to INSPIRATIONS a page that will hopefully inspire, encourage, and entertain you.








It was to be our second Christmas in Germany and we decided to avoid the naked tree problem that we had the year before. We tried ordering an artificial tree from the States, only to learn that the packaging was too big to send through the A.P.O. mail system. We then wrote to my father, and he agreed to purchase a tree for us. He would ship it to us in several smaller boxes.

Two days before Christmas we were in a panic. All the boxes that my father had sent us had arrived except for one. The tree trunk and stand were still missing. We rushed out to buy a live tree, only to find what was left on the tree lot at that late date made the tree from the year before look great. We decided to wait one more day.

Meanwhile, in Bremerhaven, a young mail clerk spotted a long thin box under a counter. He picked it up and saw the customs tag which read 'artificial Christmas tree trunk and stand'. He realized that someone in Mannheim would be without a tree for Christmas. He felt sorry for them, but there wasn't much he could do. It took at least a day to process the mail and get it to Mannheim. He was closing up now and there was no delivery on Christmas.

He put the package on the proper shelf and headed to the snack bar for a cup of coffee. The place was crowded and he ended up sharing a table. Two men were speaking and the clerk discovered that one of his companions at the table was stationed in Mannheim. He had just picked up the car he had shipped from the States and was driving back that afternoon. The clerk thought of the package and said to the man, "You could really play Santa for someone in Mannheim tonight if you'd like to." He explained about the lost tree trunk. The man agreed to deliver it and the two walked to the mail room to retrieve the package. Back in Mannheim, we were frantically trying to devise some way to put our tree together. We were thinking of chicken wire and drilled broom handles, but couldn't come up with a workable solution. By dinner time we gave up.

It looked as if we were doomed to settle for the dregs of the Boy Scout lot or no tree at all. My husband was reaching for his coat when the door bell rang. There stood a stranger holding a long thin carton, our tree trunk. He explained about the clerk and the snack bar meeting. We invited him in, but it was Christmas Eve and he was in a hurry to get home to his own family.

He left quickly before we had a chance to get his name.

We never did find out who they were, our Santa with the package, or the thoughtful mail clerk in Bremerhaven. The next day as we watched our little boy's eyes light up at the sight of our beautiful tree, I whispered a little prayer:

"Please Dear God, bless those two strangers who brightened our Christmas with their kindness."







One night, at 11:30 pm, an older African-American woman was standing on the side of a Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rain storm.
Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.

Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.
A young white man stopped to help her-generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s.
The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxi cab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry!
She wrote down his address, thanked him and drove away.
Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door.
To his surprise, a giant combination console color TV and stereo record player were delivered to his home.
A special note was attached.
The note read:

Dear Mr. James:
Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night.
The rain drenched not only my clothes but my spirits.
Then you came along.
Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away.
God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Nat King Cole.







God has a way of allowing us to be in the right place at the right time.

I was walking down a dimly lit street late one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to listen, and panicked when I realized that what I was hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle: heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric. Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked.

Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety, and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night. What if I became another statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone and call the police? Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in my head had taken only seconds, but already the girl's cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant risking my own life.

I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I don't know where I found the moral courage and physical strength---but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped.

Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting to frighten her further, I at first spoke to her from a distance.

"It's OK," I said soothingly. "The man ran away. You're safe now." There was a long pause and then I heard the words, uttered in wonder, in amazement. "Dad, is that you?" And then, from behind the tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.







Ruth went to her mail box and there was only one letter.
She picked it up and looked at it before opening, but then she looked at the envelope again.
There was no stamp, no postmark, only her name and address.
She read the letter:

Dear Ruth,

I'm going to be in your neighborhood Saturday afternoon and I'd like to stop by for a visit.

Love Always,
Jesus

Her hands were shaking as she placed the letter on the table.
"Why would the Lord want to visit me?
I'm nobody special.
I don't have anything to offer."
With that thought, Ruth remembered her empty kitchen cabinets.
"Oh my goodness, I really don't have anything to offer.
I'll have to run down to the store and buy something for dinner."
She reached for her purse and counted out its contents.
Five dollars and forty cents.
"Well, I can get some bread and cold cuts, at least."
She threw on her coat and hurried out the door.
A loaf of french bread, a half-pound of sliced turkey, and a carton of milk...leaving Ruth with a grand total of twelve cents to last her until Monday.
Nonetheless, she felt good as she headed home, her meager offerings tucked under her arm.
"Hey lady, can you help us, lady?"
Ruth had been so absorbed in her dinner plans, she hadn't even noticed two figures huddled in the alleyway.
A man and a woman, both of them dressed in little more than rags.
"Look lady, I ain't got a job, ya know, and my wife and I have been living out here on the street, and, well, now it's getting cold and we're getting kinda hungry and, well, if you could help us, lady, we'd really appreciate it."
Ruth looked at them both.
They were dirty, they smelled bad and, frankly, she was certain that they could get some kind of work if they really wanted to.
"Sir, I'd like to help you, but I'm a poor woman myself.
All I have is a few cold cuts and some bread, and I'm having an important guest for dinner tonight and I was planning on serving that to Him."
"Yeah, well, okay lady, I understand. Thanks anyway."
The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders, turned and headed back into the alley.
As she watched them leave, Ruth felt a familiar twinge in her heart.
"Sir, wait!"
The couple stopped and turned as she ran down the alley after them.
"Look, why don't you take this food.
I'll figure out something else to serve my guest."
She handed the man her grocery bag.
"Thank you lady. Thank you very much!"
"Yes, thank you!" It was the man's wife, and Ruth could see now that she was shivering.
"You know, I've got another coat at home.
Here, why don't you take this one."
Ruth unbuttoned her jacket and slipped it over the woman's shoulders. Then smiling, she turned and walked back to the street...without her coat and with nothing to serve her guest.
Thank you lady!
Thank you very much!"
Ruth was chilled by the time she reached her front door, and worried too.
The Lord was coming to visit and she didn't have anything to offer Him.
She fumbled through her purse for the door key.
But as she did, she noticed another envelope in her mailbox.
"That's odd. The mailman doesn't usually come twice in one day."
She took the envelope out of the box and opened it.

Dear Ruth:

It was very nice visiting you today.
Thank you for the delicious meal, and the coat which kept me warm all night.

Love always,

Jesus







Firefighter In Phoenix, AZ. a 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's dreams to come true. She took her son's hand and asked, "Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?"

Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up."

Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true."

Later that day she went! to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire engine.

Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat-not a toy one-with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast."

Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic's van, and even the fire chief's car.

He was also videotaped for the local news program. Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible.

One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the! Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition. The chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room?"

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window. 16 firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billy's room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him.

With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, Chief, am I really a fireman now?" Billy, you are, and the Head Chief, Jesus, is holding your hand," the chief said. With those words, Billy smiled and said, "I know, He's been holding my hand all day, and the angels have been singing." He closed his eyes one last time.