German

[Roland]

Hello dear all,

this forum was recommended by Bettina who was user in my german forum.

Due to several problems I´m forced to close my german forum and I asked

Heather to start a german forum here. I´m a member of LDS since 30 years

and my youngest daughter was serving at temple square. Since two weeks

she is knocking doors in Michigan - Lansing - Kalamazoo.

Have a nice day

p.s. Here one of my short-stories of my zarahemla forum:

Take my Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had

everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often

sit together and admire the great works of art.

When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very

courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father

was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the

door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son

gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to

safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He

often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out

this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I

think your son would have wanted you to have this."

The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by

the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the

personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes

that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and

offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what

your son did for me. It's a gift."

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to

his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed

them any of the other great works he had collected.

The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his

paintings Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great

paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his

gavel. "We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid

for this picture?"

There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the

famous paintings. Skip this one."

But the auctioneer persisted. "Will somebody bid for this painting. Who will

start the bidding? $100, $200?"

Another voice angrily.. "We didn't come to see this painting. We came to

see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"

But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"

Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime

gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a

poor man, it was all he could afford.

"We have $10, who will bid $20?"

"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters."

"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.

They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"

A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the

collection!"

The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."

"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a

secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation

until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever

bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the

paintings.

The man who took the son gets everything!"

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the

auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?"

Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

[AngelLynn]

I think I am familar with Bettina. Does she spend a lot of time in Yahoo Answers? Because if she does than I am familar with her. And thank you for shareing such a beautiful story. I think I've heard it once before, but thank you for reposting it to my memory.

Anyway welcome to the forum.

Edited February 19, 2009 by AngelLynn

[Palerider]

welcome to the site.....:)

[Dr T]

I've read that somewhere before. I like that story. Thank u for that :)

[Roland]

So - If you liked it - here you have two other stories to enjoy.

Cowboy in Church

One Sunday morning an old cowboy entered a church just before services

were to begin. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean,

he wore jeans, a denim shirt and boots that were very worn and ragged.

In his hand he carried a worn out old hat and an equally worn out Bible.

The church he entered was in a very upscale and exclusive part of the city.

It was the largest and most beautiful church the old cowboy had ever seen.

The people of the congregation were all dressed with expensive clothes and

accessories. As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him.

No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all appalled at his

appearance and did not attempt to hide it. As the old cowboy was leaving

the church, the preacher approached him and asked the cowboy to do him

a favor.

"Before you come back in this church again, have a talk with God and ask

him what he thinks would be appropriate attire for worship."

The old cowboy assured the preacher he would.

The next Sunday, he showed back up for the services wearing the same

ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat. Once again he was completely shunned

and ignored.

The preacher approached the man and said, "I thought I asked you to speak

to God before you came back to our church. "I did," replied the old cowboy.

"If you spoke to God, what did he tell you the proper attire should be for

worshiping in here?" asked the preacher.

"Well, sir, God told me that He didn't have a clue what I should wear.

He said He'd never been in this church "

Crossing the river

Three men were hiking and unexpectedly came upon a large raging, violent

river. They needed to get to the other side, but had no idea of how to do so.

The first man prayed to God, saying, "Please God, give me the strength to

cross this river." Poof! God gave him big arms and strong legs, and he was

able to swim across the river in about two hours, after almost drowning a

couple of times.

Seeing this, the second man prayed to God, saying, "Please God, give me

the strength .... and the tools to cross this river." Poof! God gave him a

rowboat and he was able to row across the river in about an hour, after

almost capsizing the boat a couple of times.

The third man had seen how this worked out for the other two, so he also

prayed to God saying, "Please God, give me the strength and the tools and

the intelligence ... to cross this river."

And poof! God turned him into a woman. She looked at the map, hiked

upstream a couple of hundred yards, then walked across the bridge.

Edited February 20, 2009 by Roland

[Dr T]

hahahaha thank u :)

[Guest missingsomething]

Hey a girl from our ward just got home from serving on Temple Square!

[Guest missingsomething]

Oops.. Oh yea...

W E L C O M E

[skalenfehl]

Herzliche willkommen, Roland!

[Roland]

Thank you for your welcoming.

A candle´s but a simple thing

It starts with just a bit of string

Yet dipped and dipped with patient hand

It gathers wax upon the strand

Until complete and snowy white

It gives at last a lovely light

Life seems so like that bit of string

Each deed we do a simple thing

Yet day by day if on life´s strand

We work with patient heart and hand

It gathers joy makes dark days bright

and gives at last a lovely night

Edited February 21, 2009 by Roland

[Roland]

A man and his horse were riding along a road. The man was enjoying

the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He

remembered dying , and that the horse had been dead for many years.

He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of

the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, a tall arch

that glowed broke it in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he

saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl,

and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the horse rode toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a

man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out:

“Excuse me, where are we?” “This is heaven sir,” the man answered.

“Wow, would you happen to have some water?” the man asked. “Of

course, sir. Come right in and I´ll have some ice water brought right

up.” The man gestured, and the gate began to open. “Can my friend,”

gesturing toward his horse, “come in, too?” the traveller asked.

“I´m sorry, sir, but we don´t accept animals.”

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and

continued the way he had been going. After another long ride, and at

the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road, which led through a

farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.

As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree

and reading a book.

“Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure, there´s a pump over there.” The man pointed to a place

that couldn´t be seen from outside the gate. “Come on in.” “How about

my friend here?” the traveller gestured to the horse. “There should be

a bucket by the pump.”

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned

hand pump with a bucket beside it. The traveller filled the bowl and took

a long drink himself, and then he gave some to the horse. When they

were full, he and the horse walked back toward the man who was

standing by the tree waiting for them.

“What do you call this place?” the traveller asked. “This is heaven,” was

the answer. “Well, that´s confusing,” the traveller said. “The man down

the road said that was heaven, too.” “Oh, you mean the place with the

gold streets and pearly gates? Nope. That´s hell.”

“Doesn´t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?”

“No. I can see how you might think so, but we are just happy that

they screen out the folks who´ll leave their best friends behind.”

[Roland]

I asked God to take away my pride,

And God said, “No.”

He said it was not for Him to take away;

But for me to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped

child whole, And God said, “No.”

He said her spirit is whole,

her body is only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience;

And God said, “No.”

He said that patience is a by-product of

tribulation; It isn´t granted, it´s earned.

I asked God to give me happiness,

and god said, “No.”

He said He gives blessings,

Happiness is up to me.

I asked God to spare me pain,

And God said, “No.”

He said sufferings draw us apart from

worldly cares and brings us closer to Him.

I asked God to make my spirit grow,

And God said, “No.”

He said I must grow on my own,

But he will prune me to make me fruitful.

I asked God if He loves me?

And God said, “Yes.” He gave me His

only Son who died for me and I will be

in Heaven someday because I believe.

I asked God to help me love others as

much as He loves me,

And god said, “Ah, finally you have the idea.”

[Roland]

Two buddies Bob and Earl were two of the biggest baseball fans in America.

For their entire adult lives, Bob and Earl discussed baseball history in the

winter and they pored over every box score during the season. They went

to 60 games a year. They even agreed that whoever died first would try to

come back and tell the other if there was baseball in heaven.

One summer night, Bob passed away in his sleep after watching the Yankee

victory earlier in the evening. He died happy. A few nights later, his buddy

Earl awoke to the sound of Bob's voice from beyond.

"Bob is that you?" Earl asked. "Of course it me," Bob replied.

"This is unbelievable!" Earl exclaimed. "So tell me, is there

baseball in heaven?"

"Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you.

Which do you want to hear first?"

"Tell me the good news first."

"Well, the good news is that, yes, there is baseball in heaven, Earl."

"Oh, that is wonderful! So what could possibly be the bad news?"

"You're pitching tomorrow night."

[Roland]

Everyone longs to give themselves completely to someone.

To have a deep soul relationship with another.

To be loved exclusively and thoroughly.

But God says to his child:

No, not until you are satisfied,

full filled and content with being loved by me alone

with giving yourself totally and unreservedly to me

discovering that only in me your satisfaction to be found

will you be capable of the perfect human relationship that I have

planned for you. You will never be united with another until you

are united with me. Exclusive of anyone or anything else.

Exclusive of any other desires or longings.

I want you to stop planning, stop wishing and allow me

to give you the most thrilling plan existing joy that you cannot imagine.

I want you to have the best.

Please allow me to bring it to you.

You just keep watching me, expecting life is greatest things.

Keep experiencing the satisfaction of I AM.

Keep listening and learning the things I tell you.

You just wait, that is all. Do not be anxious, do not worry, do not look

around the things have or that I have given them.

You just keep looking at me, or you will miss

what I want to show you.

and then, when you are ready, I will surprise you with a love

far more wonderful than any you would dream of.

You see, until you are both ready

(I am working now to have both of you ready at the same time)

until you are both satisfied exclusively with me

and the life I prepared for you, you will not be able to experience

the love that exemplifies your relationship with me

and this is the perfect LOVE.

And child, I want you to have this wonderful love. I want you

to see in the flesh a picture of you relationship with me

and enjoy all things the everlasting union of heavy, perfection and

love that I offer you with me.

[begood2]

Welcome to the site! Thanks for sharing the stories!:)

[Roland]

Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion, shares a moving story

about a skinny young boy who loved football with all his heart.

Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But

being half the size of the other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all

the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever played.

This teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a

very special relationship. Even though the son was always on the bench,

his father was always in the stands cheering.

He never missed a game. This young man was still the smallest of the

class when he entered high school. His father continued to encourage him

but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he

didn't want to. But the young man loved football and decided to hang in

there. He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps

he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through high school he

never missed a practice nor a game but remained a bench-warmer all four

years.

His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of

encouragement for him. When the young man went to college, he decided

to try out for the football team as a "walk-on." Everyone was sure he

could never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he kept

him on the roster because he always puts his heart and soul to every

practice, and at the same time, provided the other members with the

spirit and hustle they badly needed.

The news that he had survived the cut thrilled him so much that he

rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his

excitement and was sent season tickets for all the college games.

This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four

years at college, but he never got to play in a game. It was the end of

his senior football season, and as he trotted onto the practice field

shortly before the big playoff game, the coach met him with a telegram.

The young man read the telegram and he became deathly silent. Swallowing

hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it all

right if I miss practice today?"

The coach put his arm gently around his shoulder and said, "Take the

rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game

on Saturday." Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well. In the

third quarter, when the team was ten points behind, a silent young man

quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear.

As he ran onto the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded

to see their faithful teammate back so soon.

"Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young

man.

The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his

worst player in this close playoff game. But the young man persisted,

and finally feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. "All right,"

he said. "You can go in."

Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could

not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before

was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He

ran, he passed, blocked, and tackled like a star. His team began to

triumph.

The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid

intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The

fans broke loose. His teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such

cheering you never heard.

Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and

left the locker room, the coach noticed that this young man was sitting

quietly in the corner all alone The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I

can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did

you do it?" He looked at the coach, with tears in his eyes, and said,

"Well, you knew my dad died, but did you know that my dad was blind?"

The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my

games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted

to show him I could do it!"

Like the athlete's father, God is always there cheering for us. Our

loving God is always reminding us to go on, offering us a

hand, knowing what is best, giving us what we need and not simply what

we want. God has never missed a single game. What a joy to know that

life is meaningful if lived for the Highest. Live for the Creator, who

is watching us in the game of life!

[Roland]

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;

forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some people may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough.

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

[Roland]

GOD EXISTS

This is a true story of something that happened just a few years ago in USC.

There was a professor of philosophy there who was a deeply committed atheist.

His primary goal for one required class was to spend the entire semester

attempting to prove that God couldn´t exist. His students were always afraid to

argue with him cause of his impeccable logic. For twenty years he had taught

his class and NO ONE had never had the courage to go against him. Sure,

some had argued in class at times, but no one had ever *really gone against

him* (you´ll see what I mean later). Nobody would go against him cause he

had a reputation.

At the end of every semester, on the last day, he would say to the class of

300 students, “If there is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!”

In twenty years, nobody ever stood up. They knew what he was going to

do next. He would say, “Cause everyone who believes in God is a fool.

If God existed, he could stop this piece of chalk from hitting the ground and

breaking. Such a simple task to prove he is God, and yet he can´t do it.”

And every year he would drop the chalk onto the tile floor of the classroom

and it could shatter into a hundred pieces. All of the students were convinced

that God couldn´t exist. Certainly, a number of Christians had slipped through,

but for 20 years they had been too afraid to stand up.

Well, a few years ago there was a freshman who happened to enrol in the

class. He was a Christian, and had heard the stories about this professor.

He had to take the class cause it was one of the required classes for his

major. And he was afraid. But for 3 months this semester, he prayed every

morning that he would have the courage to stand up no matter what the

professor said or what the class thought. Nothing they said or did could

ever shatter his faith, he hoped. Finally, the day came. The professor said,

“It there is anyone here who still believes in God, stand up!”

The professor, and the class of 300 people looked at him, shocked, as he

stood up at the back of the room. The professor shouted, “YOU FOOL!

If nothing I have said all semester has convinced you that God doesn´t exist,

then you are a fool! If God existed, he could keep this piece of chalk from

breaking when it hit the ground!” He proceeded and drop the chalk, but as

he did, it slipped out of his fingers, off his shirt cuff, onto the pleats of his

pants, down his leg, and off his shoe. And as it hit the ground, it simply

rolled away, UNBROKEN. The professor´s jaw dropped as he stared at the

chalk. He looked up at the young man and then ran out of the lecture hall.

The young man who had stood up proceeded to walk to the front of the

room and share his faith in Jesus for the next half hour. 300 students

stayed and listened as he told of God´s love for them and of his power

through Jesus.

Edited February 22, 2009 by Roland

[Maxel]

Welcome Roland!

[Dr T]

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered;

forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;

Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;

Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some people may be jealous;

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough.

Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;

It was never between you and them anyway.

thank u for that :)

[Roland]

Here an old story that I like very much.

I experienced that the most people don´t know this story.

Therefore I post it here. Unfortunately I didn´t see the movie yet.

Cipher in the Snow

A True Story (by Jean Mizer)

It started with tragedy on a biting cold February morning. I was driving behind

the Milford Corners bus as I did most snowy mornings on my way to school.

The bus veered and stopped short at the hotel, which it had no business doing,

and I was annoyed as I had to come to an unexpected stop. The boy lurched

out of the bus, reeled, stumbled, and collapsed on the snow bank at the curb.

The bus driver and I reached him at the same moment. The boy’s thin, hollow

face was white even against the snow.

"He's dead," the driver whispered.

It didn't register for a minute. I glanced quickly at the scared young faces staring

down at us from the school bus. "A doctor! Quick! I'll phone from the hotel . . ."

"No use, I tell you, he's dead." The driver looked down at the boy's still form.

"He never even said he felt bad," he muttered. "Just tapped me on the shoulder

and said, real quiet, 'I'm sorry. I have to get off at the hotel.' That's all. Polite

and apologizing like."

At school the giggling, shuffling morning noise quieted as news went down the

halls. I passed a huddle of girls. "Who was it? Who dropped dead on the way to

school?" I heard one of them half-whisper.

"Don't know his name. Some kid from Milford Corners," was the reply.

It was like that in the faculty room and the principal's office. "I'd appreciate your

going out to tell the parents," the principal told me. "They haven't a phone, and

anyway, somebody from the school should go there in person. I'll cover your

classes."

"Why me?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be better if you did it?"

"I didn't know the boy," the principal admitted levelly. "And in last year's

sophomore personalities column I noted that you were listed as his favorite

teacher."

I drove through the snow and cold down the bad canyon road to the Evans'

place and thought about the boy, Cliff Evans. His favorite teacher! I thought.

He hasn't spoken two words to me in two years! I could see him in my mind's

eye all right, sitting back there in the last seat in my afternoon literature class.

He came in the room by himself and left by himself. "Cliff Evans," I muttered

to myself, "a boy who never talked." I thought a minute. "A boy who never

smiled. I never saw him smile once."

The big ranch kitchen was clean and warm. I blurted out my news somehow.

Mrs. Evans reached blindly toward a chair. "He never said anything about bein'

ailing."

His stepfather snorted. "He ain't said nothin' about anything since I moved in

here."

Mrs. Evans pushed a pan to the back of the stove and began to untie her

apron. "Now hold on," her husband snapped. "I got to have breakfast before

I go to town. Nothin' we can do now, anyway. If Cliff hadn't been so dumb,

he'd have told us he didn't feel good."

After school I sat in the office and stared blankly at the records spread out

before me. I was to read the file and write the obituary for the school paper.

The almost bare sheets mocked the effort. Cliff Evans, white, never legally

adopted by stepfather, five young half-brothers and sisters. These meager

strands of information and the list of "D" grades were all the records had to

offer.

Cliff Evans had silently come in the school door in the mornings and gone out

the school door in the evenings, and that was all. He had never belonged to a

club. He had never played on a team. He had never held an office. As far as

I could tell, he had never done one happy, noisy kid thing. He had never been

anybody at all.

How do you go about making a boy into a zero? The grade-school records

showed me. The first and second grade teachers' annotations read, "Sweet,

shy child," "timid but eager." Then the third grade note had opened the

attack. Some teacher had written in a good, firm hand, "Cliff won't talk.

Uncooperative. Slow learner." The other academic sheep and followed with

"dull," "slow-witted," "low I.Q." They became correct. The boy's I.Q score in

the ninth grade was listed at 83. But his I.Q. in the third grade had been 106.

The score didn't go under 100 until the seventh grade. Even the shy, timid,

sweet children have resilience. It takes time to break them.

I stomped to the typewriter and wrote a savage report pointing out what

education had done to Cliff Evans. I slapped a copy on the principal's desk

and another in the sad, dog-eared file. I banged the typewriter and slammed

the file and crashed the door shut, but I didn't feel much better. A little boy

kept walking after me, a little boy with a peaked, pale face; a skinny body in

faded jeans; and big eyes that had looked and searched for a long time and

then had become veiled.

I could guess how many times he had been chosen last to play sides in a

game, how many whispered child conversations had excluded him, how

many times he hadn't been asked. I could see and hear the faces that said

over and over, "You're nothing, Cliff Evans."

A child is a believing creature. Cliff undoubtedly believed them. Suddenly it

seemed clear to me: When finally there was nothing left at all for Cliff Evans,

he collapsed on a snow bank and went away. The doctor might list "heart

failure" as the cause of death, but that wouldn't change my mind.

We couldn't find ten students in the school who had known Cliff well enough

to attend the funeral as his friends. So the student body officers and a

committee from the junior class went as a group to the church, being politely

sad. I attended the services with them, and sat through it with a lump of cold

lead in my chest and a big resolve growing through me.

I've never forgotten Cliff Evans nor that resolve. He has been my challenge

year after year, class after class. I look for veiled eyes or bodies scrounged

into a seat in an alien world. "Look, kids," I say silently. "I may not do

anything else for you this year, but not one of you is going to come out of

here as a nobody. I'll work or fight to the bitter end doing battle with society

and the school board, but I won't have one of you coming out of there

thinking himself a zero."

Most of the time -- not always, but most of the time -- I've succeeded.

Jean Mizer

[Roland]

There was a little crippled boy who ran a small newsstand in a crowded

railway station. He must have been about twelve years old. Every day

he would sell papers, candy, gum, and magazines to the thousands of

commuters passing through the terminal.

One night two men were rushing through the crowded station to catch

a train. One was fifteen or twenty yards in front of the other. it was

Christmas Eve. The train was scheduled to depart in a matter of minutes.

The first man turned a corner and in his haste to get home to a Christmas

cocktail party plowed right into the little crippled boy. He knocked the boy

off his stool. Candy, newspapers, and gum were scattered everywhere.

Without so much as stopping, he cursed the little fellow for being there and

rushed on to catch the train that would take him to celebrate Christmas in

a way he had chosen for himself.

It was only a matter of seconds before the second commuter arrived on

the scene. He stopped, knelt, and gently picked up the boy. After making

sure the child was unhurt, the man gathered up the scattered newspaper,

sweets, and magazines. Then he took out his wallet an d gave the boy a

five-dollar bill. “Son”, he said, “I think this will take care of what was lost

or soiled. Merry Christmas!”

Without waiting for a reply the commuter picked up his briefcase and

started to hurry away. As he did, the little crippled boy cupped his hands

together and called out: “Mister! Mister!” The man stopped as the boy asked,

“Are you Jesus Christ?”

By the look on the mans face, it was obvious the commuter was

embarrassed by the question. But he smiled and said “No, son, I am not

Jesus Christ, but I am trying hard to do what he would do if he were here.”

And that, my friend, is what it means to be a Christian, even on Christmas

Eve. It´ s a matter of impersonation.

[Roland]

DINNER AND A MOVIE

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to

dinner and a movie. She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves

you and would love to spend some time with you."

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who had been

a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my 3 children had made

it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. "What's

wrong, are you well?" she asked. My mother is the type of woman who suspects

that a late night call or surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

"I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you," I

responded. "Just the two of us." She thought about it for a moment, and then

said, "I would like that very much." That Friday after work, as I drove

over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I

noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in

the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the

dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She

smiled from a face that was as radiant as an Angel's. "I told my friends

that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said,

as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting."

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice

and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we

sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print.

Half way through the entrees, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there

staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. "It was I who used

to have to read the menu when you were small," she said.

"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favour." I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation -- nothing extraordinary

but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much

that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said,

"I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed.

"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very nice.

Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered. A few days later,

my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I

didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an

envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place where

mother and I had dined.

An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could

be there; but nevertheless I paid for two plates -- one for you and the other

for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me.

"I love you, son." At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in

time: "I love you," and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.

Nothing in life is more important than your family.

Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off

till "some other time." Somebody said it takes about 6 weeks to get back to

normal after you've had a baby . . . Somebody doesn't know that once

you're a mother, "normal" is history.

Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct . . Somebody

never took a 3-year-old shopping.

Somebody said being a mother is boring . . Somebody never rode in a

car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.

Somebody said good mothers never raise their voices . . . Somebody

never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball

through the neighbour's kitchen window.

Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother . . .

Somebody never helped a 4th grader with his math.

Somebody said you can't love the 5th child as much as you love the first . .

Somebody doesn't have 5 children.

Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-rearing

questions in the books . . . Somebody never had a child stuff beans up his

nose or in his ears.

Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labour and delivery. . .

Somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the 1st day of

kindergarten . . or on a plane headed for military boot camp.

Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand

tied behind her back . . . Somebody never organized 7 giggling Brownies

to sell cookies.

Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets married. .

Somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son- or daughter-in-law

to a mother's heartstrings.

Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home.

Somebody never had grandchildren.

Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to tell

her . . Somebody isn't a mother

(I don´t know where this story comes from)

[Roland]

The birth of a sister

My three and a half year old grandson was excited about the coming birth of

his new baby sister, Morgan. She made her appearance on Easter afternoon.

I went to the home of friends to bring him to the hospital to see his hours-old

sister. Connor was so excited, talking about his sister.

He ran down the hallway of the hospital and pushed on his mom's door. As

I walked, and he ran, into the room, we saw dad sitting on a chair, auntie

standing to the side, and mom and the beautiful new baby sitting in bed.

Connor had eyes only for his sister. He ran to the bed and stopped,

speechless. staring at his sister. Then he very quietly said,

"Oh Morgan, I´ve missed you."

[Maya]

Hi Roland I am having a finnish forum here ... or actually it is on Mormonismi I translated the forum in to finnish and Heather is helping when I need help. I am no internet forum guru..

My grandmother was from Leopzig and I really would need help in finding my family from her site from Germany... Füshel and Engelhart... Leipzig... where can I ask about them?

Ich kan nicht deutch gesprehen! Ich alles vergessen hast.

My todays language .. Norwegean tok away my Germany totally!

This is a great forum. I hope you get the german forum!

Roland you should make blogs out of these beautiful things you written here. Go in your profile and you find where and how... these are so good!

Edited March 6, 2009 by Maya