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Heaven -- as written by a 17-yr. old. - Story!

Sunday, June 13, 2010

This is excellent and really gets you thinking about what will happen in
Heaven. 17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a
class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told
his father, Bruce. It's a killer. It's the bomb It's the best thing I ever
wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while
cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway
County. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every
piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about
encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of
the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce
Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.

It makes such an impact that people want to share it. "You feel like you
are there," Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after
Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went
off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He
emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was

The Moore 's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family
portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I
think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore
said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of
life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll
see him.

Here is Brian's essay entitled:

" The Room.."

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with
small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list
titles by author or subject in alphabetical order, but these files, which
stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction,
had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one
that read "Girls I have liked. "I opened it and began flipping through the
cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names
written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I
was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system
for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and
small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and
curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly
opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet
memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look
over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."
The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have
Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed

Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my
brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger",
"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to
be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than
expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer
volume of the life I had lived.

Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these
thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched," I realized
the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly,
and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I
shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast
time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run
through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test
its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt
sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage
broke on me.

One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one
must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy, I
yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and
burn the cards...

But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could
not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only
to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and
utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead
against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."
The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I
pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell
into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt.
They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and
cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The
rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever,
ever know of this room.. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I
pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly
as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch
His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face,
I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the
worst boxes.

Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from
across the room.. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a
pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my
hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He
could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried
with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.. Starting at one end
of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name
over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find
to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.. His name shouldn't
be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and
so alive.

The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood He gently
took the card back He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I
don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next
instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my
side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.
There were still cards to be written.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever
believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

If you feel the same way forward it to as many people as you can so the
love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel
with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

  Member Comments About This Blog Post:

DOINFINE 6/17/2010 1:19PM

    This essay really brought tears to my eyes. It makes you stop and think about how you spend your time, and for Whom. Thank you for this touching story. emoticon

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KATHYJO56 6/14/2010 1:50PM

    This boy lived and died about 10 miles from my home. Our local paper ran this essay not so long after his death. It affected me then and it affects me to this day. This was an incredible story and Brians card for "Sharing the Gospel" would contain more names than any of us could even count.

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DEE107 6/14/2010 8:06AM

    Thanks Bwsty for sharing

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CARTOONB 6/13/2010 11:11PM

    Wow! Great story! Thank you for sharing.

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Brace yourself for this one.- Story

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.
; Proverbs 3:5-6

I was walking around in a WalMart store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back.

The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old..

The Cashier said, 'I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll.'

Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?''

The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.''

Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly.

The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand..

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to.

'It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas.

She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.'

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly. 'No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there.'

His eyes were so sad while saying this.. '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.''

My heart nearly stopped.

The little boy looked up at me and said: 'I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall.'

Then he showed me a very nice photo of himself. He was laughing. He then told me 'I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me.'

'I love my mommy and I wish she didn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.'

Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. 'Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll!''

OK' he said, 'I hope I do have enough.' I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money..

The little boy said: 'Thank you God for giving me enough money!'

Then he looked at me and added, 'I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give it to my sister. He heard me!''

'I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much.. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.''

'My mommy loves white roses.'

A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket.

I finished my shopping in a totally different state of mind from when I started.

I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl.

The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the news paper that the young woman had passed away.

I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was for people to see and make last wishes before her burial.

She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest.

I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed for ever.. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine.

And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

Now you have 2 choices:
1) Send this message to others, or
2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart.

The quote of the month is by Jay Leno: 'With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to the other, and with the threat of swine flu and terrorist attacks, 'Are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?'

God Bless!!!

  Member Comments About This Blog Post:

DEE107 6/13/2010 12:21AM

    thanks for sharing

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CARTOONB 6/12/2010 10:48PM

    You made me cry. emoticon

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KIN59VARA 6/12/2010 8:38PM

    Good story!

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Moment by Moment - This is the song I woke up singing this morning!

Friday, June 11, 2010

Dying with Jesus, by death reckoned mine;
Living with Jesus, a new life divine;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine,
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.

Moment by moment I’m kept in His love;
Moment by moment I’ve life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.

Never a trial that He is not there,
Never a burden that He doth not bear,
Never a sorrow that He doth not share,
Moment by moment, I’m under His care.


Never a heartache, and never a groan,
Never a teardrop and never a moan;
Never a danger but there on the throne,
Moment by moment He thinks of His own.


Never a weakness that He doth not feel,
Never a sickness that He cannot heal;
Moment by moment, in woe or in weal,
Jesus my Savior, abides with me still.




“It was during the great World’s Fair evangelistic campaign. Mr. Moody and his workers were gathered at the close of the day, as their custom was, in the famous evangelist’s room, for a word of prayer together. The hymn, “I need Thee every hour,” had been announced.

When the singing of it ceased, Mr. Henry Varley, the English evangelist, said: I’m not sure that I can subscribe heartily to that sentiment. I feel that I need Christ moment by moment.

The thought impressed Major D. W. Whittle, and at the close of the prayer season he went to his room, and, prompted by the Holy Spirit, he wrote and rewrote and wrote again, and at 2 o’clock in the morning the new song was in complete form.

Date: 1893
Author: Daniel W. Whittle
May W. Moody

  Member Comments About This Blog Post:

CDAWN26 6/11/2010 10:21AM

    Thanks for sharing and the story about the song. I don't believe I've heard that one before. Love it! emoticon

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DEE107 6/11/2010 8:36AM

    thanks for sharing

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DBELLE39 6/11/2010 7:56AM

    Thanks for the story behind such a beautiful song.

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Great Message! - Story

Thursday, June 10, 2010

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole
which she carried across her neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always
delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot
arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only
one and a half pots of water.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable
that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the
woman one day by the stream.

'I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak
out all the way back to your house.'

The old woman smiled, 'Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of
the path, but not on the other pot's side?'

'That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower
seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water

For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate
the table.

Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to
grace the house.'

Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each
have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.

You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good
in them.

So, to all of my cracked pot friends, have a great day and remember to smell
the flowers on your side of the path!

  Member Comments About This Blog Post:

CARTOONB 6/10/2010 11:21PM

    From one cracked pot to another...great message! Always good to hear!

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LOVESLIFE48 6/10/2010 5:38PM

    I love it!! Thanks for sharing!! emoticon

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This almost sounds too close to the truth!

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

When asked by a young patrol officer " Do You know you were speeding " ?

This 83-year-old woman talked herself out of a ticket by stating ......

"Yes , but....I had to get there before I forgot where I was going".

Makes perfectly good sense to me.....

"In God We Trust"

  Member Comments About This Blog Post:

MUSIC66 6/10/2010 6:07AM

    it makes sense to me also.

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STEVENGO2 6/9/2010 12:55PM

    With my Mom,age 76, still driving to work every week day, this is an excellent blog! emoticon

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DOINFINE 6/9/2010 12:35PM

    I understand completely! Thanks for the chuckle! Love the picture too!

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IAM_HIS2 6/9/2010 12:21PM

    Thanks for this great blog. Made my day!!!

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DEE107 6/9/2010 11:58AM


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LOVESLIFE48 6/9/2010 11:42AM

    Makes sense to me too!! Just hope my 18 year old son doesn't think so!!

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JUNIAATROME 6/9/2010 11:42AM

    Makes perfect sense!

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PAMNANGEL 6/9/2010 11:31AM

    Perfectly logical.

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TINK33 6/9/2010 11:24AM

    Love it! :) Thanks for the grin!

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FIT4MYLIFETIME 6/9/2010 11:17AM


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MTF1955 6/9/2010 11:17AM

    makes sense to me too!!

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