<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156122140272547301</id><updated>2011-04-21T10:57:31.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You save me</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Crystal Diary</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zKrnDyysOM4/SXdTfFGS7WI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/uCnO9fJuW7Q/S220/bp.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156122140272547301.post-1314224752512869050</id><published>2008-10-04T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T07:54:13.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Isaiah 65:24 - 'Before they call, I will answer'</title><content type='html'>This story was written by a doctor who worked in South Africa .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; spite of all we could do, she died leaving us with a tiny premature&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; baby and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator (we had no electricity&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; to run an incubator).&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; We also had no special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; midwife went for the box we had for such babies and the cotton wool&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; that the baby would be wrapped in.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle,&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; it had burst (rubber perishes easily in tropical climates). 'And it is&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; our last hot water bottle!' she exclaimed. As in the West, it is no&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; good crying over spilled milk so in Central Africa it might be&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; considered no good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; there are no drugstores down forest pathways.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; 'All right,' I said, 'put the baby as near the fire as you safely can,&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Your job is to keep the baby warm.'&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the baby&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle, and that the baby could&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; sister, crying because her mother had died.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; During prayer time, one ten-year old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; blunt conciseness of our African children. 'Please, God' she prayed,&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; 'send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; will be dead, so please send it this afternoon.' While I gasped&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added, 'And while You are&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; about it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; know You really love her?'&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; honestly say, 'Amen'? I just did not believe that God could do this.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything, the Bible says so. But&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from homeland. I had&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I had never,&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; ever received a parcel from home.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; bottle? I lived on the equator! Halfway through the afternoon, while I&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; there was a car at my front door.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on the&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; veranda, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; children. Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; focused on the large cardboard box. From the top, I lifted out&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; brightly colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; sultanas - that would make a batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; put my hand in again, I felt the.....could it really be? I grasped it&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; and pulled it out - yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle. I&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; He could.. Ruth was in the front row of the children. She&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; rushed forward, crying out, 'If God has sent the bottle, He must have&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; sent the dolly too!' Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; had never doubted! Looking up at me, she asked: 'Can I go over with&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; you and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; really loves her?'&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; the girls had put in a dolly for an African child - five month s&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; before, in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; it 'that afternoon'.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; 'Before they call, I will answer' (Isaiah 65:24) This awesome prayer&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; takes less than a minute. When you receive this, say the prayer,&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; that's all you have to do. No strings attached. Just send it on to&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; whoever you want - but do send it on. Prayer is one of the best free&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; gifts we receive. There is no cost but a lot of rewards. Let's&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; continue praying for one another !&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; 'Father, I ask you to bless my friends reading this right now.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; I am asking You to minister to their spirit at this very moment.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Where there is pain, give them Your peace and mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Where there is self doubting, release a renewed confidence to work&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; through them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Where there is spiritual stagnation, I ask You to renew them by&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; revealing Your nearness, and by drawing them into greater intimacy&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; with You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Where there is fear, reveal Your love, and release to them Your courage.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Bless their finances, give them greater vision, and raise up leaders&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; and friends to support and encourage them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; Give each of them discernment to recognize the evil forces around&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; them, and reveal to them the power they have in You to defeat it.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; &gt; I ask you to do these things in Jesus' name. '&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2156122140272547301-1314224752512869050?l=walking-with-you.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/feeds/1314224752512869050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2156122140272547301&amp;postID=1314224752512869050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/1314224752512869050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/1314224752512869050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/2008/10/isaiah-6524-before-they-call-i-will.html' title='Isaiah 65:24 - &apos;Before they call, I will answer&apos;'/><author><name>Crystal Diary</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zKrnDyysOM4/SXdTfFGS7WI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/uCnO9fJuW7Q/S220/bp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156122140272547301.post-2341250624961984299</id><published>2008-10-02T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T19:34:24.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dart Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke, it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young lady named Sally, relates an experience she had in a seminary class, given by her teacher, Dr. Smith . She says that Dr. Smith was known for his elaborate object lessons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary and knew they were in for a fun day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the wall was a big target and on a nearby table were many darts.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Smith told the students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts at the person's picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sally's friend drew a picture of who had stolen her boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Another friend drew a picture of his little brother.&lt;br /&gt;Sally drew a picture of a former friend&lt;br /&gt;putting a great deal of detail into her drawing&lt;br /&gt;even drawing pimples on the face.&lt;br /&gt;Sally was pleased with the overall effect she had achieved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The class lined up and began throwing darts.&lt;br /&gt;Some of the students threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripping apart. Sally looked forward to her turn,&lt;br /&gt;and was filled with disappointment when Dr. Smith , because of time limits,&lt;br /&gt;asked the students to return to their seats.&lt;br /&gt;As Sally sat thinking about how angry she was because she didn't have a chance to throw any darts at her target.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Smith began removing the target from the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Underneath the target was a picture of Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;A hush fell over the room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus;&lt;br /&gt;holes and jagged marks covered&lt;br /&gt;His face and His eyes were pierced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Smith said only these words....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;' In as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me .'&lt;br /&gt;Matthew 25:40.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No other words were necessary; the tears filled eyes of the students focused only on the picture of Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;This is an easy test; you score 100 or zero . It's your choice.&lt;br /&gt;Jesus said, ' If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you, before My Father.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2156122140272547301-2341250624961984299?l=walking-with-you.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/feeds/2341250624961984299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2156122140272547301&amp;postID=2341250624961984299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/2341250624961984299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/2341250624961984299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/2008/10/dart-test.html' title='Dart Test'/><author><name>Crystal Diary</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zKrnDyysOM4/SXdTfFGS7WI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/uCnO9fJuW7Q/S220/bp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156122140272547301.post-3755245635789374806</id><published>2008-10-02T06:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T19:41:08.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He hears me :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I was walking around in a Target store, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old.&lt;br /&gt;The Cashier said, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny,&lt;br /&gt;are you sure I don't have enough money?''&lt;br /&gt;The old lady replied:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;She left quickly.&lt;br /&gt;The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.&lt;br /&gt;Finally, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'&lt;br /&gt;I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;and not to worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he replied to me sadly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His eyes were so sad while saying this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart nearly stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy looked up at me and said:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; He then told me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.&lt;br /&gt;I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'Suppose we check &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;again, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;just in case you do have enough money for the doll?''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'OK' he said, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'I hope I do have enough.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I added some of my money to his with out him seeing and we started to count it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;There was enough for the doll and even some spare money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy said: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he looked at me and added, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; so that mommy could give It to my sister.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; He heard me!''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'My mommy loves white roses.'&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;the old lady returned and I left with my basket.&lt;br /&gt;I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;who hit a car occupied by a young&lt;br /&gt;woman and a little girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl died right away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; and the mother was left in a critical state.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the&lt;br /&gt;life-sustaining machine, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was this the family of the little boy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days after this encounter with the little boy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body o f the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was there,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; in her coffin,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the place, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is&lt;br /&gt;still, to this day, hard to imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in a fraction of a second,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; a drunk driver had taken all this away from him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2156122140272547301-3755245635789374806?l=walking-with-you.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/feeds/3755245635789374806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2156122140272547301&amp;postID=3755245635789374806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/3755245635789374806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/3755245635789374806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/2008/10/he-hears-me.html' title='He hears me :)'/><author><name>Crystal Diary</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zKrnDyysOM4/SXdTfFGS7WI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/uCnO9fJuW7Q/S220/bp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156122140272547301.post-1113093430089659101</id><published>2008-10-01T04:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T19:35:24.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He hold me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#996633;"&gt;IF SOMEONE HAD A GUN HELD IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE AND ASKED YOU IF YOU BELIEVED IN GOD, WHAT WOULD YOU DO?&lt;br /&gt;SAY NO AND FEEL ASHAMED THE REST OF YOUR LIFE? OR SAY YES, I DO, AND DIE STANDING UP FOR GOD?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TAKE A DEEP BREATH BEFORE READING THIS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an atheist couple who had a child. The couple never told their daughter anything about the Lord. One night when the little girl was 5 years old, the parents fought with each other and the dad shot the Mom, right in front of the child. Then, the dad shot himself. The little girl watched it all. She then was sent to a foster home. The foster mother was a Christian and took the child to church. On the first day of Sunday School, the foster mother told the teacher that the girl had never heard of Jesus, and to have patience with her. The teacher held up a picture of Jesus and said, 'Does anyone know who this is?' The little girl said, 'I do, that's the man who was holding me the night my parents died.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2156122140272547301-1113093430089659101?l=walking-with-you.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/feeds/1113093430089659101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2156122140272547301&amp;postID=1113093430089659101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/1113093430089659101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/1113093430089659101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/2008/10/he-hold-me.html' title='He hold me'/><author><name>Crystal Diary</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zKrnDyysOM4/SXdTfFGS7WI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/uCnO9fJuW7Q/S220/bp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2156122140272547301.post-9144842226411823338</id><published>2008-09-30T06:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T06:54:08.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Need washing?</title><content type='html'>A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in the store. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in 'Mom let's run through the rain,' she said.&lt;br /&gt;'What?' Mom asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Lets run through the rain!' She repeated&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit,' Mom replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This young child waited about another minute and repeated: 'Mom, let's run through the rain,'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'We'll get soaked if we do,' Mom said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No, we won't, Mom.. That's not what you said this morning,' the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said,&lt;br /&gt;'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If GOD let's us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,' Mom said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories...So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories everyday. To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.&lt;br /&gt;I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2156122140272547301-9144842226411823338?l=walking-with-you.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/feeds/9144842226411823338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2156122140272547301&amp;postID=9144842226411823338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/9144842226411823338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2156122140272547301/posts/default/9144842226411823338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://walking-with-you.blogspot.com/2008/10/need-washing.html' title='Need washing?'/><author><name>Crystal Diary</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zKrnDyysOM4/SXdTfFGS7WI/AAAAAAAAG1Y/uCnO9fJuW7Q/S220/bp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
