Sunday, May 14, 2000

THE SILVER REFINERY

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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THE SILVER REFINERY


Some time ago, a few ladies met in a certain city to read the scriptures, and make them the subject of conversation.  While reading the third chapter of Malachi they came upon a remarkable expression in the third verse.  "And He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." Malachi 3:3.  

One lady's opinion was that it was intended to convey the view of the sanctifying influence of the grace of Christ.  Then she proposed to visit a silversmith and report to them what he said on the subject.  She went accordingly and without telling the object of her errand, begged to know the process of refining silver, which he fully described to her.  

"But Sir" she said, "do you sit while the work of refining is going on?"  Oh, yes madam," replied the silversmith; "I must sit with my eye steadily fixed on the furnace, for if the time necessary for refining be exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver will be injured."  The lady at once saw the beauty, and comfort too, of the expression, "He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." 

Christ sees it needful to put His children into a furnace; His eye is steadily intent on the work of purifying, and His wisdom and love are both engaged in the best manner for them.  Their trials do not come at random; "the very hairs of your head are all numbered." Matthew 10:30.  

As the lady was leaving the shop, the silversmith called her back, and said he had forgotten to mention that he only knows when the process of purifying is complete when he sees His own image reflected in the silver.


Author Unknown 



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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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Monday, May 8, 2000

The Sandpiper

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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The Sandpiper


by Robert Peterson

 

 She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.   I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me.  She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.  

  
"Hello," she said.  I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.  "I'm building," she said.  "I see that.  What is it?"  I asked, not really caring.  "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."   That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.  
  
A sandpiper glided by.  "That's a joy," the child said.  "It's a what?"  "It's a joy.  My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."  The bird went gliding down the beach.  Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on.  I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.  
  
"What's your name?"  She wouldn't give up.  "Robert," I answered.  "I'm Robert Peterson."  "Mine's Wendy... I'm six."  "Hi, Wendy."  She giggled.  "You're funny," she said.  In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.  Her musical giggle followed me.  "Come again, Mr. P," she called.  "We'll have another happy day."  

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother.  The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater.  I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.  The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me.  The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.  

"Hello, Mr. P," she said.  "Do you want to play?"  "What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.  "I don't know.  You say."  "How about charades?"  I asked sarcastically.  The tinkling laughter burst forth again.  "I don't know what that is."  "Then let's just walk."  

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.  "Where do you live?" I asked.  "Over there."  She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.  Strange, I thought, in winter.  "Where do you go to school?"  "I don't go to school.  Mommy says we're on vacation."  She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things.  When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.  Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.  

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic.  I was in no mood to even greet Wendy.  I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.  "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today."  She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.  "Why?" she asked.  I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?  
  
"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."  "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"  "Did it hurt?" she inquired.  "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.  "When she died?"  "Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself.  I strode off.  

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.  Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her; I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door.  A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door "Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson.  I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."  
  
  
"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in.  Wendy spoke of you so much.  I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you.  If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."  "Not at all -- she's a delightful child."  I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.  

"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson.  She had leukemia.  Maybe she didn't tell you."  Struck dumb, I groped for a chair.  I had to catch my breath.  "She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.  She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.  But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it.  Could you wait a moment while I look?"  

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman.  She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters.  Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird.  Underneath was carefully printed:

A sandpiper to bring you joy

  
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide.  I took Wendy's mother in my arms.  "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study.  Six words – one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.  

A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love.  


_____

NOTE (See Postscript below for the facts): This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson.  It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever.  It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.  The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.  

Life is so complicated; the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.  This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.  This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many and now I share it with you...  

May God bless everyone who receives this!  There are NO coincidences!  Everything that happens to us happens for a reason.  Never brush aside anyone as insignificant.  Who knows what they can teach us?  

_____  

I wish for you, a sandpiper.


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"There is no Robert Peterson. The actual author of the piece is Mary Sherman Hilbert. The full-length version of Hilbert’s story appeared in 1978 in a periodical produced by a religious order in Canada and was subsequently picked up by Reader’s Digest and offered in condensed form to its readership in 1980. In that shortened version, which went on to become the widely-forwarded piece now part of online culture, the beach walker is identified as Ruth Peterson and the child as Windy.

The Reader’s Digest version is prefaced by the following author’s statement, one anyone seriously weighing the question of “Is it true?” should pay close attention to:
Several years ago, a neighbor related to me an experience that had happened to her one winter on a beach in Washington State. The incident stuck in my mind and I took notes on what she said. Later, at a writer’s conference, the conversation came back to me, and I felt I had to set it down. Here is her story, as haunting to me now as when I first heard it.
It needs to be noted that although the sandpiper tale is written in the first person, its author was not the one who had the encounter with the child; she is merely repeating a story she heard years earlier."


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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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The Room - by Brian Moore

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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WARNING:  This story may be disturbing; as it may precipitate an examination of conscience.

The Room - by Brian Moore

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, his homework. Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.  The Moore's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him.”

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.  There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files.  They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.  But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.  As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked."  I opened it and began flipping through the cards.  I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.  

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalogue system for my life.  Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.  A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content.  Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."  The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at."  Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers."  Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered under My Breath at My Parents."  I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.  Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. 
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards?  But each card confirmed this truth.  Each was written in my own handwriting.  Each signed with my signature.  When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched," I realized the files grew to contain their contents.  The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file.  

I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.  When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body.  I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card.  I shuddered at its detailed content.  I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.  An almost animal rage broke on me.  One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards!  No one must ever see this room!  I have to destroy them!"  In insane frenzy I yanked the file out.  Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. 

But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card.  I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.  Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.  Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.  And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."  The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused.  

I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands.  I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep.  Sobs so deep that they hurt.  They started in my stomach and shook through me.  I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.  No one must ever, ever know of this room.  I must lock it up and hide the key.  But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

"No, please, not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus."  I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards.  I couldn't bear to watch His response.  And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.  He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.  Why did He have to read every one?  Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room.  He looked at me with pity in His eyes.  But this was a pity that didn't anger me.  I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.  He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things.  But He didn't say a word.  

He just cried with me.  Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.  Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.  "No!"  I shouted rushing to Him.  All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.  His name shouldn't be on these cards.  But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.  The name of Jesus covered mine.  It was written with His blood. Gently he took the card back.  He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.  I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.  He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."  I stood up, and He led me out of the room.  There was no lock on its door.  There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."- Phil. 4:13  "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."


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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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The Letter and the Visit

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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The Letter and the Visit

Ruth went to her mailbox and there was only one letter.  She picked it up and looked at it before opening, but then she looked at the envelope again.  There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address.  She read the letter:  “Dear Ruth: I'm going to be in your neighborhood Saturday afternoon and I would like to visit.  Love Always, Jesus.”  Her hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table. "Why would the Lord want to visit me? I'm nobody special.  I don't have anything to offer.”  With that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets.  "Oh my goodness,  I really don't have anything to offer.  I'll have to run down to the store and buy something for dinner.”  She reached for her purse and counted out its contents.  Five dollars and forty cents. "Well, I can get some bread and cold cuts, at least.”  She threw on her coat and hurried out the door.  A loaf of French bread, a half-pound of sliced turkey, and a carton of milk….  leaving Ruth with a grand total of twelve cents to last her until Monday.  Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her meager offerings tucked under her arm.  

"Hey lady, can you help us, lady?” Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans; she hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the alleyway.  A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags.  "Look lady, I ain't got a job, ya know, and my wife and I have been living out here on the street, and, well, now it's getting cold and we're getting kinda hungry and, well, if you could help us, lady, we'd really appreciate it.” Ruth looked at them both.  They were dirty, they smelled bad and frankly, she was certain that they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to. "Sir, I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman myself.  All I have is a few cold cuts and some bread, and I'm having an important guest for dinner tonight and I was planning on serving that to Him.”  "Yeah, well, okay lady, I understand.  Thanks anyway.” The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders, turned and he headed back into the alley.  

As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar twinge in her heart.  "Sir, wait!” The couple stopped and turned as she ran down the alley after them.  "Look, why don't you take this food.  I'll figure out something else to serve my guest.”  She handed the man her grocery bag.  "Thank you lady. Thank you very much!”  "Yes, thank you!”  It was the man's wife, and Ruth could see now that she was shivering.  "You know, I've got another coat at home.  Here, why don't you take this one.”  Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman's shoulders.  Then smiling, she turned and walked back to the street...  without her coat and with nothing to serve her guest.  "Thank you lady!  Thank you very much!”  

Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too.  The Lord was coming to visit and she didn't have anything to offer Him.  She fumbled through her purse for the door key.  But as she did, she noticed another envelope in her mailbox. "That's odd.  The mailman doesn't usually come twice in one day.”  She took the envelope out of the box and opened it.  “Dear Ruth: It was so good to see you again.  Thank you for the lovely meal.  And thank you, too, for the beautiful coat.  Love Always, Jesus.”  The air was still cold, but even without her coat, Ruth no longer noticed.  


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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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THE Prayer Wheel

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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THE Prayer Wheel

 

Here's what the wheel is all about.  This post shares a prayer that was originally sent by a friend. Now you have come across and discovered it here. You are invited to say a prayer for a friend or person in need of this prayer. As you send it, you will get the wheel turning anew. That's all you have to do. There is nothing attached. Prayer is so powerful. Just send this to other people and watch God's answer to prayer work in their lives as well as in your life. Of all the free gifts we may receive, Prayer is the very best one. There are no costs, but wonderful rewards. Let's continue praying for one another.

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Dear                         , 

P
lease accept this prayer and "prayer wheel" from my love, Your Friend ___________

Here's what the wheel is all about.  When you receive this, you are invited to say a prayer for the person who sent it to you. That's all you have to do. There is nothing attached. Prayer is so powerful. Then you can also send this to other people and watch God's answer to prayer work in their lives as well as in your life. Of all the free gifts we may receive, Prayer is the very best one. There are no costs, but wonderful rewards. Let's continue praying for one another.


A Prayer

Father, I ask you to bless my friends reading this right now.  I am asking You to minister to their spirit at this very moment.  Where there is pain, give them Your peace and mercy.  Where there is self-doubting, release a renewed confidence in Your ability to work through them.  Where there is tiredness, or exhaustion, I ask You to give them understanding, patience, and strength as they learn submission to your leading. 

Where there is spiritual stagnation, I ask You to renew them by revealing Your nearness, and by drawing them into greater intimacy with You.  Where there is fear, reveal Your love, and release to them Your courage. Where there is a sin blocking them, reveal it, and break its hold over my friend's life. 

Bless their finances, give them greater vision, and raise up leaders, and friends to support, and encourage them.  Give each of them discernment to recognize the evil forces around them, and reveal to them the power they have in You to defeat it.  

Above all else, Almighty God and Father, as Jesus revealed to us by his own example of prayer, You know best in your holy wisdom and divine will what is truly best for each and every human being. Ultimately, this is what we seek and ask in this prayer.  We ask You for all this in Jesus' name.

Please accept this prayer and "prayer wheel" from my love, Your Friend


Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both. 
Passing this on to one not considered a friend is something Christ would do.


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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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The Other Terrorists

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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The Other Terrorists

Program Excerpt – Comments by Mother Angelica

I wanted to share with you some thoughts I've had about the problems we have in this country, the war, but what kind of war is it? There's no place to go, nothing that you can think to do that would be right, even though justice is necessary.  I'd like to talk to you tonight about other terrorists. 

Let's take social terrorists - in our country. The kind of terrorists that go into schools and spread drugs. The kind of terrorists that kidnap little children and make them prostitutes and what was always known as white slavery. The kind of terrorists in the entertainment world that put out on television in public, in Europe and all over the world, the worst, worst kind of movies, the most immoral movies. Those are social terrorists. You say, oh no Mother, they, oh yea.... look what they have done to this country, look what they have done to our youth. And what is a terrorist, I don't know what a definition is... someone who wants to destroy. 

We've had two beautiful buildings destroyed on our land.  And many innocent people. People who were blown to bits - just like the first 10, 20 years of abortion. Cut to pieces, thrown in garbage cans and eaten by cats. Same as now. Those are terrorists. I think they're the worst because they destroy innocence and life and populations. (Editor: They exploit women, often young women, who are suffering from terrible social pressures from the people around them, from whom they would expect understanding and support. Women generally would not want to kill what they know is alive in them. All of us who abandon our women to fend for ourselves bear heavier responsibility for this.)

Our population is nothing what it should have been. Millions that belonged to us are gone and to me, and, I might be way off beam, I just want to share my heart with you - all those millions and millions that are gone, they can't fight for us because they aren't there. Isn't that a terrorist thing? Isn't it terrorism to have Satan's music for our little ones to absorb and to begin to murder and kill. Isn't it terrorist to spread drugs everywhere, to push prostitution and immorality among our youth, weaken their hearts, their souls, their minds? Isn't that terror?  

Then there's spiritual terror, the kind that makes you afraid to say a prayer in public, the kind that makes you hide your crucifixes and anything religious in your office. The kind that says you can't have a crib in public. That's a terrorist because, in your heart you want to love God. You want to praise God. You want to say thank you Jesus for coming to save us as a little child. Thank you Lord. People think that's a terrorism that's acceptable... but I don't think it is.   

Mr. President, I'm an old lady with a minor little stroke, or whatever it is and only one eye, but I can see - that this nation, great, mighty, a sleeping giant, that could bring the whole world to holiness, goodness, compassion, strength and hope, but I don't think, unless we tackle the terrorists in OUR country, we can expect God to protect and guide us.  

Mr. President, would you consider putting prayer back in the schools and letting us pray at social functions? I understand that you prayed at a football game or baseball game. Could we pray in restaurants and could we have reminders of the Lord God? Can we put a crib back on our lawns and not be afraid of being ridiculed? 

Mr. President, would you consider having prayer back in the schools? Would you consider taking that horrible law with permission to kill, to terrorize the innocent? I know some of you are mad at me right now. I figure in my condition I have nothing to lose. But would you consider, saying no more abortion is allowed in this country? Would you consider? (Editor: Let's work together to develop ways and means to support women who are surprised by a pregnancy. Better still, let's all work together to instruct our children and young people that sexual union is about giving life to babies and not just for fun. We need to form our children to have great respect for both girls and boys and at the approach of puberty to teach them about the wondrous mystery of life about to develop in them, and that's it's part of God's plan for marriage and family for our life and happiness. This is the way to peace.)

Mr. President, I thought your speech was wonderful. I don't play Democrat or Republican. I don't play anything in politics. I think, in general, politics stinks, but, you gotta vote for somebody. I was proud of you the other day. You were strong and you did put God in. But you see, you can't have two opposite things. You can't allow such terrorists in our country. 

I know, I know what some of you out there are thinking, "Well you have your nerve, you're trying to tell us what to do". No, I don't care what you do. If you don't want to pray, don't pray. I believe in freedom of religion. I also believe in God and this country is no longer free. 

See, if you're not free Mr. President, you can't make others free. You can't give what we don't possess.  If we offend God by pornography and allowing pornography, by drugs, by not enough care and supervision, by television that's absolutely rotten, disgraceful, immoral, and allowing innocent children, they feel, those kids feel whatever it is. 

In the old days they used to have salt saline abortion. They'd burn the little children. As long as that's a law, it cannot be pleasing to God.  We can't keep offending God there, then ask for his blessing here. It's not going to work. Most of you might say, mind your own business and talk spiritual things. I think I am, talking about deeply spiritual things.  

And all of you that have been so hidden and hurt because of the way these over 6,000 people died, cruel, without love, without anything. What about those little kids. They had no place to run. They had no place to go. (Editor: Over 57 million babies have been aborted in the U.S.A. since 1973.)You see, I don't want to be depressing tonight. I love you. 

I love you Mr. President. You may never hear this talk. I hope the spirit, in one of your prayer groups, whispers in your ear because I think some drastic anti-terrorism has to be done in this country - to make us free - to make us filled with trust in God. Then, then you can do the work that you have been given to do. And then the almighty God from on high will be with you, and with this country, and with the world.   

I love our president and our congress, because they've gotten together and they done everything America should do. They rose to the occasion. Just as with Pearl Harbor, the Japanese said they woke a sleeping giant, they did again (now). 

This time, we have a few hindrances. I'm only saying that if we're going to clear out or try to bring to justice terrorists we had better first look at home.... We must be brave and we must accept our penance. We must also change. We must pray, not only for those who died in those terrible, terrible attacks, but have we ever prayed for the children who were murdered, every day? Have we ever said Lord, I can't stop it but I pray they have a high degree of glory in your kingdom... Let us become a repenting nation and change.

(Editor: Gilles A. Surprenant)

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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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The Old Man Christmas Eve

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

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The Old Man Christmas Eve 

A Short Story by Anonymous

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go."
   "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead.
   "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to
Himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.
   "None for me," said the officer.   "Oh, yer gonna drink this.  Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt." The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."

George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."
   "Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said.   George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued.
  
"Yep,"  George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."


"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.

The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus"


Merry Christmas!!

This story is better than any greeting card.

 MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!



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In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from within - because the Holy Spirit is revealing our Creator to all who are willing to know the Lord and trust in Him. We can still help each other along the way; so may you be pleased to find here a variety of helps to the life of faith in God through Jesus Christ. G.S.

----------------------------------------------------------------

© 2006-2021 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal  QC
© 2006-2021 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
 

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Seminar / Workshop on God - "Introduction to Prayer" - Marriage Preparation Course "From This Day Forward" - Saturday, November 2nd, 2024 at St. John Fisher Parish - Marriage is a great adventure for LIFE! Workshop Seminar 08.3

In the "New Covenant" made by our Creator God with humanity, as reported in Jeremiah 31:31-34, every human being can know God from...