Refining Silver

One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study.

That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her
interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. 

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: "He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver." She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined.

The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. 

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"

He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it"  

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you

The Wallet

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.
 
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.
 
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah.
 
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.
 
"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"
 
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."
 
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!"
 
"Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.
 
"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter."
 
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
 
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?
 
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "
 
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television."
 
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
 
She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael."
 
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said Softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."
 
"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..."
 
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?"
 
I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet."
 
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."
 
"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.
 
"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
 
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."
 
We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"
 
"This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"
 
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward."
 
"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."
 
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"
 
"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is."
 
He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.
 
"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly.
 
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her."
 
"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me."
 
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.
 
"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?"
 
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.
 
Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"
 
She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!"
 
He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.
 
"See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."
 
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!"
 
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall.
 
They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
 
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

Opening Rosebud

One day, a young, new preacher was walking with an older, seasoned preacher in a garden. Feeling uncertain about God's plan for his life, the younger man asked the older man for some direction.

The veteran preacher picked a rosebud from a nearby bush and asked the younger man to open it without tearing any petals. The young man wondered what a rosebud could possibly have to do with knowing God's will for his life and ministry, but attempted to open the rosebud anyway.

It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this task was.Noticing his difficulty, the older and wiser preacher said:
"It is only a tiny rosebud...a flower of God's design; But I cannot unfold the petals with these clumsy hands of mine. The secret of unfolding flowers is not known to such as I. God opens this flower so sweetly, then in my hands they die. If I cannot unfold a rosebud, the flower of God's design, Then how can I have the wisdom to unfold this life of mine? So, I'll trust in Him for leading each moment of my day. I will look to Him for guidance each step of the Pilgrim's way. The pathway that lies before me only my Heavenly Father knows. I'll trust Him to unfold the moments just as He unfolds the rose."

No matter what age you are, it can be frustrating to figure out God's will at times. But we serve a God who knows how many hairs are on our heads...and His plan for your life is perfect! Instead of worrying about what tomorrow or the next day holds, take one day at a time and trust in the Savior for His faithful guidance.

Grocery List

Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store. She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries.She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food.

John Longhouse, the grocer, scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store at once. Visualizing the family needs, she said: 'Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can.'

John told her he could not give her credit, since she did not have a charge account at his store..

Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family. The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, 'Do you have a grocery list?'

Louise replied, 'Yes sir.'

'O.K' he said, 'put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries..'

Louise hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.

The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down.

The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, 'I can't believe it.'

The customer smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more.

The grocer stood there in utter disgust. Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement.

It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer, which said:

'Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands.'

The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and stood in stunned silence.

Louise thanked him and left the store... The other customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said; 'It was worth every penny of it. Only God Knows how much a prayer weighs..'

Take My Son

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art..
 
When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.
 
About a month later, just before Christmas,
 
There was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands..
 
He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly... He often talked about you, and your love for art.' The young man held out this package. 'I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.'
 
The father
 
Opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture.. 'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift.'
 
The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
 
The man died a few months later.. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.
 
On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?'
 
There was silence..
 
Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.'
 
But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?'
 
Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandts.. Get on with the
 
Real bids!'
 
But still the auctioneer continued. 'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?'
 
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting...' Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
 
'We have $10, who will bid $20?'
 
'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters.'
 
The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son.
 
They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.
 
The auctioneer pounded the gavel. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!'
 
A man sitting on the second row shouted, 'Now let's get on with the collection!'
 
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. 'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'
 
'What about the paintings?'
 
'I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.
 
The man who took the son gets everything!'
 
God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: 'The son, the son, who'll take the son?'
 
Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
 
FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE....THAT'S LOVE

What happens in Heaven

I dreamt that I went to Heaven and an angel was showing me around. We walked side-by-side inside a large workroom filled with angels. My angel guide stopped in front of the first section and said, 'This Is the Receiving Section. Here, all petitions to GOD said in prayer are Received..'

I looked around in this area, and it was terribly busy with so many angels sorting out petitions written on voluminous paper sheets and scraps from people all over the world.

Then we moved on down a long corridor until we reached the second section. The angel then said to me, 'This is the Packaging and Delivery Section. Here, the graces and blessings the people asked for are processed and delivered to the living persons who asked for them.'

I noticed again how busy it was there. There were many angels working hard at that station, since so many blessings had been requested and were being packaged for delivery to Earth

Finally at the farthest end of the long corridor we stopped at the Door of a very small station To my great surprise, only one angel was Seated there, idly doing nothing. 'This is the Acknowledgment Section,' My angel friend quietly admitted to me. He seemed embarrassed 'How Is it that there is no work going on here?' I asked.

'So sad,' the angel sighed. 'After people receive the blessings that they asked For, very few send back acknowledgments.'

The Perfect Proposal

I never thought I would propose. Never thought couple of years back that I would do something what I thought was so absurd and stupid like this. Never thought I would make news that I reviled to hear about before. I never understood the proper sense and intent of a "*Proposal*" till then. In fact, I don't understand it completely even now.

The cool strong breeze kept my eyes only half-lit, which sighted the beauty of the gloomy, dim illuminated dusk. There was a slight sprinkle around the corner, soothing and keeping the romantic effect of that magical evening at ease. It was an ideal state. It was my favorite day, preferred time of the day, proper weather and best place to be and of course she was there, the apple of my eye. The stage was set for a "Perfect Proposal".

It was not that I had waited for a day like this but it just happened. I arrived there little early and kept wondering "Am I really going to do this?" The entire idea of a proposal kept me troubling all the time. This was simply because I did not intend to do this anymore. I was sitting on one bench. Slightly elevated place from where a diminished view of the entire residential area around could be seen. It was urban outskirts, I will say. No sounds, except that of the gentle breeze. No light except the fading daylight. No tribe except me. It seemed strange that I came here often and hardly saw any people around. I wondered why.....but I wasn't here to figure that out. I turned and eyed at the sloped passage that led me here. In fact I was waiting for her. I turned back again and started recollecting all that I had thought, I should say. As I had almost finished I heard someone walking up.

I turned. "Hi", she said a little loud and walked closer. She was wearing her favorite blue jeans and a red short T-shirt. The cool breeze kept dancing with her silky long hair which she had let cascade over her shoulder. She came and sat down next to me on the bench. I kept looking at her and replied "Hi"

Soon she asked "Why did you call me here?"

I was expecting this. I got up, treaded two steps ahead and sat down on the small rock in front of bench. Now I was facing her. She kept wondering what was taking me so long to answer.

"I thought....., I would propose to you", I said boldly. I just pretended to be bold. The eager looks on her face turned to those of confusion. She didn't know what to say. Initially she laughed and then got a little serious and exclaimed "Are you kidding?"

"No, I just said what was in my mind." I said quickly. "I mean, I am serious I called you here to propose you." I added.

I was looking at her eagerly to get the reaction. She kept laughing.

"I think you've gone crazy, I mean how can you just call me somewhere and out of the blue say I want to propose to you! I just don't believe this. I think you are kidding as you always do. Oh God! Is this April 1st or something?" She said a little frustrated. But the smile still remained on her face. She looked back at me. I was  looking at her seriously letting her know that I wasn't kidding. I waited for her to calm down and get ready to listen.

I got up and walked close to her. I stood in front of her and she was still sitting on the bench. I silently looked into her glittery eyes for a moment and put my hand out. She looked surprised as I said "Promise me."

"Promise you........... What?" she asked.

"Promise me that ...., that is all you are not going to speak for rest of the evening. Promise me that you are not going to answer to any of the questions that I ask you now."

She was confused. "But why?" she asked.

"Just think I am making it easy for you", I said.

"Ok, I promise", she said still confused.

"So that's it, I am going to speak from now on and you are just going listen, ok?"

"Alright, carry on, I am all ears." she said.

I started. "Before you were here, I was wondering how a guy, actually proposes to a girl. Does he get close to her, hold her hands in his hands, look into her eyes deeply, get close enough to whisper the traditional "I Love You" or be a little creative saying things like "I wish I was one of your tears so I could be born in your eye, run down your cheek, and die on your lips." or "If I had eleven roses and you, I'd have a dozen." or something of that sort. I would have probably gone by one of those ways if I weren't quaint about the entire idea of proposing." She kept listening as her silky long hair was constantly fleeting with the breeze.

I paused a little and then continued. "I'll tell you what was exactly in my mind about a proposal. It's like, a guy proposes to a girl and if she says "Yes", they become better friends calling each other their crushes until mostly they breakup someday and look for someone else to propose. Or rarely resulting to marriage and account for the few love marriages that we hear of. But if the girl says "No", they breakup even as good friends and stop talking to each other for the rest of their lives. After all even if they become lovers, what difference is it going to make until they are going to marry, they'll still remain the friends they were before. So, why propose now? Go propose when you plan to marry."

I paused as she kept listening silently. I was trying to sound as engaging as possible. I did not want to make it the filmi way. All the while, I had the feeling that any moment she would burst out laughing hearing my well-formatted and memorized lecture.

I continued "this was what I was having in my mind. That was probably why I never fell in love or thought I would propose to someone. But it all changed after I met you and got close to you. If it hadn't changed I wouldn't be doing this today."

She was still listening patiently. I knew I wasn't boring her though I sounded a little dramatic. How much ever I tried I always had the feeling I was aping one of the Khans of bollywood. I got up and walked back to the bench and sat close to her as I had sat before I continued the lecture.

"You know what, though? I was a little confused about all this. I still  preferred a love marriage. It was just that I didn't want to marry someone whom I did not know well before. I thought that I would do all that once I could be independent. But then I met you, much earlier. It was not love at first sight. I knew you were beautiful on the first sight and ever after but that was not the only thing that made me fall in love with you. It was the result of your friendship and our togetherness. We have always been good friends and we know each other pretty well. That was when and why my ideas about the concept of love started changing. I thought if we have been good friends for a few years, why can't we be the same for the rest of our lives."

I could see her patiently listening. I thought she would forget her promise at some point and would speak out but she didn't.

I resumed "Then, there was that thing which was bothering me! I do not want to propose until I settled down. So I thought, ok I am going to let you know my intentions when I wish to marry.....But what if you had different plans or may be you are already married! Then why should you wait for me? I would really miss you then.... miss you very badly........So I thought I should tell you what was there in my mind now. Maybe that is what you call a Proposal and I started to understand it that way. Don't you think we can make a nice pair?" I asked!

She kept looking at me silently. I thought she was surprised because it was probably the first time I was talking to her so seriously. I never thought I should be serious about anything unless I really needed to be. As the saying goes "don't be too serious about life, you'll never get out of it alive."

I got up and walked slowly as I continued "You must be wondering why I asked you to remain silent and not even answer to my questions. I'll answer that........It wasn't that I felt I should propose to you last night and just because I felt so, I called you here, today and ……..I paused for a second. I thought a lot before doing this. I had to. I had to think about many other things. Ultimately I also needed to think over "Are we going to make a good pair forever?" I thought about all these and more, deeply and only when I felt it was all going to be fine, I proposed. I know ..., the outcome of this proposal is either a "Yes" or a "No". But whatever it is, I didn't want to hear it now. I want you to think about it and then answer. I thought a lot before doing this and I felt even you had to. That's why I asked you not to speak. Think about it and call me back no matter what your answer is."

She kept looking at me seriously and was about to say something but then remembered her promise and just nodded. I went back and sat on the rock facing her.

"No matter what your answer is, I am taking it sportingly. We will still remain good friends. It's just that I don't want to face the break up. That is because I have a small circle of friends and I don't want to make it smaller anymore. That's all from my side", I said.

I gave a sigh of relief and got up. She followed me. I had to make it sentimental at the end. That was the only other ingredient I had to add to cook up my recipe. I walked closer to her and uttered, "Bye, I'll wait for your call."

She frowned at those words which surprised me a little. She then turned and walked away. I watched as she walked along. She took a few steps and turned towards me with a bigger smile. She started to walk back for me. She came close and stretched her right hand forward. I smiled shook hands with her.

"Great...You were just great", She exclaimed.

I smiled again and asked "Thanks...., do you think it's going to work?"

"I don't know whether or not it's going to be a PERFECT PROPOSAL but I'm sure this was the Perfect Rehearsal. All the best anyway.... I should leave now, it's time and he should be coming. Bye and all the best." She said as she started to move.

"Bye", I whispered slowly as I saw her hurry back down the sloped passage. I walked back and sat on the bench.