Chicken Soup

[HisDaughter]

Mr. Roth

author unknown

     An old man showed up at the back door of the house we were renting.
Opening the door a few cautious inches, we saw his eyes were glassy and his furrowed face glistened with silver stubble.  He clutched a wicker basket holding a few unappealing vegetables.  He bid us good morning and offered his produce for sale.  We were uneasy enough to make a quick purchase to alleviate both our pity and our fear.
     To our chagrin, he returned the next week, introducing hmself as Mr. Roth, the man who lived in the shack down the road.  As our fears subsided, we got close enough to realize that it wasn't alcohol, but cataracts, that marbleized his eyes.  On subsequent visits, he would shuffle in, wearing two mismatched right shoes, and pull out a harmonica.  With glazed eyes set on a futrue glory, he'd puff out old gospel tunes between conversations about vegtables and religion.
     On one visit, he exclaimed, "The Lord is so good!  I came out of my shack this morning and found a bag full of shoes and clothing on my porch."
     "That's wonderful, Mr. Roth," we said.  "We're happy for you."
     "You know what's even more wonderful?" he asked.  "Just yesterday I met some people that could use them."

[HisDaughter]

Are You God?

by Charles Swindoll

     Shortly after World War II came to a close, Europe began picking up the pieces.  Much of the Old Country had been ravaged by war and was in ruins.  Perhaps the saddest sight of all was that of little orphaned children starving in the streets of those war-torn cities.
     Early one chilly morning, an American soldier was making his way back to the barracks in London.  As he turned the corner in his jeep, he spotted a little lad with his nose pressed to the window of a pastry shop.  Inside, the cook was kneading dough for a fresh batch of doughnuts.  The hungry boy stared in silence, watching every move.  The soldier pulled his jeep to the curb, stopped, got out, and walked quietly over to where the little fellow was standing.  Through the steamed-up window he could see the mouth-watering morsels as they were being pulled from the oven, piping hot.  The boy salivated and released a slight groan as he watched the cook place them onto the glass enclosed counter ever so carefully.
     The soldier's heart went out to the nameless orphan as he stood beside him.
     "Son...would you like some of those?"
     The boy was startled.
     "Oh, yeah...I would!"
     The American stepped inside and bought a dozen, put them in a bag, and walked back to where the lad was standing in the foggy cold of the London morning.  He smiled, held out the bag, and said simply: "Here you are."
     As he turned to walk away, he felt a tug on his coat.  He looked back and heard the child ask quietly,  "Mister...are you God?"

[HisDaughter]

He Needed a Son

author unknown

     The nurse escorted a tired, anxious young man to the bedside of an elderly man.  "Your son is here," she whispered to the patient.  She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.  He was heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack and he dimy saw the young man standing outside the oxygen tent.
     He reached out his hand and the young man tightly wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing a message of encouragement.  The nurse brought a chair next to the bedside.  All through the night the young man sat holding the old man's hand and offering gently words of hope.  The dying man said nothing as he held tightly to his son.
     As dawn approached, the patient died.  The young man placed on the bed the lifeless hand he had been holding, then he went to notify the nurse.  While thenurse did what was necessary, the young man waited.  When she had finished her task, the nurse began to offer words of sympathy to the young man.  But he interrupted her.
     "Who was that man?" he asked.
     The startled nurse replied, "I thought he was your father."
     "No, he was not my father," he answered.  "I never saw him before in my life."
     "Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?" asked the nurse.
     He replied, "I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here.  When I realized he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, I knew how much he needed me."

[HisDaughter]

Beethoven's Gift

by Philip Yancey

     A story is told about Beethoven, a man not known for social grace.  Because of his deafness, he found conversation difficult and humiliating.  When he heard of the death of a friend's son, Beethoven hurried to the house, overcome with grief.  He had no words of comfort to offer.  But he saw a piano in the room.  For the next half hour he played the piano, pouring out his emotions in the most eloquent way he could.  When he finished playing, he left.  The friend later remarked that no one else's visit had meant so much.

I'm not so concerned you have fallen
but that you rise.

Abraham Lincoln

[HisDaughter]

Most Beautiful Heart

 



One day a young man was standing in the middle
of the town proclaiming that he had the most
beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large
crowd gathered and they all admired his heart
for it was perfect.
There was not a mark or a flaw in it.
Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most
beautiful heart they had ever seen.
The young man was very proud and boasted
more loudly about his beautiful heart.

 

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of
the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not
nearly as beautiful as mine."

The crowd and the young man looked at the
old man's heart. It was beating strongly,
but full of scars, it had places where pieces
had been removed and other pieces put in, but
they didn't fit quite right and there were
several jagged edges. In fact, in some places
there were deep gouges where whole pieces
were missing.



The people stared -- how can he say his heart
is more beautiful, they thought?
The young man looked at the old man's heart
and saw its state and laughed.

"You must be joking," he said.
"Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect
and yours is a mess of scars and tears."

"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect
looking but I would never trade with you.
You see, every scar represents a person to
whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece
of my heart and give it to them, and often
they give me a piece of their heart which fits
into the empty place in my heart, but because
the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges,
which I cherish, because they remind me of the
love we shared. "Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart
away, and the other person hasn't returned
a piece of his heart to me. These are the
empty gouges -- giving love is taking a chance.

Although these gouges are painful, they stay open,
reminding me of the love I have for these people too,
and I hope someday they may return and fill the
space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"



The young man stood silently with tears running
down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man,
reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart,
and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old
man with trembling hands



The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart
and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and
placed it in the wound in the young man's heart.
It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect
anymore but more beautiful than ever,
since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.
They embraced and walked away side by side.

[HisDaughter]

The Beautiful Color of Love

What color is God,
Asked the child with skin so fair
Is he white like me,
Does he have light hair

Is God dark like me,
Asked the child with skin of golden hue
Has he hair that's dark and curly,
Are his eyes black or blue

I think God is red like me,
The Indian boy is heard to say
He wears a crown of feathers,
And turns our nights to day

Each one of us knows that God is there,
In all the colors above
But be sure of this, the one color he is,
Is the beautiful color of love

So when your soul goes to Heaven,
When your life comes to its end
He will be waiting, and his hand to you
Will he extend

There will be no colors in Heaven,
Everyone will be the same.
You will only be judged by your earthly deeds,
Not your color or your name

So when your time comes,
And you see God in his Heaven above,
Then you will see the only color that counts,
The beautiful color of love.

Arnold (Sparky) Watts

[HisDaughter]

It Really Didn't Matter

     The young people at Shively Christian Church, led at the time by Youth Pastor Dave Stone, were fiercely competitive with their neighbor, Shively Baptist, in all things, especially softball.  They were also serious about their Christianity, faithfully attending the summer Bible camp led by the youth pastor.
     One week, the Bible lesson was about Jesus washing his disciples' feet, from John 13.  To make the servanthood lesson stick, Pastor Stone divided the kids into groups and told them to go out and find a practical way to be servants.
     "I want you to be Jesus in the city for the next two hours," he said.  "If Jesus were here, what would he do?  figure out how he would help people."
     Two hours later the kids reconvened in Pastor Stone's living room to report what they had done.
     One group had done two hours of yard work for an elderly man.  Another group bought ice cream treats and delivered them to several widows in the church.  A third group visited a church member in the hospital and gave him a card.  Another group went to a nursing home and sang Christman carols - yes, carols in the middle of August.  One elderly resident remarked that it was the warmest Christmas she could remember.
     But when the fifth group stood up and reported what they had done, everyone groaned.  This group had made its way to none other than their arch rival, Shively Baptist, where they had asked the pastor if he knew someone who needed help.  The pastor sent them to the home of an elderly woman who needed yard work done.  There, for two hours, they mowed grass, raked the yard and trimmed hedges.
     When they were getting ready to leave, the woman called the group together and thanked them for their hard work.  "I don't know how I could get along without you," she told them.  "You kids at Shively Baptist are always coming to my rescue."
     "Shively Baptist!" interrupted Pastor Stone.  "I sure hope you set her straight and told her you were from Shively Christian Church."
     "Why, no, we didn't," the kids said.  "We didn't think it mattered."

by Charles W. Colson

[HisDaughter]

Choosing a Good Minister

Dear Abby:

     One of the toughest tasks a church faces is choosing a good minister.  A member of an official board undergoing this painful process finally lost patience.  He's just witnessed the pastoral relations committee reject applicant after applicant for some minor fault...real or imagined.  It was time for a bit of soul searching on the part of the committee.  So he stood up and read this letter purported to be from an applicant.

     "Gentlemen:  Understanding your pulpit is vacant, I should like to apply for the position.  I have many qualifications.  I've been a preacher with much success and also have had some successes as a writer.  Some say I'm a good organizer.  I've been a leader most places I've been.
     I'm over 50 years of age and have never preached in one place for more than three years.  In some places, I have left town after my work cause riots and disturbances.  I must admit I have been in jail three or four times, but not because of any real wrongdoing.
     My health is not too good, though I still accomplish a great deal.  The churches I have preached in have been small, though located in several large cities.
     I've not gotten along well with religious leaders in the towns where I have preached.  In fact, some have threatened me, and even attacked me physically.  I am not too good at keeping records.  I have been known to forget whom I have baptized.
     However, if you can use me, I promise to do my best for you."

     The board member turned to the committee and said, "Well, what do you think?  Shall we call him?"
     The good church folks were appalled!  Consider a sickly, troublemaking, absent-minded ex-jailbird?  Was the board member crazy?  Who signed the application?  Who had such colossal nerve?
     The board member eyed them all keenly before he replied, "It's signed, The Apostle Paul."

Author Unknown
from Dear Abby
Submitted by Jean Maier

[nChrist]

Hello GrammyLuv,

Sister Yvette, I've read this one about the Apostle Paul before and love it. In fact, I think that the Apostle Paul is one of the most fascinating characters in the Holy Bible. The term "Characters" makes this sound like a play or a novel, but the life of the Apostle Paul is quite REAL. Paul's life was one of great contrasts between what Paul called himself, "The chief of sinners", to a BORN AGAIN CHILD OF GOD given the Revelation of the Gospel of GOD'S Marvelous GRACE! We can relate to the Apostle Paul because all Christians have experienced the same dramatic change. Paul had a hard life with many trials, even after he was SAVED. Paul explains to us that GOD has not promised Christians an easy time in this short life, and we can take what Paul learned and apply it to our own lives. May GOD give us the courage, strength, and guidance to live a Bold Christian Life like the Apostle Paul did!

Love In Christ,
Tom

Ephesians 2:8-10 NASB  For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

[HisDaughter]

Thanks Brother Tom!  And good to hear from you!  Yeah, I've read it before too and then I came across it again today and since it was such a good one, I had to share.
Hope all is well with you and yours!
God Bless,
Yvette

[nChrist]

Hello Sister Yvette,

Things are going very well, and it's impossible to count all the blessings GOD has given my family and me. I've also been reading good things about you and your new work. I give thanks that you are happy and fulfilled in your work. Sister, what you are doing is an important ministry, and I pray that GOD will make your joy more and more full.

Sister, we should all look up several times every day and say, "THANK YOU LORD!"

Love In Christ,
Tom

 

[HisDaughter]

Sister, we should all look up several times every day and say, "THANK YOU LORD!"

Love In Christ,
Tom

Amen to that!

[HisDaughter]

Prayer Is the Key

     A missionary was serving as a medic at a small field hospital in Africa.  Periodically he had to ravel by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies.  It was a two-day trip so he had to camp out overnight.  He had made this trip several times without incident.  One day, however, he arrived at his destination and saw two men fighting.  One was seriously hurt, so he treated him and witnessed to him and went about his business.
     Upon arriving in the city again several weeks later, he was approached by the man he had treated earlier.  "I know you carry money and medicine", said the man to the missionary.  "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle the night you treated me, knowing you would camp overnight.  We waited for you to go to sleep and planned to kill you and take your money and drugs.  Just as we started moving into the campsite, we saw you were surrounded by 26 armed guards.  There were only six of us and we knew then we couldn't possibly get near you, so we left."
     Hearing this the missionary laughed and said, "That's impossible.  I can assure you I was alone in the campsite."
     The young man pressed his point: "No sir, I was not the only one to see the guards.  My friends also saw them, and we all counted them.  We were frightened.  It was because of those guards that we left you alone."
     Several months later, the missionary attended a church presentation in Michigan where he told about his experiences in Africa.  One of the congregants jumped to his feet, interrupting the missionary, and said something that left everyone in the church stunned.
     "We were there with you in spirit," said the man.  The missionary looked perplexed.  The man continued.  "On that night in Africa, it was morning here.  I stopped at the church to gather some materials for an out-of-town trip to another parish.  But as I put my bags into the trunk, I felt the Lord leading me to pray for you.  The urging was so great I called the men in the church together to pray for you."
     Then the man turned around and said, "Will all of those men who met with the Lord that morning please stand?"  One by one they stood---all 26 of them!

Anonymous

[HisDaughter]

A burglar was no match for a Florida marathon runner and karate black belt.

On Friday morning Margo Foster returned home from tennis practice to find an intruder rummaging through her bedroom, Florida's Sun-Sentenil reported Sunday.

Click here to read the full Sun-Sentenil report.

In an interview with the newspaper, Foster said without thinking twice she ran through the house and chased the surprised man out to the backyard, and didn't stop for seven-blocks.

Foster caught up with the intruder as he began to climb the 6-foot-high wooden fence in the yard. She said she "grabbed him by the neck, ripped him off the fence.. threw him to the ground, and put my knee to his chest," it was reported.

In her white tennis shirt, Foster struggled with the man only until the burglar dropped a bag filled with her property. After that, he took off running again, the report said.

"Go ahead and run," the former yacht detailer yelled at the retreating robber. "You're not going to get away from me. I've been running for 40 years."

Police eventually caught up with the man after Foster flagged down a motorist, who called police, the newspaper reported.


With all the "bad" news I just had to post this "feel good" story somewhere, so why not in Chicken Soup?   

[HisDaughter]

The Day Joe Hill Came to Stay

It is kindness in a person, not beauty, which wins our love.
Anonymous

     It was a day of pink azaleas and white dogwoods in April, 1935 and Willie Ann "Babe" Hill lay dying.  She needed to rest and couldn't.  She worried about what would become of her nephew Joe.
     this was the great Depression in Lincolnton, North Carolina, a town of 4.000 people in the segregated South, where everyone knew each other by face if not by name.  Joe Hill was 15 years old, retarded and black.  His Uncle Henry didn't have it in him to care for Joe and he knew of no one else to turn to in their community.
     So Henry Hill went to Marvin and Mattie Leatherman, who lived in a white neighborhood off Main Street and had helped him before.  Willie Ann used to clean the Leathermans' house and Joe sometimes mowed their lawn.
     Marvin Titus Leatherman- "M. T." to colleagues- was a lawyer who would reach into his pockets to pay court fees for poor clients and who counseled against divorce.  Mattie Leatherman was the neighborhood "angel of mercy," the mom who baked birthday cakes for the children of others, the neighbor who nursed the sick.
     Henry pleaded with them.  "Babe said she can't die until she finds somewhere to send Joe.  She doesn't want him sent off to some institution where he won't have somebody to look after him."
     Mattie reassured him.  "You tell her to go in peace to the Lord.  God has made a place for Joe, and he'll put him in it."
     The next day, there was a knock on the Leathermans' door.  Mattie peered past the sheer curtains and there stood Joe Hill.  Beside him, a rusty metal cot.
     Mattie hadn't meant she'd take him in.  Yet there he stood.  Marvin told his wife there was only one thing to do.  If they didn't take him in, Joe might die.
     They built a house out back, painted it white like the big house.  Barely 9 by 20 feet, it had room for everything he needed.  A bed, a dresser and a kerosene heater.
     It was Joe Hill's house, and he was proud.
     The Leathermans had one child of their own, Marguerite.  Though Joe was 10 years older, he and Marguerite grew up together, opening presents on Christmas, blowing out birthday candles, and going for sunday drives with the family.  Little Marguerite called her parents "Mama" and "Daddy" and Joe took to calling them that, too.  He was like a child, and they taught him by example and affirmation.
     Saturday nights, Marvin sat beside Joe and taught him the same Bible lessons he would teach the next morning at First Baptist Church.  The rules of Society might not let Joe through the church door, but Marvin was determinded he would not suffer because of it.
     Marvin tried to walk his life according to Matthew 25 -- "For I was hungry, and you gave me food; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in."
     they settled into a routine that lasted more than 45 years.  Promptly at 7:30 each weekday morning, Marvin strode off to his law office half a mile away.  Here was the dean of Lincoln County lawyers, the former county attorney and state senator, cutting a distinguished figure down Main Street.  Always a few paces behind, Joe Hill, struggling to keep up, smiling a big smile and flinging his right arm in greeting.
     "Hello, M.T.!"  neighbors called out.  "Hello Joe!"
     While Marvin worked in his second-floor law office, Joe went downstairs to Turner's clothing store or to the Western Auto.  He'd sit in a chair for hours, dozing off if he sat too long, getting up to help if something needed lifting.  As much as Marvin was fixture at the county courthouse, so was Joe on Main Street.
     One brisk morning in January 1981, Marvin walked to his office with Joe close at his heels.  Marvin set to work; Joe Hill began his rounds.  Marvin then went to the local diner for his usual hamburger and cottage cheese.  The waitress brought a cup of coffee.  A few minutes later, she turned back.  The cup was tipped over.  Marvin could not speak.  A stroke had silenced him.  Marvin was bedridden, but Joe kept up his rounds alone for months.
     One day when he got home from Clemons Barbershop on the evening of October 3, 1981, he opened the front door to find extra people in the house.
    "He's gone," said Marvin's daughter, Marguerite Reid.  Marvin had died from another stroke.
     Joe hid in the kitchen, confused and disoriented.  The next day, a neighbor found him sitting on the front steps, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot.
     "Daddy's gone," he said.  "What am I going to do?"
     The week after they buried Marvink, Joe moved into the big house with Mattie.  He fixed her breakfast in the mornings, iced tea in the afternoons, and fried chicken on Sundays.  She grew weaker with each passing year and the time finally came to move in with her daughter.
     "I can't manage both of them," Marguerite told her husband, Dr. Leary Reid.
     "Yes, we can," he said.  "God will walk us through it... Joe Hill is part of our family.  He has never known anything else.  We can't turn our backs on him now."
     They built him a little bedroom in their house, barely 8 feet by 10 feet.  It had room for everything he needed: a bed, a dresser and a bulletin board for family pictures.
     It was Joe's room, and he was happy.
     A year and a half later, on December 30, 1991, Mattie died quietly in her sleep.  she was 90 years old.  Joe, 72.
     "Mother's gone to be with Jesus," Marguerite told him.  "But don't you worry.  We'll take care of you."
     And they did.

Elizabeth Leland