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Histoires » Les messages - Page 3
arrow right Blessings Great and Small

Here in the Arizona desert where shades of browns, grays, blacks and muted greens at first appear to dominate the landscape, I live and expand my appreciation for God's canvas. Just today before day relinquished its light, on the horizon where the mountains loomed in the distance, God painted a sunset, its beauty taking my breathe away. Wispy, swept clouds, delicately brushed, completed the Master Piece; some things defy words, remaining in crevices of the mind, long after miracles have passed and moments acknowledged. I am reminded too of springtime when the mountains burst forth in the brightness of sunshine as they are enveloped by wild flowers that have been sprinkled there not by accident or by the hands of man but by God and His glory. Too, I marvel at the giant Saguaro Cactus that stands tall and proud and the ever yielding variety of colors from the Bougainvillea. Tasty fruit from the Pomegranate the orange and lemon trees linger on my pallet as I think of their contribution in feeding humanity. Today unlike so many yesterday's that have skipped by unnoticed, I paused to reflect on a gift so often unopened, by we who are given greatness beyond measure by God the giver of all gifts great and small. I stopped, accepting this wonder of wonders and asked that my eyes be opened to minute blessings sent to me daily. I want not to miss the smallest of blessings for in doing so in the future I may reflect back, seeing them as they truly are, my Biggest, Richest Blessings. Every landscape scattered across our nation, our world our universe is unique in and of it's own self; like each individual person we have our own gift and purpose, we have our own contributions. God has given to us that we might give back of ourselves and brighten the life of another. As I reached over and felt the warmth of my husband's hand, saw his eyes upon me and heard the words,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   81 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Build me a Temple

Build Me a temple that Holy and new, Build Me a temple to dwell in with you; Cleanse this new temple from all previous sin, Open the doors wide place My love within; Invite My Spirit to dwell in this place, Let Him come in to fill every space. This temple I need is not stone or brick, Not made of wood, canvas, or stick; The temple I want is the one I gave you, So long ago when you were brand new; The temple I ask is the body you wear, It's a temple you have that is always right there. So build Me your temple that Holy and new, Build Me a temple to dwell with you; Build Me a temple and you will see, That together forever we'll always be.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   81 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right The Winner

I was watching some little kids play soccer. These kids were only five or six years old, but they were playing a real game - - a serious game _ two teams, complete with coaches, uniforms, and parents. I didn't know any of them, so I was able to enjoy the game without the distraction of being anxious about winning or losing - I wished the parents and coaches could have done the same. The teams were pretty evenly matched. I will just call them Team One and Team Two. Nobody scored in the first period. The kids were hilarious. They were clumsy and terribly inefficient. They fell over their own feet, they stumbled over the ball, they kicked at the ball and missed it but they didn't seem to care. They were having fun. In the second quarter, the Team One coach pulled out what must have been his first team and put in the scrubs, except for his best player who now guarded the goal. The game took a dramatic turn. I guess winning is important even when you're five years old -- because the Team Two coach left his best players in, and the Team One scrubs were no match for them. Team Two swarmed around the little guy who was now the Team One goalie. He was an outstanding athlete, but he was no match for three or four who were also very good. Team Two began to score. The lone goalie gave it everything he had, recklessly throwing his body in front of incoming balls, trying valiantly to stop them. Team Two scored two goals in quick succession. It infuriated the young boy. He became a raging maniac -- shouting, running, diving. With all the stamina he could muster, he covered the boy who now had the ball, but that boy kicked it to another boy twenty feet away, and by the time he repositioned himself, it was too late -- they scored a third goal. I soon learned who the goalie's parents were. They were nice, decent-looking people. I could tell that his dad had just come from the office -- he still had his suit and tie on. They yelled encouragement to their son. I became totally absorbed, watching the boy on the field and his parents on the sidelines. After the third goal, the little kid changed. He could see it was no use; he couldn't stop them. He didn't quit, but he became quietly desperate futility was written all over him. His father changed too. He had been urging his son to try harder - yelling advice and encouragement. But then he changed. He became anxious. He tried to say that it was okay - to hang in there. He grieved for the pain his son was feeling. After the fourth goal, I knew what was going to happen. I've seen it before. The little boy needed help so badly, and there was no help to be had. He retrieved the ball from the net and handed to the referee - and then he cried. He just stood there while huge tears rolled down both cheeks. He went to his knees and put his fists to his eyes - and he cried the tears of the helpless and brokenhearted. When the boy went to his knees, I saw the father start onto the field. His wife clutched his arm and said,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   79 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Flowers on the Bus

We were a very motley crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 33 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb, we sat drowsily with our collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn bunch. One of the passengers was a small grey man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him. Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent. The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice:

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   78 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Surviving 81st Floor of World Trade Tower Two

September 11, 2001 (Tuesday) - For all victims of the terrorism tragedy in the United States of America. * A testimony of God's hand of protection amidst tragedy * by the Editors of Religion Today Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001, began like any other day for Bethel Assembly of God deacon and Sunday school superintendent Stanley Praimnath of Elmont, Long Island. He got up early, took a shower, prayed, got ready and headed for work. The drive was uneventful. The train ride was the same. Yet, this day he would see the hand of God spare his life.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   78 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Little Girl

There is a beautiful crystal castle it sits on a hill and watches the land The soul owner is a beautiful little girl She plays in the garden has everything she needs and lives in happiness One morning she looked into the mirror and saw a stranger It was a woman and she realised it was herself, all grown up In the background scenes of her future life flitted before her She looked deep into the woman's eyes and what she saw made her want to cry She had never seen or felt such pain The woman stared at her and could not understand why such a happy little girl would have reason to cry The little girl said

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   78 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Christian Bears

A minister was walking through the woods and came face to face with a huge bear. He fell down on his knees and prayed, "Father, please make this bear a Christian!" While he was praying he heard a big "Thud". He opened his eyes to see the bear right in front of him on his knees with his paws held together as if in prayer. The minister let out a sigh of relief, and then he heard the bear say,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   77 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right A Letter To Patrick

Dear Patrick, I was then an only child who had everything I could ever want. But even a pretty, spoiled and rich kid could get lonely once in a while so when Mom told me that she was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I imagined how wonderful you would be and how we'd always be together and how much you would look like me. So, when you were born, I looked at your tiny hands and feet and marveled at how beautiful you were. We took you home and I showed you proudly to my friends. They would touch you and sometimes pinch you, but you never reacted. When you were five months old, some things began to bother Mom. You seemed so unmoving and numb, and your cry sounded odd -- almost like a kitten's. So we brought you to many doctors. The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said you have the

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   77 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right The Winner

I was watching some little kids play soccer. These kids were only five or six years old, but they were playing a real game - - a serious game -- two teams, complete with coaches, uniforms, and parents. I didn't know any of them, so I was able to enjoy the game without the distraction of being anxious about winning or losing - I wished the parents and coaches could have done the same. The teams were pretty evenly matched. I will just call them Team One and Team Two. Nobody scored in the first period. The kids were hilarious. They were clumsy and terribly inefficient. They fell over their own feet, they stumbled over the ball, they kicked at the ball and missed it but they didn't seem to care. They were having fun. In the second quarter, the Team One coach pulled out what must have been his first team and put in the scrubs, except for his best player who now guarded the goal. The game took a dramatic turn. I guess winning is important even when you're five years old -- because the Team Two coach left his best players in, and the Team One scrubs were no match for them. Team Two swarmed around the little guy who was now the Team One goalie. He was an outstanding athlete, but he was no match for three or four who were also very good. Team Two began to score. The lone goalie gave it everything he had, recklessly throwing his body in front of incoming balls, trying valiantly to stop them. Team Two scored two goals in quick succession. It infuriated the young boy. He became a raging maniac -- shouting, running, diving. With all the stamina he could muster, he covered the boy who now had the ball, but that boy kicked it to another boy twenty feet away, and by the time he repositioned himself, it was too late -- they scored a third goal. I soon learned who the goalie's parents were. They were nice, decent-looking people. I could tell that his dad had just come from the office -- he still had his suit and tie on. They yelled encouragement to their son. I became totally absorbed, watching the boy on the field and his parents on the sidelines. After the third goal, the little kid changed. He could see it was no use; he couldn't stop them. He didn't quit, but he became quietly desperate futility was written all over him. His father changed too. He had been urging his son to try harder - yelling advice and encouragement. But then he changed. He became anxious. He tried to say that it was okay - to hang in there. He grieved for the pain his son was feeling. After the fourth goal, I knew what was going to happen. I've seen it before. The little boy needed help so badly, and there was no help to be had. He retrieved the ball from the net and handed to the referee - and then he cried. He just stood there while huge tears rolled down both cheeks. He went to his knees and put his fists to his eyes - and he cried the tears of the helpless and brokenhearted. When the boy went to his knees, I saw the father start onto the field. His wife clutched his arm and said,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   75 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right The Color Of Friendship

Once upon a time the colors of the world started to quarrel. All claimed that they were the best. The most important. The most useful. The favorite. Green said: "Clearly I am the most important. I am the sign of life and of hope. I was chosen for grass, trees and leaves. Without me, all animals would die. Look over the countryside and you will see that I am in the majority.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   74 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right The Burden

"Why was my burden so heavy?" I slammed the bedroom door and leaned against it. Is there no rest from this life? I wondered. I stumbled to my bed and dropped onto it, pressing my pillow around my ears to shut out the noise of my existence.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   74 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Just Do It

Author Elbert Hubbard told the story of an incident during the Spanish-American War. It was imperative that the president get a message to the leader of the insurgents. His name was Garcia and he was known to fighting somewhere in the mountains of Cuba, but no mail or telegraph could reach him. Someone said,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   73 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Always There

Hello God, I called tonight To talk a little while I need a friend who'll listen To my anxiety and trial. You see, I can't quite make it Through a day just on my own... I need your love to guide me, So I'll never feel alone. I want to ask you please to keep, My family safe and sound. Come and fill their lives with confidence For whatever fate they're bound. Give me faith, dear God, to face Each hour throughout the day, And not to worry over things I can't change in any way. I thank you God, for being home And listening to my call, For giving me such good advice When I stumble and fall. Your number, God, is the only one That answers every time. I never get a busy signal, Never had to pay a dime. So thank you, God, for listening To my troubles and my sorrow. Good night, God, I love You, too, And I'll call again tomorrow!

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   73 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right An Angel

An Angel wrote: Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart. To handle yourself, use your head; To handle others, use your heart. Anger is only one letter short of danger. If someone betrays you once, it's his fault; if he betrays you twice, it's your fault. Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people. God gives every bird it's food, but He does not throw it into it's nest. He who loses money, loses much; He who loses a friend, loses more; He who loses faith, loses all. Beautiful young people are acts of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art. Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself. The tongue weighs practically nothing, but so few people can hold it.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   73 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right The Cradle, a Christmas Story

They left their home, the new cradle still swinging from the rafters. Night after night the aroma of fresh-cut wood had filled the room as Joseph had patiently fashioned the tiny cradle, using the same chisel and saw he usually put down at dusk. Now Joseph wiped the tears from Mary's cheeks and shut the door behind them.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   73 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

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