STORIES & TALES

The Spirit of Christmas
Get out the tissues first...

I hurried into the local department store to grab a few last minute Christmas gifts. I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I wished that I could just sleep through Christmas but I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys, and wondered if the grandkids would even play with them.

I found myself in the doll aisle. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little boy about 5 holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered whom the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman and he called his aunt by name and said, "Are you sure I don’t have enough money?"

She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don’t have enough money for it." The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere that she had to go get some other things and would be back in a few minutes and then she left the aisle.

The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for. He said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa would bring it". I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it. He said, "No, Santa can't go where my sister is, I have to give the doll to my Mamma to take to her". I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "She has gone to be with Jesus. My Daddy says that Mamma is going to have to go be with her."

My heart nearly stopped beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, “I told my Daddy to tell Mamma not to go yet. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store." Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to. He pulled out some pictures he'd had taken at the front of the store. He said, "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she won't ever forget me. I love my Mamma so very much and I wish she did not have to leave me. But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister." I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown very quiet. While he was not looking, reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills. I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?" He grew excited and said, "Yes, I just know it has to be enough." So I slipped my money in with his and we began to count it. Of course it was plenty for the doll. He softly said, "Thank you, Jesus, for giving me enough money." Then the boy said, "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll so mamma can take it with her to give to my sister and he heard my prayer. I wanted to ask him for enough to buy my Mamma a white rose but I didn't ask him, but he gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Mamma. She loves white roses so very, very much." In a few minutes the aunt came back and I wheeled my cart away.

I could not keep from thinking about the little boy as I finished my shopping, and in a totally different spirit than when I had started. I kept remembering a story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier about a drunk driver hitting a car and killing a little girl and the Mother was in serious condition. The family was deciding on whether to remove the life support. Now surely this little boy did not belong with that story.

Two days later I read in the paper that the family had disconnected the life support and the young woman had died. I could not forget the little boy and just kept wondering if the two were somehow connected. Later that day, I could not help myself and I went out and bought some white roses and took them to the funeral home where the young mother was.

There she was, holding a lovely white rose, the beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store. I left there in tears, my life changed forever. The love that little boy had for his little sister and his mother was overwhelming, and in a split second a drunk driver had ripped the life of that little boy to pieces.

Thanx Dee

A Penny or a Cent (perhaps you'd better make that 5 cents)...
This is really a neat way to think of pennies laying on the ground! Remember this every time you pass that little penny in the parking lot. I always thought that it was for Good Luck, but I love this version better:

I found a penny today
Just laying on the ground.
But it's not just a penny,
this little coin I've found.
Found pennies come from heaven,
that's what my Grandpa told me.
He said Angels toss them down.
Oh, how I loved that story.
He said when an Angel misses you,
they toss a penny down.
Sometimes just to cheer you up,
to make a smile out of your frown.
So, don't pass by that penny,
when you're feeling blue.
It may be a penny from heaven,
That an angel has tossed to you.

I want to be a Bear
 

If you're a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that.

Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

If you're a bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you're sleeping and wake to partially grown, cute cuddly cubs. I could definitely deal with that.

If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you're a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup..... I wanna be a bear!

A Charlotte, NC, lawyer (this can only happen in America) purchased a box of very rare and expensive cigars, then insured them against fire among other things.

Within a month, having smoked his entire stockpile of these great cigars and without yet having made even his first premium payment on the policy, the lawyer filed a claim against the insurance company. In his claim, the lawyer stated the cigars were lost "in a series of small fires."

The insurance company refused to pay, citing the obvious reason: that the man had consumed the cigars in the normal fashion. The lawyer sued and won! In delivering the ruling the judge agreed with the insurance company that the claim was frivolous. The Judge stated nevertheless, that the lawyer held a policy from the company in which it had warranted that the cigars were insurable and also guaranteed that it would insure them against fire, without defining what is considered to be "unacceptable fire" and was obligated to pay the claim.

Rather than endure a lengthy and costly appeal process, the insurance company accepted the ruling and paid $15,000 to the lawyer for his loss of the rare cigars, lost in the "fires".

NOW FOR THE BEST PART ...................

After the lawyer cashed the cheque, the insurance company had him arrested on 24 counts of ARSON!!!! With his own insurance claim and testimony from the previous case being used against him, the lawyer was convicted of intentionally burning his insured property and was sentenced to 24 months in jail and a $24,000 fine.

This is a true story and was the 1st place winner in the recent Criminal Lawyers Award Contest.

The Water Boy

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain. in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The creeks and streams were long gone back into the earth. It was a dry season that would bankrupt several farmers before it was through.

Every day, my husband and his brothers would go about the arduous process of trying to get water to the fields. Lately this process had involved taking a truck to the local water rendering plant and filling it up with water. But severe rationing had cut everyone off. If we didn't see some rain soon...we would lose everything.

It was on this day that I learned the true lesson of sharing and witnessed the only miracle I have seen with my own eyes.

I was in the kitchen making lunch for my husband and his brothers when I saw my six-year old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. He wasn't walking with the usual carefree abandon of a youth but with a serious purpose. I could only see his back. He was obviously walking with a great effort...trying to be as still as possible.

Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house. I went back to making sandwiches; thinking that whatever task he had been doing was completed.

Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow purposeful stride toward the woods.

This activity went on for an hour: walk carefully to the woods, run back to the house. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey (being very careful not to be seen...as he was obviously doing important work and didn't need his Mommy checking up on him). He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked; being very careful not to spill the water he held in them...maybe two or three tablespoons were held in his tiny hands.

I sneaked close as he went into the woods. Branches and thorns slapped his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much higher purpose. As I leaned in to spy on him, I saw the most amazing site. Several large deer loomed in front of him.

Billy walked right up to them. I almost screamed for him to get away. A huge buck with elaborate antlers was dangerously close.

But the buck did not threaten him...he didn't even move as Billy knelt down. And I saw a tiny fawn laying on the ground, obviously suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, lift its head with great effort to lap up the water cupped in my beautiful boy's hand.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house and I hid behind a tree. I followed him back to the house; to a spigot that we had shut off the water to. Billy opened it all the way up and a small trickle began to creep out. He knelt there, letting the drip, drip slowly fill up his makeshift "cup," as the sun beat down on his little back.

And it came clear to me. The trouble he had gotten into for playing with the hose the week before. The lecture he had received about the importance of not wasting water. The reason he didn't ask me to help him.

It took almost twenty minutes for the drops to fill his hands. When he stood up and began the trek back, I was there in front of him. His little eyes just filled with tears. "I'm not wasting," was all he said.

As he began his walk, I joined him...with a small pot of water from the kitchen. I let him tend to the fawn. I stayed away. It was his job.

I stood on the edge of the woods watching the most beautiful heart I have ever known working so hard to save another life. As the tears that rolled down my face began to hit the ground, they were suddenly joined by other drops...and more drops...and more.........

I looked up at the sky. It was as if God, Himself, was weeping with pride.

Some will probably say that this was all just a huge coincidence. That miracles don't really exist. That it was bound to rain sometime. And I can't argue with that............I'm not going to try. All I can say is that the rain that came that day saved our farm...just like the actions of one little boy saved another.

This is not one of those crazy chain letters...if you don't forward it to anyone, nothing bad will happen to you. If you choose to forward it, you won't receive any riches in the mail. I don't know if anyone will read this...but I had to send it out. To honor the memory of my beautiful Billy, who was taken from me much too soon.... But not before showing me the true face of God, in a little sunburned body.

A Friend on the Line
by Jennings Michael Burch

Even before I finished dialling, I somehow knew I'd made a mistake. The phone rang once, twice - then someone picked it up.

"You got the wrong number!" a husky male voice snapped before the line went dead.

Mystified, I dialled again. "I said you got the wrong number!" came the voice. Once more the phone clicked in my ear. How could he possibly know I had a wrong number? At that time, I worked for the New York City Police Department. A cop is trained to be curious - and concerned. So I dialled a third time.

"Hey, c'mon," the man said. "Is this you again?"

"Yeah, it's me," I answered. "I was wondering how you knew I had the wrong number before I even said anything."

"You figure it out!" The phone slammed down.

I sat there awhile, the receiver hanging loosely in my fingers. I called the man back.

"Did you figure it out yet?" he asked.

"The only thing I can think of is...nobody ever calls you."

"You got it!" The phone went dead for the fourth time. Chuckling, I dialled the man back.

"What do you want now?" he asked.

"I thought I'd call...just to say hello."

"Hello? Why?"

"Well, if nobody ever calls you, I thought maybe I should."

"Okay. Hello. Who is this?"

At last I had gotten through. Now he was curious. I told him who I was and asked who he was.

"My name's Adolf Meth. I'm 88 years old, and I haven't had this many wrong numbers in one day in 20 years!" We both laughed. We talked for 10 minutes. Adolf had no family, no friends. Everyone he had been close to had died. Then we discovered we had something in common: he'd worked for the New York City Police Department for nearly 40 years. Telling me about his days there as an elevator operator, he seemed interesting, even friendly. I asked if I could call him again.

"Why would you wanta do that?" he asked, surprised.

"Well, maybe we could be phone friends. You know, like pen pals."

He hesitated. "I wouldn't mind...having a friend again." His voice sounded a little tentative.

I called Adolf the following afternoon and several days after that. Easy to talk with, he related his memories of World Wars I and II, the Hindenburg disaster and other historic events. He was fascinating. I gave him my home and office numbers so he could call me. He did - almost every day.

I was not just being kind to a lonely old man. Talking with Adolf was important to me, because I, too, had a big gap in my life. Raised in orphanages and foster homes, I never had a father. Gradually, Adolf took on a kind of fatherly importance to me. I talked about my job and college courses, which I attended at night. Adolf warmed to the role of counsellor. While discussing a disagreement I'd had with a supervisor, I told my new friend, "I think I ought to have it out with him." "What's the rush?" Adolf cautioned. "Let things cool down. When you get as old as I am, you find out that time takes care of a lot. If things get worse, then you can talk to him."

There was a long silence. "You know," he said softly, "I'm talking to you just the way I'd talk to a boy of my own. I always wanted a family - and children. You're too young to know how that feels."

No, I wasn't. I'd always wanted a family - and a father. But I didn't say anything, afraid I wouldn't be able to hold back the hurt I'd felt for so long.

One evening Adolf mentioned his 89th birthday was coming up. After buying a piece of fiberboard, I designed a 2' x 5' greeting card with a cake and 89 candles on it. I asked all the cops in my office and even the police commissioner to sign it. I gathered nearly a hundred signatures. Adolf would get a kick out of this, I knew.

We'd been talking on the phone for four months now, and I thought this would be a good time to meet face to face. So I decided to deliver the card by hand. I didn't tell Adolf I was coming; I just drove to his address one morning and parked the car up the street from his apartment house.

A postman was sorting mail in the hallway when I entered the building. He nodded as I checked the mailboxes for Adolf's name. There it was. Apartment 1H, some 20 feet from where I stood. My heart pounded with excitement. Would we have the same chemistry in person that we had on the phone? I felt the first stab of doubt. Maybe he would reject me the way my father rejected me when he went out of my life. I tapped on Adolf's door. When there was no answer, I knocked harder.

The postman looked up from his sorting. "No one's there," he said.

"Yeah," I said, feeling a little foolish. "If he answers his door the way he answers his phone, this may take all day."

"You a relative or something?"

"No. Just a friend."

"I'm really sorry," he said quietly, "but Mr. Meth died day before yesterday."

Died? Adolf? For a moment, I couldn't answer. I stood there in shock and disbelief. Then, pulling myself together, I thanked the postman and stepped into the late-morning sun. I walked toward the car, misty-eyed. Then, rounding a corner, I saw a church, and a line from the Old Testament leaped to mind: A friend loveth at all times. And especially in death, I realised. This brought a moment of recognition.

Often it takes some sudden and sad turn of events to awaken us to the beauty of a special presence in our lives. Now, for the first time, I sensed how very close Adolf and I had become. It had been easy, and I knew this would make it even easier the next time, with my next close friend.

Slowly, I felt a warmth surging through me. I heard Adolf's growly voice shouting, "Wrong number!" Then I heard him asking why I wanted to call again. "Because you mattered, Adolf," I said aloud to no one. "Because I was your friend." I placed the unopened birthday card on the back seat of my car and got behind the wheel. Before starting the engine, I looked over my shoulder. "Adolf," I whispered, "I didn't get the wrong number at all. I got you."

For all of you who feel only the deepest love and affection for the way computers have enhanced our lives:

At a recent computer exposition (COMDEX), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated:
"If General Motors had kept up with the technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25.00 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon".

In response to Bill's comments, GM issued a press release stating: "If General Motors had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics:-

1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash twice a day.

2. Every time they repainted the lines in the road, you would have to buy a new car.

3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. You would have to pull over to the side of the road, close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. For some reason, you would simply accept this.

4. Occasionally, executing a manoeuvre such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.

5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast and twice as easy to drive -- but would run on only five percent of the roads.

6. The oil, water temperature, and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single "General Protection Fault" warning light.

7. The airbag system would ask "are you sure?" before deploying.

8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.

9. Every time GM introduced a new car, car buyers would have to learn to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.

10. You'd have to press the "Start" button to turn the engine off.

In November 2000 Mr. Merv Grazinski of Oklahoma City purchased a brand new 32 foot Winnebago motor home. On his first trip home, having entered the freeway, he set the cruise control at 70 mph and calmly left the drivers seat to go into the back and make himself a cup of coffee. Not surprisingly the Winnie left the freeway, crashed and overturned. Mr. Grazinski sued Winnebago for not advising him in the handbook that he couldn't actually do this. He was awarded $1,750,000 plus a new Winnie.
(Winnebago has actually changed their handbooks as a result of this court case, just in case there are any other complete morons buying their vehicles.)

An old lady, quite delicate and elegant, especially in her speech, was planning several weeks vacation in Florida with her husband and wanted to make sure the camp grounds were fully equipped.

She didn't know just how to ask the manger about the toilet facilities. She decided that she couldn't use the word "toilet" in her letter to the manager. So after studying about it for some time, she thought the old-fashioned title "bathroom commode" sounded good.

But, maybe he would think that she was a bit forward, so she tore up the letter and started all over again. Referring to the toilet, in her final letter to the manager she asked if the campgrounds had a B.C.

Well, the manager had no idea what she was talking about, so he showed the letter to several friends. They couldn't figure out what she meant either.

Finally, they came to the conclusion that she must mean did the campgrounds have a Baptist Church. So, when he answered her letter he said,

"Dear Madame,

I regret very much the delay in answering your letter, but I am pleased to tell you that we do have a B.C. It is located just one mile North of the camp. It will seat 250 people at one time. I admit that it is quite a distance away if you go regularly.

You might be interested to know that there is a supper planned to make money to buy more seats. They will have them in the basement of the B.C. The last time my wife and I went was six years ago. It was so crowded that we had to stand up the whole time we were there.

I would like to say that it pains me very much not to be able to go more regularly, but it is surely no lack of desire on my part. As we grow older, it seems to be more of an effort, especially in cold weather. Some people take their lunch and make a day of it. They arrive early and stay late.

If you do decide to come here, perhaps I could go with you the first time you go. I could sit beside you and introduce you to the others.

Remember, this is a friendly community.”

A group of students were asked to list what they thought were the present Seven Wonders of the World. Though there was some disagreement, the following got the most votes:

1. Egypt's Great Pyramids
2. Taj Mahal
3. Grand Canyon
4. Panama Canal
5. Empire State Building
6. St. Peter's Basilica
7. China's Great Wall

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one quiet student hadn't turned in her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list. The girl replied, "Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many."

The teacher said, "Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help."

The girl hesitated, then read, "I think the Seven Wonders of the World are:

1. To touch
2. To taste
3. To see
4. To hear

She hesitated a little, and then added:
5. To feel
6. To laugh
7. And to love.

The room was so full of silence you could have heard a pin drop.

Those things we overlook as simple and "ordinary" are truly wondrous! A gentle reminder that the most precious things in life cannot be bought.

(Thanx Softtouch)

1902 Statistics

The year is 1902 , one hundred years ago ... what a difference a century makes. Here are the US statistics for 1902.

The average life expectancy in the US was forty-seven (47).

Only 14 percent of the homes in the US had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost eleven dollars.

There were only 8,000 cars in the US and only 144 miles of paved roads.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California.

With a mere 1.4 million residents, California was only the 21st most populous state in the Union.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average wage in the US was 22 cents an hour.

The average US worker made between $200 and $400 per year.

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births in the US took place at home.

Ninety percent of all US physicians had no college education. Instead, they attended medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press and by the government as "substandard."

Sugar cost four cents a pound. Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.

Coffee cost fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month and used borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law prohibiting poor people from entering the country for any reason.

The five leading causes of death in the US were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhoea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

The American flag had 45 stars. Arizona, Okalahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii and Alaska hadn't been admitted to the Union yet.

The population of Las Vegas, Nevada was 30.

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn't been invented. There were no Mother's Day or Father's Day.

One in ten US adults couldn't read or write.

Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at corner drugstores. According to one pharmacist, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and the bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."

Eighteen percent of households in the US had at least one full-time servant or domestic.

There were only about 230 reported murders in the entire US.

Thanx Dee

WARNING: Do not lick envelopes!!!

This is a true story reported on CNN. If you lick your envelopes...You won't anymore!!!!

A woman was working in a post office in California. One day she licked the envelopes and postage stamps instead of using a sponge. That very day the lady cut her tongue on the envelope.

A week later, she noticed an abnormal swelling of her tongue. She went to the doctor, and they found nothing wrong. Her tongue was not sore or anything. A couple of days later, her tongue started to swell more, and it began to get really sore, so sore, that she could not eat. She went back to the hospital, and demanded something be done. The doctor took an x-ray of her tongue, and noticed a lump.

He prepared her for minor surgery. When the doctor cut her tongue open, a live roach crawled out. There were roach eggs on the seal of the envelope. The egg was able to hatch inside of her tongue, because of her saliva. It was warm and moist.
 

Andy Hume wrote:

"Hey, I used to work in an envelope factory. You wouldn't believe the things that float around in those gum applicator trays. I haven't licked an envelope for years."

To All:
I used to work for a print shop (32 years ago) and we were told NEVER to lick the envelopes. I never understood why until I had to go into storage and pull out 2500 envelopes that were already printed for a customer who was doing a mailing and saw several squads of roaches roaming around inside a couple of boxes with eggs everywhere. They eat the glue on the envelopes.

I think print shops have a harder time controlling roaches than a restaurant.

I always buy the self sealing type. Or if need be I use a glue stick to seal one that has the type of glue that needs to be wet to stick.”

The Greatest Pain in Life

The greatest pain in life is not to die, but to be ignored.
To lose the person you love so much to another who doesn't care at all.
To have someone you care so about so much throw a party... and not tell you about it.
When your favorite person on earth neglects to invite you to his graduation.
To have people think that you don't care.
The greatest pain in life, is not to die, but to be forgotten.
To be left in the dust after another's great achievement.
To never get a call from a friend, just saying "hi".
When you show someone your innermost thoughts and they laugh in your face.
For friends to always be too busy to console you when you need someone to lift your spirits.
When it seems like the only person who cares about you, is you.
Life is full of pain, but does it ever get better?
Will people ever care about each other, and make time for those who are in need?
Each of us has a part to play in this great show we call life.
Each of us has a duty to mankind to tell our friends we love them.
If you do not care about your friends you will not be punished.
You will simply be ignored...
forgotten...
as you have done to others.

This poem was written by a young girl who committed suicide some years ago.
Please show someone you care for them today. It takes so little of your time to smile, give a hug, a word of encouragement or just to say "I care". You will be rewarded for sure.

(Thanx Flower)

HOW ABOUT THIS FOR A STRING OF COINCIDENCES?

Abraham Lincoln was elected to congress in 1846.  JF Kennedy was elected in 1946.
Abraham Lincoln was elected President in 1860.  JF Kennedy was elected in 1960.
The names Lincoln and Kennedy each contain seven letters.  Both were particularly concerned with civil  rights.  Both wives lost a child while living in the White House.
Both Presidents were shot on a Friday.  Both Presidents were shot  in the head.
Both were assassinated by Southerners.  Both were succeeded by Southerners named Johnson.
Lincoln's secretary was named Kennedy.  Kennedy's secretary was named Lincoln.
Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln, was born in 1808.  Lyndon who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908.
John Wikes Booth, who assassinated Lincoln, was born in 1839.  Lee  Harvey  Oswald, who assassinated Kennedy, was born in 1939.  Both assassins were known by their three names.  Both names composed of fifteen letters.
Lincoln was shot at a theatre named "Kennedy".  Kennedy was shot in a car called "Lincoln".
Booth ran from the theatre and was caught in a warehouse.  Oswald ran from a warehouse and was caught in a theatre.
Booth and Oswald were assassinated before their trials.
And here's the kicker.  A week before Lincoln  was shot, he was in Monroe, Maryland.  A week before Kennedy was shot, he was with Marilyn Monroe.

Creepy, huh?
 

(Thanx Kally)

57 Cents

A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turned away because it "was too crowded."

"I can't go to Sunday School," she sobbed to the pastor as he walked by.  Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed the reason and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Sunday school class. The child was so happy that they found room for her, that she went to bed that night thinking of the children who have no place to worship Jesus.

Some two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor tenement buildings and the parents called for the
kindhearted pastor, who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final arrangements. As her poor little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump. Inside was found 57 cents and a note scribbled in childish handwriting which read,

"This is to help build the little church bigger so more children can go to Sunday School." For two years she had
saved for this offering of love.

When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly what he would do. Carrying this note and the cracked,
red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for the larger building.

But the story does not end there!

A newspaper learned of the story and published it. It was read by a Realtor who offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so much, he offered it for 57 cents.

Church members made large donations. Checks came from far and wide. Within five years the little girl's gift had increased to $250,000.00--a huge sum for that time (near the turn of the century). Her unselfish love had paid large dividend.

When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist Church, with a seating capacity of 3,300 and
Temple University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of Sunday Schoolers, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday school time.

In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents,
so sacrificially saved,  made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russel H. Conwell, author of the book, "Acres of Diamonds".
 

(Thanx Dee)