Monday, November 26, 2012

The Box (Author Unknown)

The Box
Author Unknown (As printed in "No Greater Joy" December Issue)
A Classic Christmas Story
 
 
I remember a day one winter that stands out like a boulder in my life. The weather was bitter cold, our salary had not been regularly paid, and it didn't meet our needs when it was.  My husband was away much of the time traveling from one district to another.  Our boys were well, but my little Ruth was ill.  None of us had decent clothing.  I patched and re-patched, with my spirits sinking to their lowest ebb.  The water gave out in the well, and the wind blew through the cracks in the floor. The people in the parish were kind and generous too; but the settlement was new, and each family was struggling for itself. Little by little, at the time I needed it most, my faith began to waver.
 
Early in life I was taught to take God at His word, and I thought I had already learned my lesson well. I had lived upon His promises in dark times.  I knew like David in the Bible knew "my Fortress and Deliverer." Now a daily prayer for forgiveness was all that I could offer.
 
My husbands overcoat was hardly thick enough for October and he was often obliged to ride miles to attend some meeting or funeral.  Many times our breakfast was Indian cake and a cup of tea without sugar.  Christmas was coming; the children always expecting presents. I remember the ice was thick and smooth and the boys were each craving a pair of skates.  Ruth wanted the impossible.  A beautiful fancy doll. She insisted on praying for it!  I knew it seemed impossible, but oh! I wanted so very much to give the children the presents they longed for.  It seemed God had deserted us, but I did not tell my husband all this.  He worked so earnestly!  I thought he must be as hopeful as ever.  I kept the sitting room as cheerful as possible with an open fire.  I served our scanty meals as appealing as I could.
 
The morning before Christmas James was called in to see a sick man.  I put a piece of bread for his lunch and wrapped my plaid shawl around his neck.  I tried to whisper a promise as I often had, but the words died away upon my lips.  I let him go without it.
 
The day was dark and hopeless.  I coaxed the childen to bed early, for I couldn't bear to hear their talk.  When Ruth went to bed, I listened to her prayer.  She asked for the last time most explicitly for  her doll, and for the skates for her brothers.
 
Her bright face looked so lovely as she whispered to me, "You know I think they'll be here early tomorrow morning Mama."  I thought then that I would move heaven and earth to save her from the disappointment.  I sat down alone that night and gave way to the most bitter tears.
 
Before long James returned, chilled and exhausted. He took off his boots; the thin stockings slipped off with them and his feet were red with cold. 
 
"I wouldn't treat a dog this way, let alone a faithful servant!" I said bitterly.  Then I glanced up and saw the hard lines in his face and the look of despair, it flashed across to me---James had let go too.
 
I brought him a cup of tea, feeling sick and dizzy at the very thought.  He took my hand and we sat for an hour without a word.  I wanted to die and meet God and tell Him His promise wasn't true. My soul was so full of dispair.
 
Then there came a sound of bells, a quick stop and a loud knock at the door.  There stood Deacon White.

"A box came by express just before dark," he said.  "I brought it round as soon as I could get away. Reckon it might be for Christmas. 'At any rate,' I said, 'they shall have it tonight.' Here is a turkey my wife asked me to fetch along, and these other things I believe belong to you."
 
There was a basket of potatoes and a bag of flour. Talking all the time, he carried in a box, and then with a hearty goodnight he rode away. 
 
We opened the box. We immediately pulled out a thick red blanket. Underneath the blanket was a lot of clothing.  As we knelt by the opened box, our hearts broke with repentance for all the dark bitterness we had held onto.  At that moment it was as if Jesus stood before us.  Sweet promises of joy filled my soul. I became lost in praise and gratitude, I forgot everything else.
 
There were so many treasures in the box. An overcoat for James, a dress for me, fabric, and shoes.  As I tenderly pulled out the gloves for James a slip of paper fell to the floor. Written on the paper, "I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand saying unto thee, 'Fear not, I will help thee."
 
The box was wonderful! By this time, I could hardly see for all the tears flowing.  Then at the center of the box was another box.  Inside this box was a perfect china doll.  I burst into tears again.  It was too much. At the bottom of the box was two pairs of skates, books to read, yards of ribbon, needles, thread and an envelope with a ten dollar gold piece.
 
You should have seen the children the next morning! The boys were estatic at the sight of their skates. Ruth picked up her doll, and hugged it tightly without a word. Then she went into her room and knelt by her bed. When she returned, she whispered to me, "I knew it would be there Mama, but I wanted to thank God just the same, you know."
 
Hard times have come again and again, but we have trusted in God knowing that "They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing."
 


Monday, November 19, 2012

How to have a Happy Thanksgiving

How to have a Happy Thanksgiving 

It is said that thankful people are 25 percent happier than those who aren't thankful.  Living in a country where we are daily bombarded with materialism, it is easy to see what we think we need rather than what we have.  We cannot open our mailboxes, or turn on our computers without someone trying to convince us that we need something more.  A truly thankful heart is a content heart.  So this Thanksgiving Day when we sit around the table may we realize all of the blessings that God has given, and let us not forget to share our blessings with others.

How to have a Happy Thanksgiving:  (Note: Can be practiced everyday.)

1. When you open your eyes in the morning spend sometime thanking God for life, breath, and the new day.
2.  Forgive.
3.  Keep a thankful journal, each day write down what you are thankful for.
4.  Let go of worry. Give your burdens to God and leave them there.
5.  Help someone less fortunate.
6.  Sing!
7. Dance!
8.  Savor the moment, each one is a gift from God.
9.  Laugh!
10. Let go of the past and anything else you can't change.

"Godliness with contentment is great gain!"





Happy Thanksgiving!

Monday, November 12, 2012

The Little Pink Slippers by Lois Jones, Guest Writer

THE LITTLE PINK SLIPPERS
by Lois Jones

The school bus pulled into the circle in front of West Central Elementary. This had been my first year in my new school since we had recently moved. I was in third grade and my brother, Bobby, was in fourth. As we stepped off the bus, I saw some of my girl classmates and as usual they had their little carrying cases with them because it was Thursday. Every Thursday several little girls in my class had ballet classes after school. How I envied them; not so much for the dancing, but for the little pink ballet slippers they got to wear. I really wanted to have a pair of pink ballet slippers. I spent a lot of time at home curling my toes under and standing on the tops of my toes pretending I had ballet slippers on my feet.
Times were tough at home and there was no money for ballet shoes or lessons. However, that did not stop my intense longing. I felt a little out of place in third grade anyway because since I had started first grade at five years old I was now only seven and the smallest one in my class.  I dreaded to go to school on Thursdays because I knew the girls would have their lessons and I would have to hear about it all day long.
This Thursday proved to be different than all the rest. My school bus came thirty minutes after school which allowed me time to play under an oak tree on the playground. There were no girls to play with this day since they had gone to lessons or home. My brother was some distance away playing marbles with the boys. I was all alone under the tree. Suddenly I saw a small rectangular box sitting between the exposed roots of the tree. I removed the top and inside was a brand new pair of pink ballet slippers just my size. I knew they had not been left by any of the girls because they would not have fit since they were all bigger than I was. Even though I was only seven years old and had not been brought up in church, I knew God had sent them by an angel.  It gives God great pleasure to give good  gifts to his children. To this day, I am thankful and my poor toes are too.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Remembering Lucy Martin by J.Lyn Jones


Lucy Martin gripped the embroidery needle shakily with her left hand. The worn oak rocker gave a cocoon of comfort to her tired soul. A few months earlier she suffered from a stroke that caused her right hand to rest motionless in her lap. Her halo of gray white hair reflected the soft lamp light of the room. She gingerly reached into her sewing basket. With clumsy movement, she managed to pull out the baby blanket she had been embroidering. Stitch by stitch. Just a few more stitches and it would be complete. If only her right hand would work the way it had before the stroke. Every stitch was made with painstaking effort. Each thread sewn, a symbol of persevering love. Her eyes watered, it was just so difficult. She must complete it soon. The baby would be born any day now. The new mother would need a blanket for her infant daughter, to protect her from December's icy chill. She completed as many stitches as her left hand would allow, and placed her handiwork back in the basket. The daily ritual continued until the day arrived when the final stitch was knotted. The blanket was gently folded and wrapped. Finally, it was lovingly given.

The baby was me, 42 years ago. Lucy Martin, an elder sister in Christ, had a stroke which left her with many challenges. She loved a young couple, (my mom and my dad) and their baby. She showed her love with her gift. Stitch by stitch she persevered in spite of her disability. Many years have passed and Sis. Martin has gone on to her reward. She will be remembered for her selfless giving. We will never forget the dear lady who made the blanket, stitched with sacrifice and love. 

 
 

Psalm 46:1 KJV

"God is our refuge and strength a very present help in trouble."

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