title

"A Christmas Story"

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket.

Their father was gone.

The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.

Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.

Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds.

He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.

Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.

If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.

I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade dress, loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town.

No luck.

The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince who ever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job.

Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop.

It was called the Big Wheel.

An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.

She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning.

She paid 65 cents an hour, and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people.

I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night.

She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep

This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.

When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-- fully half of what I averaged every night.

As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage.

The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home.

One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires!

There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.

Had angels taken up residence in Indiana ? I wondered.

I made a deal with the local service station.

In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office.

I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.

I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough.

Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids.

I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning.

Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.

On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. There were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.

A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine.

The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up.

When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, to my amazement, my old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.

I quickly opened the driver's side door, crawled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box.

Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10!

I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans.

Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes.
There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items.

And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.

As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude.

And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop....

THE POWER OF PRAYER. I believe that God only gives three answers to prayer:

1. "Yes!"
2. "Not yet."
3. "I have something better in mind."

God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar.

You maybe going through a tough time right now but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that you cannot imagine. Never Give Up!

GOD'S YELLOW PAGES

This is TREMENDOUS and had to take some

real ingenuity to create.

It's a great reference.

Click on "GOD'S YELLOW PAGES" and see what I mean.

"The Heart"

"Tomorrow morning," the surgeon began,

"I'll open up your heart..."

"You'll find Jesus there," the boy interrupted.

The surgeon looked up, annoyed "I'll

cut your heart open," he continued,

to see how much damage has been done..."

"But when you open up my heart, you'll

find Jesus in there," said the boy.

The surgeon looked to the parents, who

sat quietly. "When I see how much

damage has been done, I'll sew your

heart and chest back up, and I'll plan

what to do next."

"But you'll find Jesus in my heart.

The Bible says He lives there. The

hymns all say He lives there. You'll

find Him in my heart."

The surgeon had had enough. "I'll tell

you what I'll find in your heart.

I'll find damaged muscle, low blood

supply, and weakened vessels.

And I'll find out if I can make you well."

"You'll find Jesus there too. He lives there."

The surgeon left.

The surgeon sat in his office, recording his

    notes from the surgery, "...damaged aorta, damaged

    pulmonary vein, widespread muscle degeneration.

    No hope for transplant, no hope for cure. Therapy:

painkillers and bed rest. Prognosis... "

here he paused, "death within one year."

He stopped the recorder, but there was

more to be said. "Why?" he asked aloud.

"Why did You do this? You've put him here;

You've put him in this pain; and

You've cursed him to an early death. Why?"

The Lord answered and said, "The boy,

My lamb, was not meant for your

flock for long, for he is a part of My

flock, and will forever be.

Here, in My flock, he will feel no pain, and

will be comforted as you cannot imagine.

His parents will one day join him here,

and they will know peace, and

My flock will continue to grow."

The surgeon's tears were hot, but his

anger was hotter. "You created that

boy, and You created that heart. He'll

be dead in months. Why?"

The Lord answered, "The boy, My lamb,

shall return to My flock, for he has

done his duty; I did not put My lamb

with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost lamb.

The surgeon wept.

Later, the surgeon sat beside the boy's bed; the boy's

parents sat across from him. The boy awoke and

whispered, "Did you cut open my heart?"

"Yes" said the surgeon.

"What did you find?" asked the boy.

"I found Jesus there," said the surgeon.

Author Unknown -

Live for Jesus in 2007

"John 3:16"

A little boy was selling newspapers on the corner,
the people were in and out of the cold.

The little boy was so cold that he wasn't trying to sell
many papers.

He walked up to a policeman and said, "Mister,
you wouldn't happen to know where a poor boy could
find a warm place to sleep tonight would you?

You see, I sleep in a box up around the corner there and
down the alley and it's awful cold in there for tonight.

Sure would be nice to have a warm place to stay."

The policeman looked down at the little boy and said, "You
go down the street to that big white house and you knock
on the door. When they come out the door you just say
John 3:16,and they will let you in."

So he did. He walked up the steps and knocked on the
door, and a lady answered. He looked up and said,
"John 3:16.

"The lady said, "Come on in, Son."

She took him in and she sat him down

in a split bottom rocker in front of a great big old fireplace,

and she went off.

The boy sat there for a while and thought to himself:
John 3:16...I don't understand it, but it sure makes
a cold boy warm.

Later she came back and asked him "Are you hungry?"

He said, "Well, just a little. I haven't eaten in a couple of
days, and I guess I could stand a little bit of food,"

The lady took him in the kitchen and sat him down to a table
full of wonderful food. He ate and ate until he couldn't eat
any more.

Then he thought to himself:
John 3:16...Boy, I sure don't understand it but it sure
makes a hungry boy full.

She took him upstairs to a bathroom to a huge bathtub
filled with warm water, and he sat there and soaked for a
while.

As he soaked, he thought to himself: John 3:16...
I sure don't understand it, but it sure makes a dirty boy
clean.

You know, I've not had a bath, a real

bath, in my whole life. The only bath I ever had was when

I stood in front of that big old fire hydrant as they flushed it out.

The lady came in and got him. She took him to a room,
tucked him into a big old feather bed, pulled the covers
up around his neck, kissed him goodnight and turned out
the lights.

As he lay in the darkness and looked out the
window at the snow coming down on that cold night,
he thought to himself: John 3:16...I don't understand it but
it sure makes a tired boy rested.

The next morning the lady came back up and took him
down again to that same big table full of food.

After he ate, she took him back to that same big old

split bottom rocker in front of the fireplace and

picked up a big old Bible.

She sat down in front of him and looked into his young face.
"Do you understand John 3:16?" she asked gently.

He replied, "No, Ma'am, I don't. The first time I ever heard it

was last night when the policeman told me to use it,"

She opened the Bible to John 3:16 and began to explain
to him about Jesus. Right there, in front of that big old fireplace,
he gave his heart and life to Jesus.

He sat there and thought: John 3:16 -- I don't understand it, but it sure
makes a lost boy feel safe.

You know, I have to confess I don't understand it either,
how God was willing to send His Son to die for me, and how
Jesus would agree to do such a thing.

I don't understand the agony of the Father and every angel in heaven as
they watched Jesus suffer and die.

I don't understand the intense love for ME that kept Jesus on the cross

till the end.

I don't understand it, but it sure does make life worth living.

John 3:16

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should
not perish, but have everlasting life."

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.

After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued.

"I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball.

Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?"

Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much- needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play.

The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're 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 in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt.

His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.

As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!"

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!"

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball.

The smallest guy on their team now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!"

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, "Shay, run home! Run home!"

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

"That day", said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world".

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

I believe that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the "natural order of things."

So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of God's love and mercy, or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them. May we be counted worthy of God's trust.

And may your day, be a "Shay Day".

When Opportunity Knocks

"Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all, especially to . . . the household of faith."
Galatians 6:10