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Histoires » Les messages - Page 8
arrow right The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features. save 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 endlessly 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

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   52 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Hospital Windows

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   51 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Shake It Off and Step Up

A parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer's well. The farmer heard the mule 'braying' -- or whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer felt sorry for the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together and told them what had happened and asked them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery. Initially, the old mule was hysterical! But as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back, a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back: he should shake it off and step up! This is what the old mule did, blow after blow.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   51 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Information Please

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was Information Please, and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anybody's number and the correct time. My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway - The telephone! Quickly I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. Information Please I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   51 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Atheism

To the disciples' delight the Master said he wanted a new shirt for his birthday. The finest cloth was bought. The village tailor came in to have the Master measured, and promised, by the will of God, to make the shirt within a week. A week went by and a disciple was dispatched to the tailor while the Master excitedly waited for his shirt. Said the tailor,

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   50 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right The Diploma

I was exhausted from working my two jobs over the weekend and was not looking forward to the graduation ceremony. I have been to many graduations and I know how boring they are for most people. To top everything off, my wife and I had our two kids under the age of three with us. Both of the kids were squirming and whining, and I knew it was going to be a long afternoon. Our sole comic relief came when my three-year-old patted and rubbed the head of a bald man we did not know in front of us. As the ceremony dragged on I kept thinking of all the places I would rather be, and made up my mind that I wasn't going to enjoy myself. It was your ordinary graduation ceremony: a hot, sweaty auditorium filled with people fanning themselves with their programs, listening to speech upon boring speech, and the endless calling of names as each matriculator walked across the stage to grab this piece of paper that symbolized his or her academic accomplishment. It was getting harder and harder to pay attention. Just as my attitude started to go sour, they began calling out the graduate's names. The classmates formed a single file line and made their way up towards the podium. That's when I caught my first close-up glimpse of Kim. She looked up at us and was trying in vain to hold back the tears. She was not doing a good job of it. Believe me, holding back emotions is not something that Kim does very well. There she was, standing in line, about to receive her diploma, and she was probably thinking about a number of things. Maybe her dad who passed away a few years ago and didn't get to see her reach her goal, or her grandmother, who also passed away recently, and who had always wanted to attend college, but her family didn't have the money... For me it was like something from a movie. You know, the dramatic slow motion scene where all the crowd noise grows quiet, and the camera slowly moves up on her face as the tears begin to fall. She was a good distance away from us, but to me it was as if she were standing in front of me. That simple act of looking up at those loved ones who had come to watch her graduate, and gently rubbing the tears of joy, accomplishment, and pride out of her eyes really got through to me. The selfishness in me melted away, and I realized why I was there and not somewhere else.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   50 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right "SHMILY"

My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more. They dragged

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   50 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right God's Message to Woman

When I created the heavens and the earth, I spoke them into being. When I created man, I formed him and breathed life into his nostrils. But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man because your nostrils are too delicate. I allowed a deep sleep to come over him so I could patiently and perfectly fashion you. Man was put to sleep so that he could not interfere with the creativity. From one bone I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects man's life. I chose the rib, which protects his heart and lungs and supports him, as you are meant to do. Around this one bone I shaped you. I modeled you. I created you perfectly and beautifully. Your characteristics are as the rib, strong yet delicate and fragile. You provide protection for the most delicate organ in man, his heart. His heart is the center of his being; his lungs hold the breath of life. The rib cage will allow itself to be broken before it will allow damage to the heart. Support man as the rib cage supports the body. You were not taken from his feet, to be under him, nor were you taken from his head, to be above him. You were taken from his side, to stand beside him and be held close to his side. You are my perfect angel. You are my beautiful little girl. You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence, and my eyes fill when I see the virtue in your heart. Your eyes -- don't change them. Your lips -- how lovely when they part in prayer. Your nose so perfect in form, your hands so gentle to touch. I've caressed your face in your deepest sleep; I've held your heart close to mine. Of all that lives and breathes, you are the most like me. Adam walked with me in the cool of the day and yet he was lonely. He could not see me or touch me. He could only feel me. So everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with me, I fashioned in you: my holiness, my strength, my purity, my love, my protection and support. You are special because you are the extension of me. Man represents my image -- woman, my emotions. Together, you represent the totality of God. So man --

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   50 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right A lot to Give

Who made this boy believe that he couldn't stand the test that as a human being he was different from the rest A father who told him "Son you've come out all wrong" Never would he fit in, nor would he belong Why does the little girl live all alone with her fears that daddy's next punch will leave her with more than tears

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   50 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Busy

Once upon a time a very strong woodcutter ask for a job in a timber merchant, and he got it. The paid was really good and so were the work conditions. For that reason, the woodcutter was determined to do his best. His boss gave him an axe and showed him the area where he was supposed to work. The first day, the woodcutter brought 18 trees

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   49 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Three Stringed Violin

On November 18th, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and so he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches. To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an awesome sight. He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play. By now, the audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs. They wait until he is ready to play. But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap - it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what that sound meant. There was no mistaking what he had to do. We figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage - to either find another violin or else find another string for this one. But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You could see him modulating, changing, re-composing the piece in his head. At one point, it sounded like he was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made before. When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done. He smiled, wiped the sweat from this brow, raised his bow to quiet us, and then he said - not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone -

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   49 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Barriers to God

The Master would insist that the final barrier to our attaining God was the word and concept "God." This so infuriated the local priest that he came in a huff to argue the matter out with the Master. "But surely the word 'God' can lead us to God?" said the priest.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   49 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right Abraham Lincoln Quote

The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   49 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right If Tomorrow Never Comes

If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep, I would tuck you in more tightly and pray The Lord, your soul to keep. If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more. If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise, I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day. If I knew it would be the last time I could spare an extra minute or two to stop and say

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   49 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

arrow right A Tug

In some circles it is not "politically correct" to be considered a "bloody" Christian who believes in eternal salvation, but I am guilty of believing that once saved, always saved. I have been cleansed by and washed in the blood of Jesus. Knowing this, gives me a peace of God and peace with God to pillow my head every night knowing that whether I go or whether I stay, I'm a winner either way. Because I don't deserve His salvation and did not do anything to earn it, sometimes, though, I wake up not feeling saved and wondering why God it would please God to bruise His Son for me. When I do, I am reminded of a young boy, an older man, and an out-of-sight kite. The story goes of a young boy flying a kite in the park one windy afternoon. The kite was so small and so high that an elderly man sitting on a bench watching him could not see the kite high in the heavens. After watching him a few minutes, he walked over asking the young boy what he was doing.

Bandu2 - Herit.gif  Catégorie: Histoires   »   49 Lectures   »   Date: 07/03/2010 21:44   »   Par: LAURA

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