear and sadness, and explained that he came seeking assistance with writing a newsletter about sports trivia. Tom explained that he needed somebody to write for him and hoped Bill might be able to help. Bill looked at us with frustration and grunted, "what's the matter, your hands broke or something?" to which Tom replied, "as a matter of fact, I have no hands at all."

It was then with Tom's insistence that I proceeded to untie the straps behind his back, revealing the prosthetic limbs attached to his shoulders. Bill could only sit there and stare in disbelief with his eyes wide open, especially when I then proceeded to remove Tom's plastic prosthetic legs as well. You see, Tom had been born without limbs.

After about five minutes of silence and with an expression of awe on his face, Bill finally managed to say, "My God, I feel sorry for you," to which Tom quickly replied, "why should you feel sorry for me, I don't." Tom then went on explaining, "This is the way God wants me." Without warning, Bill started crying and apologized profusely to us for his behavior. Tom looked at him and said in a calm voice, "there's nothing to forgive, as long as you forgive yourself, that's all that matters."

Tom, Bill, and I spent three hours together that afternoon, and that one afternoon changed Bill's attitude forever. I am happy to report that today, Tom and Bill are writing that sports trivia newsletter together - Tom talks while Bill writes. As Bill told me recently, it was not Tom's disability that inspired him so greatly, but his attitude towards life and helping others.
__________________
LIFE IS GOD'S GIFT TO YOU
WHAT YOU DO WITH YOUR LIFE
IS YOUR GIFT TO GOD


J - Jesus first
O - Others next
Y - Yourself last

John 14:6


BY Ken Prather

The Homeless Man

The Homeless Man

It was a cold winter's day that Sunday. The parking lot to the church
was filling up quickly. I noticed as I got out of my car fellow church
members were whispering among themselves as they walked in the church.
As I got closer I saw a man leaned up against the wall outside the
church. He was almost laying down as if he was asleep. He had on a long
coat that was almost in shreds and no hat on his head
He wore shoes that looked 5 years old , or too small for his feet. with holes all over them, his toes stuck
out. I assumed this man was homeless, and asleep, so I walked on by
through the doors of the church.

We all fellow shipped for a few minutes, and someone brought up the man
laying outside. People snickered and gossiped but no one bothered to ask
him to come in, including me. A few moments later church began. We all
waited for the preacher to take his place and to give us the Word, when
the doors to the church opened.

In came the homeless man walking down the aisle with his head down.
People gasped and whispered and made faces. He made his way down the
aisle and up onto the pulpit where he took off his hat and coat. My
heart sank. There stood our preacher... he was the "homeless man". No
one said a word. The preacher took his Bible and laid it on his stand.
"Folks, I don't think I have to tell you what I am preaching about
today."
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Too often, things become our focus of worship. It is at that point
that material goods become our masters rather than our servants. You
must choose whom you will serve. Wit it be God or money?"


"Materialism has become the god of too many of us. The bible teaches
that preoccupation with material possessions is a form of idolatry and
God hates idolatry. The Bible declares, 'What shall it profit a man, if
he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul.'"


"If a person gets his attitude toward money straight, it will help
straighten out almost every other area of his life. The chief motive of
the selfish, unregenerate person is *get.* The chief motive of the
dedicated Christian should be *give*."


"The world's favorite verb is *get.* The verb of the Christian is
*give.* Self-interest is basic in modern society. But in God's kingdom
self-interest is not basic.....selflessness is."

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
unknown

LORD PROP US UP

LORD PROP US UP...

Every time I am asked to pray, I think of the old fellow who always prayed, 'Lord, prop us up on our leanin' side.' After hearing him pray that prayer many times, someone asked him why he prayed that prayer so fervently.

He answered, 'Well sir, you see, it's like this... I got an old barn out back. It's been there a long time; it's withstood a lot of weather; it's gone through a lot of storms, and it's stood for many years.

It's still standing. But one day I noticed it was leaning to one side a bit.

So I went and got some pine poles and propped it up on its leaning side so it wouldn't fall.

Then I got to thinking about that and how much I was like that old barn.. I've been around a long time..

I've withstood a lot of life's storms. I've withstood a lot of bad weather in life, I've withstood a lot of hard times, and I'm still standing too. But I find myself leaning to one side from time to time, so I like to ask the Lord to prop us up on our leaning side, 'cause I figure a lot of us get to leaning at times.

Sometimes we get to leaning toward anger, leaning toward bitterness leaning toward hatred, leaning toward cussing, leaning toward a lot of things that we shouldn't . So we need to pray, 'Lord, prop us up on our leaning side, so we will stand straight and tall again, to glorify the Lord.''


If you stare at this barn for a second you will see who will help us stand straight and tall again..Do You See HIM?


"In God we trust!"

A Message From God

A Message From God

There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. This was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup. They said, "May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke. "You don't understand," it said. "I haven't always been a teacup."

"There was a time when I was red and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, 'Let me alone,' but he only smiled, 'Not yet.'"

"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. 'Stop it! I'm getting dizzy!' I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet.'"

"Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I wondered why he wanted to burn me, and I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as He shook his head, 'Not yet.'"

"Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. 'There, that's better,' I said. And he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Stop it, stop it!' I cried. He only nodded, 'Not yet.'"

"Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the first one."

"This was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening nodding his head saying, 'Not yet.'"

"Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf. One hour later he handed me a mirror and said, 'Look at yourself.' And I did. I said, 'That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful.'"

"'I want you to remember, then,' he said, 'I know it hurts to be rolled and patted, but if I had left you alone, you'd have dried up.'"

"'I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked.'"

"'I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened; you would not have had any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive for very long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I first began with you.'"

God knows what He's doing (for all of us). He is the Potter, and we are His clay. He will mold us and make us, so that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing, and perfect will.

"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you can bear, but with that temptation will provide a way of escape, so that you may be able to endure." (1 Corinthians 10:13)

met in the stairwell

Met In The Stairwell

You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news, Sept. 11, 2001. Neither will I.

I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say "Good-bye." I held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace to say, "Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK ... I am ready to go." I was with his wife when he called as she fed breakfast to their children. I held her up as she tried to understand his words and as she realized he wasn't coming home that night.

I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a woman cried out to me for help. "I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!" I said. "Of course I will show you the way home-only believe on Me now."

I was at the base of the building with the Priest ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He heard my voice and answered.

I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers there. Comforting and assuring them that their Faith has saved them.

I was in Texas, Kansas, London. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me?

I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew every name - though they did NOT all know Me. Some met me for the first time on the 100th floor. Some sought me out in their last breath. Some couldn't hear me calling to them through the smoke and flames, "Come to Me ... this way ... take my hand." Sadly, some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me. But, I was there.

I did not place you in the Tower that day - However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me? September 11, 2001 was not the end of the journey for you. But someday your journey will end. And I will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are "ready to go." I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.

Love, God

by Stacey Randall

Goodbye Peace Letter

Good Bye Peace Letter

A sad story of a brave little boy coming to peace with God.

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 O.K.? When can I see him?"

The surgeon said, "I'm sorry, we did all we could."

Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer, doesn't GOD care anymore? GOD, where were you when my son needed you?"

The surgeon said, "One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes to let you spend time with your son's remains before it's transported to the university".

Sally asked that the nurse stay with her while she said good-bye to her son. Sally ran her fingers through his thick red curly hair.

The nurse said, "Would you like a lock of his hair?"

Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of his hair and put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.

Sally said, "It was Jimmy's idea to give his body to the University for study. He said it might help somebody else," and that is what he wanted.

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 to be able to spend one more day with his mother".

Sally said, "My Jimmy had a heart of Gold, always thinking of someone else and always wanting to help others if he could".

Sally walked out of the Children's Hospital for the last time now after spending most of the last 6 months there. She sat the bag with Jimmy's things in it on the seat beside of her in the car. The drive home was hard and it was even harder to go into an empty house.

She took the bag to Jimmy's room and started placing the model cars and things back in his room exactly where he always kept them.

She laid down across his bed and cried herself to sleep holding his pillow.

Sally woke up about midnight and laying beside of her on the bed, was a letter folded up.

She opened the letter, it said...

"I know your going to miss me, but don't think that I will ever forget you or stop loving you because I'm not around to say I LOVE YOU.

"I'll think of you every day mom and I'll love you even more each day.

"Some day we will see each other again.

"If you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, he can have my room and my old stuff to play with.

"If you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things as us boys do, so you will have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like.

"Don't be sad when you think about me, this is really a great 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 here.

"The angels are so friendly, I love to watch them fly. Jesus doesn't look like any of the pictures I saw of Him, but I knew it was Him as soon as I saw Him. Jesus 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. I told GOD that I wanted to write you a letter and tell you Good-bye and everything, but I knew that wasn't allowed.

"God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter with. I think Gabriel is the name of the angel that 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 about. Where was He when I needed him? God said, "The same place He was when Jesus was on the Cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.

Oh, by the way Mom, nobody else can see what is written on this paper but you. To everyone else, it looks like a blank piece of paper.

I have to give God His pen back now, he has some more names to write 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.

I almost forgot to let you know - Now 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 suffer the pain either, so He sent The Angel of Mercy to get me.

The Angel said I was Special Delivery!

Signed with love from: God and Jesus and Me.