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Category: Stories

Stories

My Friend Jesus Christ

Let me tell you about My Friend in high places He’s there for me all day and night; Voluntarily on a twenty-four hour call. I bring him my joys; My cheerful moments and spectacular experiences, He smiles with me And reminds me these are his gifts to me. I bring him my troubles; My tattered life and shattered dreams, I bring him my fears; My many uncertainties and disquieting insecurities, He calmly assures me with His words of encouragement Reminding me that He’s in complete control. He died a cruel agonizing death for my sins, And rose again on that...

Stories

Let a Miracle Happen

“There’s a new student waiting in your room,” my principal announced, hurrying past me on the stairs. “Name’s Mary. I need to talk to you about her. Stop in the office later.” I nodded and glanced down at the packs of pink, red and white paper, and the jars of paste and boxes of scissors I held in my arms. “Fine,” I said. “I’ve just come from the supply room. We’re making valentine envelopes this morning. It’ll be a good way for her to get acquainted.” This was my third year of teaching fourth-graders, but I was already aware how...

Stories

A Late Bloomer

A cactus stood all alone in the desert, wondering why it was stuck in the middle of nowhere. “I do nothing but stand here all day,” it sighed. “What use am I? I’m the ugliest plant in the desert. My spines are thick and prickly, my leaves are rubbery and tough, my skin is thick and bumpy. I can’t offer shade or juicy fruit to any passing traveler. I don’t see that I’m any use at all.” All it did was stand in the sun day after day, growing taller and fatter. Its spines grew longer and its leaves tougher,...

Stories

Daddy’s Angels

I wasn’t paying attention at the time to the good example my father set. He wasn’t consciously “setting a good example” — he was just living life according to his values. It was the 1950s in a small Middle Georgia farm town. Our family owned a clothing store in the middle of the main business block downtown. Six days a week, 8am until 6pm (9pm on Saturday), my father presided over his business. And sometimes an angel would come to our store. I didn’t recognize those visitors as angels. Neither did my mother, who accepted my father’s decisions but referred...

Stories

The Gift of Life

The Gift of Life Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liza who was suffering from a disease and needed a blood transfusion from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, I’ll do...