Stories Of Hope & Inspiration (believing, evolve, POV, advent)
Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
A 24 year old boy seeing out from the train’s window shouted…
“Dad, look the trees are going behind!”
Dad smiled and a young couple sitting nearby, looked at the 24 year old’s childish behavior with pity, suddenly he again exclaimed…
“Dad, look the clouds are running with us!”
The couple couldn’t resist and said to the old man…
“Why don’t you take your son to a good doctor?” The old man smiled and said…“I did and we are just coming from the hospital, my son was blind from birth, he just got his eyes today.”
Every single person on the planet has a story. Don’t judge people before you truly know them. The truth might surprise you.
Once upon a time a daughter complained to her father that her life was miserable and that she didn’t know how she was going to make it. She was tired of fighting and struggling all the time. It seemed just as one problem was solved, another one soon followed.
Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Once the three pots began to boil, he placed potatoes in one pot, eggs in the second pot, and ground coffee beans in the third pot.
He then let them sit and boil, without saying a word to his daughter.
The daughter, moaned and impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing.
After twenty minutes he turned off the burners. He took the potatoes out of the pot and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the boiled eggs out and placed them in a bowl.
He then ladled the coffee out and placed it in a cup. Turning to her he asked. “Daughter, what do you see?”
“Potatoes, eggs, and coffee,” she hastily replied.
“Look closer,” he said, “and touch the potatoes.”
She did and noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Its rich aroma brought a smile to her face.
“Father, what does this mean?” she asked.
He then explained that the potatoes, the eggs and coffee beans had each faced the same adversity– the boiling water.
However, each one reacted differently.
The potato went in strong, hard, and unrelenting, but in boiling water, it became soft and weak.
The egg was fragile, with the thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior until it was put in the boiling water. Then the inside of the egg became hard.
However, the ground coffee beans were unique. After they were exposed to the boiling water, they changed the water and created something new.
“Which are you,” he asked his daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a potato, an egg, or a coffee bean? “
Moral:
In life, things happen around us, things happen to us, but the only thing that truly matters is what happens within us.
I knew at a very young age I should have been born with a female body. I could never put that into words, that concept at the time was not known to me. I was raised in a strict Christian environment, and having these thoughts were sinful, and the worst kind of wrong. At least that is what I heard in church. I internalized this sentiment, and it grew into a fierce hatred, most directed at myself. I prayed to God to make this go away. I prayed for that a lot. I couldn't be a girl, that was impossible, or so I thought. That hatred quickly over took me, and when I was ten I tried to kill myself for the first time, because I thought maybe I needed to do it myself, since God was not taking this away, or letting me die, I needed to do it on my own. So I tried to hang myself in my closet, but when I woke up later, the belt I used was hanging around my neck, and I was laying half in and half out of a box in my closet. I stayed there for most of my life, in that closet. Alone.
In my teens, I turned to booze and drugs. A lot of each. Nikki Six, a guitarist for Motley Crue overdosed a few times. At the height of my drug use, had he have known me, he would have told me to slow down and save some for him. It was that bad, but it kept me numb, which in turn kept me alive.
In my mid twenties, I think I was 24 or so I was at the end of my rope, again. I was tired of being strung out all the time, tired of trying so hard to "act like a man" and failing terribly, tired of dating other women trying to prove to myself that I could do it, essentially using them to try to "be a guy." They usually ended because I wouldn't have sex, the very idea of using that thing made me sick. So I was standing on an over pass one day, I was going to jump, the cars on the freeway below were going pretty fast, I figured it would be over pretty quick. I was finishing a cigarette when this uber preppy looking guy in this crappy red Nova pulled up. I mention these, because he looked so out of place in that car, it was kind of funny, like an 80 year old guy in a Corvette. His name is Bill. He's a great guy, I still consider him one of my best friends, even though we haven't spoken in years. We lost touch a long time ago, and I really have no idea how to find him. Anyway, he and his wife were driving on the freeway. He didn't even see me, but God knew I was there, and told Bill I was getting ready to jump, so Bill, and his wife Jayne (with that spelling, I'm telling you those two did not belong in that car haha) got off the freeway, and came to talk to me. I couldn't tell them why exactly I was going to jump, so I blamed it on the drugs, which was true, but not the whole truth. I wasn't ready to even admit it to myself. I knew that God wasn't going to let me kill myself, no matter what I tried to do, so that was my last attempt, I think. There were so many attempts really, it's hard to keep them straight chronologically, and the drugs kind of affected my memory, so that's kind of shot. I stayed with them for about a year or so, and got off drugs for awhile, but the pressure I was under was too much, so I relapsed.
I stayed drugged until I was 35 or 36, when I moved close to my Mom, she had uterine cancer, and I wanted to be close to her. God helped her beat it, she's doing really well now, we talk on the phone occasionally, but it's strained.When I was 38 I was tired of everything, life, trying to live up to everyone's expectations of me, and I begged God to take this from me or let me die. I knew that coming out would cause me to lose my family, which had been everything to me for as long as I could remember, I come from an incredibly tight knit family, we got together several times a year, we'd come from all over the country and gather at a state park, or Grandpa's house. I loved those reunions, and huge holiday dinners. Poker, football, food and beer, you know. I never got into drinking much, I hate hangovers, but most of my family members are drinkers. Socially, not drunks, you know. I didn't think I'd survive losing them. But something had to give.
I emailed a close friend, and came out to her, sort of to say good bye, I really wanted to die. I apologized for not being honest about who I really am inside, and for causing her pain. We were married about maybe 15 or 16 years before that. I may have been 24 or 25. It lasted a year. She's really the only person I've genuinely loved and trusted. Her name is Michelle. She wrote back about a week later, and told me that I was moving in with her and her family (Her husband, and boys), and she was going to help me come out and get through this. If I didn't come out, and live authentically, I didn't want to live at all. So I moved here, and got into therapy, and slowly started to come out.
I begged God for him to tell me his plan for me, and he's opened doors that I could never open on my own. Forgiving my Dad being one of those things. He was incredibly abusive when I was young. He used to beat me with a 2x4. I carried intense anger for him through most of my life, and one night I was on my bed smoking out my window (cigarettes...tobacco, not pot), and I just started sobbing, uncontrollably. I had no idea why. I honestly felt like my heart was breaking. I was in a panic because I had no idea where it was all coming from, I realized later after I calmed down that it was 40 years of pain leaving me. It was just gone. I know that God took it from me, it's the only rational explanation.
The hate and anger I carried with me through my life was gone, in that moment. God said I didn't need that anymore. So he took it from me.
I came out to my Mom a few months later, she told the rest of the family, and they all agreed that they didn't want me home over holidays, they didn't want to see me. As much as that hurt, God led me through it. That footsteps poem comes to mind. He really did carry me through it, literally. My friends also surrounded me and walked beside me too. Through that process, I slowly began to accept and respect myself, which turned into love. About maybe a year ago was the first time in my life I genuinely loved myself. Which in turn enabled me to love God more deeply, which of course deepened our relationship. He's guided me every step in the coming out and transitioning process. I know he is with me. When we talk, I feel him physically. I finally have the relationship with him, and Christ that I have always wanted. Growing up in the church, I had seen so many great people of faith, and I wanted what they had. I begged God for that, but until I was ready to be honest with myself, and live accordingly, my entire life would be a lie, and God can't move in a person's life, if they can't even be honest with themselves.
So that's where I am today, very much a woman, and very much a sold out Jesus Freak, and loving each new day that he gives me. The pain of living in a male body isn't lessened, but I know God is moving me toward healing, and I can be patient, and know that my healing will be complete on his schedule, and he's handling it, it's all more than I can handle on my own, so I just let him take care of that. I saw my Mom last year, for the first time in three years. She came to see me. My family still doesn't want to see me, and I know it was hard on Mom to see me, but she did it anyway. So I know God is healing that too. But that's probably going to take awhile. It's ok though. I can wait. If I can at least talk to Mom on the phone every couple weeks or so, I can live with that.
BIG FAT GEEK UPDATE. 6/29/2016
Two weeks ago, I went to church for the first time in lots of years. It was what I've needed for so long, MY PASTOR GETS IT!!! (mostly haha...more than enough). There are so many other people there who treat me normally. I'm in a women's study group, and they are so amazing. I still can't believe it's finally happening. This is what I've needed to move forward with not just my walk with Christ, but my whole life.
The following story is from a young women we met over 50 years ago. She has suffered the loss of a son who took his own life. Her great suffering goes on day by day. This what she just wrote.
Gracefully Broken!
I was in Dollar Tree last night and there was a lady and two kids behind me in the LONG line. One was a big kid, one was a toddler. The bigger one had a pack of glow sticks and the baby was screaming for them so the Mom opened the pack and gave him one, which stopped his tears.
He walked around with it smiling, but then the bigger boy took it and the baby started screaming again.
Just as the Mom was about to fuss at the older child, he bent the glow sticks and handed it back to the baby.
As we walked outside at the same time, the baby noticed that the stick was now glowing and his brother said "I had to break it so you could get the full effect from it."
I almost ran because l could hear God saying to me, "I had to break you to show you why I created you. You had to go through it so you could fulfill your purpose."
That little baby was happy just swinging that "unbroken" glow stick around in the air because he didn't understand what it was created to do which was "glow".
There are some people who will be content just "being" but some of us that God has chosen, we have to be "broken". We have to get sick. We have to lose a job. We go through divorce. We have to bury our spouse, parents, best friend, or our child because, in those moments of desperation, God is breaking us but when the breaking is done, then we will be able to see the reason for which we were created.. so when you see us glowing just know that we have been broken but healed by his Grace and Mercy!!!
As a man was passing the elephants, he suddenly stopped, confused by the fact that these huge creatures were being held by only a small rope tied to their front leg. No chains, no cages. It was obvious that the elephants could, at anytime, break away from their bonds but for some reason, they did not.
He saw a trainer nearby and asked why these animals just stood there and made no attempt to get away.
“Well,” trainer said, “when they are very young and much smaller we use the same size rope to tie them and, at that age, it’s enough to hold them. As they grow up, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They believe the rope can still hold them, so they never try to break free.”
The man was amazed. These animals could at any time break free from their bonds but because they believed they couldn’t, they were stuck right where they were.
Like the elephants, how many of us go through life hanging onto a belief that we cannot do something, simply because we failed at it once before?
Failure is part of learning; we should never give up the struggle in life.
I hit the red button in front of me. A light bulb lit up and a buzzzz sound rang out.
My scholastic bowl coach, Ms. Lemon, had just asked the last question of our practice match. The score was tied. And I knew the answer. The question: "Who wrote Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?"
Mrs. Lemon called on me as I started laughing so hard I couldn't get the name "Jules Verne" out.
"Time's up," she said. And then, the other team won.
As I was leaving practice, Ms. Lemon pulled me aside. "You lost that for your team," she said, her voice shaking. "And I know why. Jules Verne made you think of Vern didn't it?"
Everyone at my school knew Vern. He smelled. He wore big work boots and torn shirts every day. And he didn't seem too bright. When Jules Verne came to mind, I was laughing at the idea of Vern writing a book.
"Vern doesn't deserve to be treated that way," Ms. Lemon said. "What makes you think he's so unlovable that he doesn't deserve simple respect?"
I had no answer. Suddenly feeling hot and sweaty, I apologized to her and left. But one word stuck with me for days: unlovable. I kept thinking about all the people in my high school who did seem downright unlovable. There were strange outcasts like Vern. There were mean kids like Justin, the bully who always called me fat. And there were crabby, annoying people like those guys in my algebra study group who never agreed about anything. Clearly, I thought, all of these people are unlovable.
But as a Christian, I'm supposed to love them all.
Perhaps Jesus' toughest teaching is to "love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12: 31, NIV). Sure, that seems easy enough—until you really think about what it means. He didn't say "like" them. He said "love" them. And you don't get to pick who your neighbor is. It's everyone—from Vern to Justin to your little brother who shampoos your hair while you sleep. (OK, maybe only my brother did that.)
Were Jesus' expectations too high? I mean, he never had to go to high school. If so, surely he'd know that it's not so easy to love everybody.
Well, that's a cool thing about Jesus. He wasn't just God on High shouting down orders. He experienced what we experience. When he told us to live a certain way, it was coming from a guy who'd been there. He lived on Earth—and probably knew his share of Verns and Justins. And he had little brothers.
However, Jesus understood two important truths:
1) Everyone is created in God's image. So if we are worthy of love, so is everyone else because of who made them. 2) Because of sin, we're all really unlovable. But Christ changed the rules by offering love, grace and forgiveness (Romans 5:8). If God can love us, surely we can love those around us.
*******(A true story of Robert Fulghum and his 7-year-old daughter Molly)
It was Molly's job to hand her father his brown paper lunch bag each morning before he headed off to work. One morning, in addition to his usual lunch bag, Molly handed him a second paper bag. This one was worn and held together with duct tape, staples, and paper clips.
"Why two bags" Fulghum asked.
"The other is something else," Molly answered.
"What's in it?"
"Just some stuff. Take it with you."
Not wanting to hold court over the matter, Fulghum stuffed both sacks into his briefcase, kissed Molly and rushed off. At midday, while hurriedly scarfing down his real lunch, he tore open Molly's bag and shook out the contents: two hair ribbons, three small stones, a plastic dinosaur, a pencil stub, a tiny sea shell, two animal crackers, a marble, a used lipstick, a small doll, two chocolate kisses, and 13 pennies. Fulghum smiled, finished eating, and swept the desk clean -- into the wastebasket -- leftover lunch, Molly's junk and all.
That evening, Molly ran up behind him as he read the newspaper. "Where's my bag?"
"What bag?"
"You know, the one I gave you this morning."
"I left it at the office. Why?"
"I forgot to put this note in it," she said. "And, besides, those are my things in the sack, Daddy, the ones I really like - I thought you might like to play with them, but now I want them back. You didn't lose the bag, did you, Daddy?"
"Oh, no," he said, lying. "I just forgot to bring it home. I'll bring it tomorrow."
While Molly hugged her father's neck, he unfolded the note that had not made it into the sack:
"I love you, Daddy." Molly had given him her treasures. All that a 7-year-old held dear. Love in a paper sack, and he missed it -- not only missed it, but had thrown it in the wastebasket. So back he went to the office. Just ahead of the night janitor, he picked up the wastebasket and poured the contents on his desk. After washing the mustard off the dinosaurs and spraying the whole thing with breath-freshener to kill the smell of onions, he carefully smoothed out the wadded ball of brown paper, put the treasures inside and carried it home gingerly, like an injured kitten. The bag didn't look so good, but the stuff was all there and that's what counted.
After dinner, he asked Molly to tell him about the stuff in the sack. It took a long time to tell. Everything had a story or a memory or was attached to dreams and imaginary friends. Fairies had brought some of the things. He had given her the chocolate kisses, and she had kept them for when she needed them.
"Sometimes I think of all the times in this sweet life," Fulghum concludes the story, "when I must have missed the affection I was being given. A friend calls this 'standing knee deep in the river and dying of thirst'."
We should all remember that it's not the destination that counts in life -- it's the journey.
A shop owner placed a sign above his door that said: “Puppies For Sale.”
“How much are you going to sell the puppies for a young boy asked?”
The store owner replied, “Anywhere from $30 to $50.”
The little boy pulled out some change from his pocket. “I have $2.37,” he said. “Can I please look at them?”
The shop owner smiled and whistled. Out of the kennel came Lady, who ran down the aisle of his shop followed by five teeny, tiny balls of fur.
One puppy was lagging considerably behind. Immediately the little boy singled out the lagging, limping puppy and said, “What’s wrong with that little dog?”
The shop owner explained that the veterinarian had examined the little puppy and had discovered it didn’t have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame.
The little boy became excited. “That is the puppy that I want to buy.”
The shop owner said, “No, you don’t want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I’ll just give him to you.”
The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the store owner’s eyes, pointing his finger, and said;
“I don’t want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I’ll pay full price. In fact, I’ll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for.”
The shop owner countered, “You really don’t want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies.”
To his surprise, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked up at the shop owner and softly replied, “Well, I don’t run so well myself, and the little puppy will need someone who understands!”
Please register to post and access all features of our very popular forum. It is free and quick. Over $68,000 in prizes has already been given out to active posters on our forum. Additional giveaways are planned.
Detailed information about all U.S. cities, counties, and zip codes on our site: City-data.com.
Please register to participate in our discussions with 2 million other members - it's free and quick! Some forums can only be seen by registered members. After you create your account, you'll be able to customize options and access all our 15,000 new posts/day with fewer ads.
