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Surrendered to His Mercy

I recently read a story by a woman who said that as a girl she was poor. She said, “I grew up in a cold water flat, but I married a man who had money. And he took me up to a place where I had flowers, and I had gardens, and I had grass. It was wonderful. And we had children.

“Then suddenly I became physically sick. I went to the hospital, and the doctors ran all sorts of tests. One night the doctor came into my room, and with a long look on his face, said, ‘I'm sorry to tell you this. Your liver has stopped working.'

“I said, ‘Doctor, wait a minute. Wait a minute. Are you telling me that I am dying?' And he said, ‘I, I can't tell you any more than that. Your liver has stopped working. We've done everything we can to start it.' And he walked out.

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Be Still And Know

I thought about this text [Ps 46:10] some months ago as I sat in Sacre-Coeur, a church built atop Montmartre, a high hill overlooking the city of Paris. This marvelous church, built around the turn of the century, is contemporary in many ways, with a great basilica dome containing a pantokrator Christ figure spreading his arms to embrace the people of the city.

There I watched a little peasant woman, dressed all in black, having her meditations in the middle of the day. Her head was bowed at prayer. She was totally oblivious to all the people rushing about the cathedral.

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Ambassador’s Test

George Shultz, when Secretary of State during the Reagan administration, kept a large globe in his office. When newly appointed ambassadors had an interview with him and when ambassadors returning from their posts for their first visit with him were leaving his office, Shultz would test them. He would say, “You have to go over the globe and prove to me that you can identify your country.” They would go over, spin the globe, and put their finger on the country to which sent–unerringly.

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A Boy’s Hope

Several years ago a teacher assigned to visit children in a large city hospital received a routine call requesting that she visit a particular child. She took the boy's name and room number and was told by the teacher on the other end of the line, “We're studying nouns and adverbs in his class now. I'd be grateful if you could help him with his homework so he doesn't fall behind the others.”

It wasn't until the visiting teacher got outside the boy's room that she realized it was located in the hospital's burn unit. No one had prepared her to find a young boy horribly burned and in great pain. She felt that she couldn't just turn and walk out, so she awkwardly stammered, “I'm the hospital teacher, and your teacher sent me to help you with nouns and adverbs.”

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The Power of Friendship

As a part of an assignment for a doctoral thesis, a college student spent a year with a group of Navajo Indians on a reservation in the Southwest. As he did his research he lived with one family, sleeping in their hut, eating their food, working with them, and generally living the life of a twentieth-century Indian.

The old grandmother of the family spoke no English at all, yet a very close friendship formed between the two. They spent a great deal of time sharing a friendship that was meaningful to each, yet unexplainable to anyone else. In spite of the language difference, they shared the common language of love and understood each other.

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