And Lo, The Angel of the Lord Came Upon Them…

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid. Luke 2:9

Well worth the read… Merry Christmas!

Grandma and Santa Claus

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.

I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” she snorted…”Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. “Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.”

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby, From Santa Claus” on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa’s helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.”

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were — ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

Author unknown

Today’s inspirational story is shared from the following website: http://www.inspire21.com/stories/holidaystories/GrandmaandSantaClaus

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Angels….Are There to Help Us!

Angels play a prominent part in the Lord’s plan in all dispensations. Our own dispensation is no exception. In fact, our dispensation has been a period of extraordinary angelic activity Donald W. ParryI believe in angels – I have to – I have seen them more than once.

The first time came when my husband and I saw our unborn children. The second came when my angel took me back to heaven to witness my meeting with God.

The angels, that I have witnessed, did not have wings but their visits did have purpose and were orchestrated by God.

Knowing what I know, I realize that I see angels on a daily basis. It’s just that all of the angels I see daily have bodies now and are having a mortal experience. The mortal angels I see daily have mostly forgotten where they came from and the purpose for their being here. (If they only knew their true identity!)

I know and I have witnessed, many occasions, events and occurrences in which angels were involved. I know that my deceased father saved my granddaughter when she was caught in a rock slide. I know that angels surrounded her in her hospital room and gave her much needed strength and healing. I know that angels facilitated the miraculous search and adoption of my two children from Russia. I have heard the voices of angels, seen them and felt them. Would you be surprised to know that I believe that manifestations through feelings is most important?

Feeling is believing…after my near-death experience, I have come to recognize how important it is to give feelings credibility. It is even more important to give God credit for the work He does in our lives.

I suspect that once I return to that heavenly realm from whence we all came that I will see that my encounters with heavenly angels were much more frequent than I even knew. I will not be surprised if I find that all of us are helped and assisted by angels in some way on a daily basis.

As a result of my near-death experience and encounters with angels, I have learned to give thanks for my angels and to ask for their assistance. I know that they are a great blessing in my life. I hope you will join me in giving thanks to God for the angels who assist us!

I hope you enjoy today’s story!

Paris

This story takes places on February 3, 2001. My best friend is a flight attendant for a Canadian Airline and she took me to Paris with her for my 40th birthday as my present. It was a whirlwind trip but very special and very memorable for many reasons but specifically this one. We had walked from our hotel over the bridge of the Thames River to the old side of Paris. We stopped at the flame of Princess Diana and shed a few tears looking at all the letters, candles, etc. that were there for her. We went to a restaurant and had dinner. When we went to go home we couldn’t decide whether to walk or take a taxi. It was drizzling some but we decided to walk anyway.

When we got back to the site of Diana’s flame, we got into a very deep discussion about death and why good people get taken away at such a young age. My sister-in-law had died in her early 40’s of leukemia a few years prior. I am a Christian and my best friend was just starting to believe so it was a very interesting conversation. In front of her flame, we crossed the street and were walking along the sidewalk very close beside the Thames River which was flowing very fast and high because of the rain and time of year. My friend had warned me earlier in the day to hold onto my purse because there were a lot of muggings in Paris. I had never been mugged before even though I had lived in places like Mexico City, Acapulco and downtown Toronto so I honestly didn’t think much of it.

Well, as we were walking along in this deep spiritual conversation, someone ran up to me and pushed me really hard towards the river and tried to grab my purse. It was like out of a movie or something. I felt like I was standing back while it was happening kind of in slow motion. I screamed very loud and so did my friend, I held onto my purse for dear life and all of a sudden, out of what seemed like nowhere, a very tall (over 6’5″ tall) very handsome man came along, enveloped both my friend and I in his arms and asked us if we were okay. We screamed at him too unfortunately just because we were so distraught and afraid and when the mugger ran in the opposite direction after turning back and looking at us, we turned around to thank the man and he was gone – just like that.

It was all open so we couldn’t figure out where he went so quickly. We both looked at each other after, both of us shaking like leafs and we both said at the same time, “Was that an angel that helped us?”. And if so, we hadn’t been very kind to him. I guess he understood our fright. Both of us maintain, to this day, the mugger looked back and saw the man with us and ran away because of him. Once his job was done, the man was gone. I still believe he was an angel and I’m very thankful. I could very easily have been pushed into the river and swept away. Merci to whoever it was . . . 🙂

Story shared from the following website: http://www.angels-online.com/

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To Touch the Soul of Another…Being a Mortal Angel

To touch the soul of another human being is to walk on Holy Ground. Stephen R. CoveyI have found that our fellow sojourners on earth can be some of our best angels. I believe that, when we choose to serve our fellow men, we choose to allow God to use us as his angels.

I know that angels are real. I have seen them. While the variety that I have seen is not the winged creatures with halos that are so often depicted, I know their work is real and I know they serve us more than we can even begin to imagine. They know us, they are aware of our needs, and they serve us.

Yet, their presence in our lives does not negate the need for mortal angels. We each are needed in this quest called mortality. God’s work begs to be done. Whether it is to lift a stranger with a smile or to literally carry one who cannot lift his own weight – no need should be considered trivial or of no worth. When we lend that assistance, however small it may be, we are giving love to the world and serving God in some of the most important of ways.

We are all connected with each other and we are all connected to heaven much more than mortality allows us to understand. With that knowledge in hand, I hope that you will join me in smiling more, offering more words of praise, and finding other ways of making a difference!

I hope you enjoy today’s story. I think it perfectly demonstrates how the work of angels can come from the most unexpected places!:

The Story of Rose

The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn’t already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.She said, “Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I’m eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?”

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, “Of course you may!” and she gave me a giant squeeze. “Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?” I asked.

She jokingly replied, “I’m here to meet a rich husband, get married, have a couple of children, and then retire and travel.”

“No seriously,” I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

“I always dreamed of having a college education and now I’m getting one!” she told me.

After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake. We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this “time machine” as she shared her wisdom and experience with me. Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I’ll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor. Frustrated and a little embarrassed, she leaned into the microphone and simply said, “I’m sorry I’m so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I’ll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.”

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began:

“We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success.”

“You have to laugh and find humor every day.”

“You’ve got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die. We have so many people walking around who are dead and don’t even know it!”

“There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don’t do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight. Anybody can grow older. That doesn’t take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity in change.”

“Have no regrets. The elderly usually don’t have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.”

She concluded her speech by courageously singing “The Rose.” She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives.

At the year’s end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago. One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it’s never too late to be all you can possibly be.

We send these words in loving memory of Rose.

Remember:–Growing older is mandatory, growing up is optional!

Author Unknown, Story Submitted by world traveler Margo Polo.

Story shared from the following website: http://www.askalana.com/stories/rose.shtml

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And There Were in the Same Country Shepherds Abiding in the Field…

 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night…I don’t know why but this part of the Christmas story always reminds me of God watching over us. I find it so comforting to know that, even in our loneliest moments, we are not alone and God and his angels are watching over us.

I don’t know if the story I share today is true – therefore, it may not be a story of a “true” miracle. However, I loved the spirit of the story so much, that I decided to share it anyway. I hope as the day we celebrate Christ’s birth draws closer that the spirit of his love for you burns ever brighter! Enjoy!

“A Christmas Miracle”

Rose rubbed the sleeve of her nightgown against the frosty glass and peered out into the night sky. The moon peeked over the mountain behind the little cabin.

Rose searched the sky. She needed to find a shooting star. Christmas was only three days away, and she had to make a wish.

“Rose McKenzie, stop your daydreaming,” Mama said. She pulled the curtain shut and kissed the top of Rose’s head. “It’s time for bed.”

Rose scrubbed her face and hands in the washbasin and ran a brush through her tangled hair. Her brothers, James and Henry, were settling down on their mattresses near the fire. Baby Bonnie was already fast asleep in her little bed — a drawer lined with soft blankets that rested on the chair beside her parents’ bed.

Rose leaned over to kiss the baby good-night. Then she kissed Mama and Papa, blew out the lantern, and crawled into the little fold-up bed next to the window that she shared with her sister, Sarah.

Rose tugged the covers to her chin. The fire in the fireplace hissed and popped. Papa’s snores rattled through the cabin. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees.

And Rose thought she would never fall asleep. It was too close to Christmas, too close to the most wonderful day of the year, and too close to the morning when her family would open small homemade gifts again.

 

Rose looked out the window again. She remembered how Mama had stared at the lacy green dress in the window of Mr. Pranger’s store when they drove into town. Rose wanted to give her mama that dress.

She closed her eyes and could see Mama opening it on Christmas morning.

There was Mama, laughing out loud in surprise. The green lace dress matched Mama’s sparkling green eyes.

Then Papa opened his gift — a shiny black pipe. Not a homemade one, whittled from a hickory branch. A brand-new pipe ordered from a catalog and shipped all the way from New York City.

Bonnie’s gift was a crib, carved and painted, and the boys got new wool coats. In Sarah’s gift was a note that said, “Look outside.” Sarah pulled open the door, and there stood a dapple gray pony with a big red ribbon around his neck.

“They got just what they wanted,” Rose murmured.

She opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed into the cabin.

Rose shook her head. “It was only a dream,” Rose said, as she smiled. “But what a wonderful dream. I wish it could come true.”

After breakfast, Rose helped her mother wash dishes. “Mama,” she said. “If you could have anything for Christmas, anything at all, what would you wish for?”

Mama smiled and set the clean plates in the cupboard. “I already have everything I could want — you, your brothers and sisters, and your father, all in good health.”

“I know, but I mean something extra,” Rose said, as she squeezed out the dish towel. “Something wrapped in a box that you could open on Christmas morning. What would it be?”

“Well, it would be a mighty funny-looking box,” said Mama. “But if I could have something extra, I’d wish for a Christmas tree, tall and full, with so many decorations you could hardly see the branches. And a big, plump turkey I could roast with dressing and potatoes.” She leaned against the cupboard and smiled. “And when it was done, we would sit down at the table next to our Christmas tree, and eat the finest Christmas dinner any of us have ever tasted.” She closed her eyes. “I can almost taste it now.”

“And a new dress?” asked Rose. “Would you like a new dress?”

“Yes,” Mama nodded. “A new dress.” Then she shook her head. “But there’s no sense wishing for something you can’t have.”

Papa chuckled. “Looks like Rose isn’t the only dreamer in the family.” He reached for his rifle. “I can’t promise you a turkey, but maybe I can find a fat goose for our Christmas dinner.”

He pulled on his coat and headed toward the woods.

Rose waited for Papa all morning. While she swept the cabin, peeled potatoes, and mended her stockings, she kept peeking out the window to see if Papa would bring home a goose.

Finally, just before noon, Papa tramped out of the woods carrying a gunnysack over his shoulder. Rose threw down her mending and burst out the door.

“Papa, you did it!” she cried. “We’ll have roast goose for Christmas after all.”

Papa laughed. “Not quite, missy.” He opened the sack. “I didn’t see any geese, but I did bring home a pheasant big enough to feed seven hungry McKenzies.”

Papa hung the pheasant under the eaves outside the cabin. Its russet and green feathers gleamed in the sunlight.

“I’ll need to clean it,” Papa said. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together. “First I need to go inside and warm up. Is that your mama’s potato soup I smell?”

Rose followed Papa inside and helped Mama ladle out seven bowls of soup.

While they ate, Rose tried to watch the pheasant. But every time she glanced out the window, Papa said, “Eat your soup.”

After lunch, Rose ran to the window and shouted, “Oh, no! Papa, look. He’s eating our Christmas dinner!”

Rose pointed at a bear that had wandered into the yard and pulled the pheasant down from the eaves.

Papa flung open the door. The bear ran off into the woods. All that remained were a few russet feathers lying in the grass.

The next day was Christmas Eve. After breakfast, Papa, Henry, and James pulled on their boots and coats and set out for the woods.

“Don’t worry,” Papa said. “We’ll have a fine Christmas dinner yet.”

Rose waited by the window. Sarah came and sat down beside her. The sun rose high in the sky. Finally Papa and the boys hiked out of the woods. James carried a gunnysack over his shoulder. Rose and Sarah rushed to the door, and Rose flung it open.

“Did you get another pheasant?” Rose asked.

“Is it as big as the first one?” asked Sarah.

“Not a pheasant,” said Papa, “and not as big.”

James opened the sack and pulled out a small quail. “Birds just aren’t that plentiful this time of year,” said Papa. “But we won’t leave this one under the eaves.” He laughed and said, “That pesky bear can catch his own Christmas dinner.” Papa and the boys cleaned the quail right away and brought it into the house.

Rose stared at the little bird. “But this can’t be our dinner,” she said. “It’s barely enough to feed Bonnie.”

“Nonsense,” said Mama. Then she kissed Papa on the cheek. “It’s exactly enough. Rose, you can help me peel potatoes, carrots, and onions for quail soup. And Sarah, you can help me bake loaves of bread. Then you can both take turns churning fresh butter. This will be the finest meal we’ve eaten in months.”

Mama pulled her big soup kettle from the cupboard and put it on the stove.

The quail soup simmered, and the bread dough baked into crusty brown loaves. Savory aromas filled the cabin. Rose and Sarah churned butter until they were sure their arms would fall off.

Finally, as the sun sank over the mountaintop, Mama said, “Help me set the table, Henry. Dinner’s ready.”

Sarah and James scrambled to their chairs. Rose placed the bread in the center of the table, and Henry set out bowls and spoons. Mama carried the hot soup over from the stove, and Papa held Bonnie in his arms. Then they all bowed their heads to give thanks.

Tap. Tap. Rose looked up. Someone was knocking at the cabin door.

Mama frowned at Papa and said, “Who would be visiting way out here at this time of night?”

Tap. Tap. Papa opened the door. A stranger stood on the step. His eyelids sagged with weariness.

The stranger’s voice quivered. “Could you shelter a hungry traveler from the cold?”

“Of course,” Papa said. He opened the door for the stranger. “You’re just in time for dinner. We don’t have much, but you are welcome to share what we have.”

“Bless you,” said the stranger. “Merry Christmas.”

Mama set an extra place at the table and began ladling out the soup. When she finished filling the eighth bowl — the stranger’s bowl — the soup kettle was empty. “Look at that,” Mama said. She set the bowl in front of the stranger. “We have just enough.”

After dinner, the stranger helped clear the table, then sat in a chair by the fire.

“Where did you come from?” Sarah asked him.

The man chuckled. “I’ve traveled for so long, it’s hard to say just where I’m from. I’ve been to the Great Lakes and to New York City and to the White House. I’ve even met Abraham Lincoln himself.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide. “Abraham Lincoln!” he exclaimed.

The stranger nodded. “Twice. I plan to keep traveling and meeting good folks like yourselves. I want to see the ocean someday, and the Grand Canyon.”

“And the giant redwoods?” asked James.

“And the giant redwoods,” said the stranger. He pulled a harmonica from his pocket and began playing. Papa pushed the table aside and pulled Rose to the center of the floor. Sarah picked up Bonnie, Mama grabbed the boys, and soon everyone was dancing.

The stranger played and played, and Rose’s family danced and danced. Finally, Mama collapsed in a chair. “Time for bed,” she said.

James and Henry piled blankets on the floor by the fire for the stranger, and everyone crawled into bed.

Before Rose closed her eyes, she took one more look out the window. A bright yellow star shot across the sky, leaving a sparkling trail behind it. “Oh!” she cried. Rose stared at the shooting star.

“Please let my family have a wonderful Christmas,” she whispered, “and let Mama have a Christmas tree.”

Dawn peeked over the mountain. Rose opened her eyes. It was Christmas! She would surprise her parents and the traveling stranger by making the coffee before anyone else awoke.

She tiptoed toward the fire. James and Henry were fast asleep, and the stranger was gone! On the floor where he had slept lay a bulging gunnysack.

“Mama! Papa!” Rose shouted. “Look.”

Her parents rushed over, Sarah stumbled out of bed, and the boys sat up on their mattresses. They all stared at the sack.

“It’s filled with presents,” Papa said. He pulled out a box and read the tag. “This one’s for you, Sarah, and this one’s for Mama.”

He passed out the gifts, then he, Mama, Sarah, and the boys began pulling off wrapping paper.

Mama lifted a green lace dress from her box, and Papa opened a shiny, new pipe. James and Henry unwrapped new wool coats, Sarah unwrapped a toy horse, and Mama helped baby Bonnie unwrap the biggest gift of all — a crib, carved and painted, just like in Rose’s dream.

Rose watched in silence. She was happy for her family. Still, the sack was empty, and there was no gift for her. She ran to the window to hide her tears.

“Oh!” she cried. “Look!”

Outside stood a fir tree, full and tall, with beautiful hand-carved decorations. Rose ran out the door. On the tree was a note that said: “To Rose. Merry Christmas.”

“It’s a miracle!” she shouted. “My wish came true. Merry Christmas!”

Today’s story shared from the following website: http://people.howstuffworks.com/culture-traditions/holidays-christmas/christmas-stories-a-christmas-miracle1.htm

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The Counters

As the littlest angel watched over earth, she was amazed at how busy everyone was.
“I wonder what keeps them so busy”, she thought to herself.
Then the head angel came to her and said, “It’s your turn to go to earth”
The littlest angel jumped with joy as she was given the date that she would arrive.
She was so excited that she started counting the days until her arrival.
Later, the head angel checked in on her to see how arrangements were going.
She proudly told him she was counting the days.
“Counting the days?” He asked. “Are you sure that is wise?”
“It must be” She remarked. “I have been watching earth and I have noticed that everyone does it.”
“I see,” said the head angel. “Perhaps we need to take a closer look at things.”
So the littlest angel and the head angel made a trip to earth.
First the head angel pointed out some little boys counting marbles.
One little boy remarked that he was surely the best marble player in all the world – after all he had just won 121 marbles and had not lost a single one.
The littlest angel was very impressed because she could not yet count that high.
Then the head angel showed the littlest angel the same little boy as a young man.
He no longer played marbles. Instead, he was counting his money.
“I am amazing,” he said to himself. “Look at all the money I make. Surely the world will soon take note of me and see how important I am because of all the money I make.”
Next, the head angel showed the littlest angel a young woman.
She was counting how many boys had asked her out on a date.
“Surely I am important because of my beauty,” she said to herself “Look at how many boys want to date me”
On they moved on to some brothers and sisters who belonged to the same family.
One of the girls was heard saying “I have had it. Billy always gets what he wants. I always have to wash the dishes and all he has to do is dust. I counted it up just the other day. Billy has gotten to dust the last three times. I have had to wash dishes five times in a row.”
Then, they moved from the family to a man saying his prayers.
“Please God” he asked “I have worked for the company for 25 years. Bob Johnson has worked for the company only 21 years. Surely I deserve the promotion more than he does.”
On they moved to a young married couple who were having an argument.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” said the young man. “I spend over forty hours a week at work earning money to pay the bills. Why do you have to make such a big deal of it if I forget my socks on the floor once or twice?”
“Once or twice?” Screamed the young woman. “I’ll have you know that I have picked up your socks from off of the floor at least ten times in the last two weeks. That’s 10 times in 14 days. Once or twice is a forgivable offense. 10 times in 14 days means you think that I am your personal slave.”
The littlest angel turned to the head angel “Am I going to have to learn to count like this? She asked.
The head angel said “That will be up to you”
“But I don’t understand” said the littlest angel. “Counting seems to be such an important part of earth life.”
“Counting cannot be all that bad” she said. “Even Heavenly Father counts”
He told me that he knows how many hairs are on the head of each of his children. He knows when a bird loses a feather. I know that He even knows exactly how many children He has.
“Seems like some pretty impressive counting to me,” Said the littlest angel.
“Impressive it is” said the head angel. “Let’s look in on another home.”
They observed the mother of several small children for several days.
“Wow” said the littlest angel “I have been counting and that mother has a lot of things to keep track of. I could barely keep up myself with how many times she changed diapers, fed her children, washed loads of laundry and washed up scraped knees. How does she keep track of all of the counting?’
“She doesn’t” said the head angel.
“Why not?” asked the littlest angel
“She does what she does out of love” said the head angel
“That doesn’t make sense” said the littlest angel “How is she going to know if she is the most important, the most beautiful, the richest, the hardest worker, or even the most powerful?
“She won’t” said the head angel “But it won’t matter to her. She will feel rewarded if her children grow up to be kind, loving adults like she is.”
“Are you kidding me?” asked the littlest angel
“No” said the head angel
“Let’s move on to one more life,” said the head angel
The next life that they saw was that of the Savior.
“Look,” said the littlest angel “He just fed five thousand”
“See, even he counted” said the littlest angel
“He only counted the fish and loaves of bread that he had to divide,” said the head angel. His helpers counted how many were fed.
The littlest angel noted as she observed the life of the Savior how many times he forgave others, how many times he fed others, how many times he taught people to think of their fellow man instead of themselves.
Then she and the head angel watched as the Savior achieved his crowning act in mortality – his death and resurrection.
The littlest angel watched in humble adoration.
She knew that what the Savior had done he had done for every single one of Heavenly Father’s children.
“Oh head angel,” she said, “I think I get it”
“What do you get?” asked the head angel
“The Savior is our example and he is not a counter is he?” said the littlest angel
“No he is not,” Said the head angel
“He wants us to do everything that we do because of love – not because of the reward that we might receive. Kind of like that mom that we watched. She didn’t care how many times she had to do things for her family. She didn’t care because she loved them so much.” Gushed the littlest angel
“So if I am going to be like my Savior, I need to work real hard at not counting.” said the littlest angel.
“That’s right,” said the head angel
“We better return to heaven – I think you will be leaving for your turn on earth very soon” said the head angel.
“That’s okay,” said the littlest angel “but I am not counting the days any more – just let me know when it is my time to go.”

By JoAnna Oblander – Author of A Glimpse of Heaven

 

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