Heartwarmers

Miracle of Records London WWII

​During the fire bombing of London during World War II, at least two miracles took place.

The Public Record Office housed thousands upon thousands of irreplaceable documents, such as census records.  Some documents dated back for a thousand years.  Firewatchers on the roof of the building were able to extinguish the magnesium bombs that landed there, but the building itself was completely surrounded by fire.  Only a few of the records were damaged by the water from the firemen's hoses.

Somerset House contained millions of records of births, marriages and deaths, probate records, and many other records of great value.  The building is in the form of a rectangle with a quadrangle in the middle.  In one raid, the Germans dropped high explosives, and one bomb dropped in the quadrangle and went through the floor into the vaults where all the original records were stored.  Fortunately, the bomb did not explode, and the records were saved for the use and benefit of future generations.

​Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

Wishing to encourage her young son's progress on the piano, a mother took her boy to a Paderewski concert.  After they were seated, the mother spotted an old friend in the audience and walked down the aisle to greet her

Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the concert hall, the little boy rose and eventually explored his way through a door marked "NO ADMITTANCE."

When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that the child was missing

Suddenly, the curtains parted and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway on stage

In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

At that moment, the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy's ear, "Don't quit. ""Keep playing."

Then, leaning over, Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part.  Soon his right arm reached around to the other side of the child, and he added a running obbligato.

Together, the old master and the young novice transformed what could have been a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience.

The audience was so mesmerized that they couldn't recall what else the great master played.  Only the classic, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."

Perhaps that's the way it is with God.

What we can accomplish on our own is hardly noteworthy.

We try our best, but the results aren't always graceful flowing music. n However, with the hand of the Master, whispering in your ear, "Don't quit." "Keep playing."

May you feel His arms around you and know that His hands are there, helping you turn your feeble attempts into true masterpieces.

Remember, God doesn't seem to call the equipped, rather, He equips the 'called.'
​

Two Babies in a manger

​In 1994, Two Americans answered the invitation from the Russian Department of Education to teach morals and ethics (based on Biblical Principles) in the public schools.  They were invited to teach at businesses, fire & police departments and a large orphanage.  About 100 boys and girls who had been abandoned, abused and left in care of government-run programs were in the orphanage.  They related the following story in their own words.
*******************************************************************************************************************************    .          It was nearing the holiday season, 1994, time for our orphans to hear, for the first time, the traditional story of christmas.  We taught them about Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem.  Finding no room in the inn, the couple went to a stable, where the baby Jesus was born and placed in a manger.
.          Throughout the story, the children and the orphanage staff sat in amazement as they listened.  Some sat on the edge of their stools, trying to grasp every word.  Completing the story, we gave the children three pieces of cardboard to make a crude manger.  Each child was given a paper square, cut from yellow napkins I had brought with me.  No paper was available in the city.  Following the instructions the children tore the paper and carefully laid strips in the manger for straw.  Small squares of flannel, cut from a worn-out night gown, an American lady was throwing away as she left Russia, were used for the baby's blanket.  A doll like baby was cut from tan paper we had brought from the United States.
.          The orphans were busy assembling their mangers as I walked among them to see if they needed any help.  All went well until I got to one table where little Misha sat.  He looked to be about 6 years old and had finished his project.  As I looked at the little boy's manger I was startled to see not one, but two babies in the manger!  Quickly I called for the translater to ask the lad why their was two babies in the manger.
.          Crossing his arms in front of him and looking at the completed manger scene, the child began to repeat the story very seriously.  For such a young boy, who had only heart the christmas story once, he related the happening accurately until he came to the part where Mary put the baby Jesus in the Manger.  Then Misha started to ad-lib.  He made up his own ending to the story as he said, "and when Maria laid the baby in the manger, Jesus looked at me and asked if I had a place to stay.  I told him I have no mamma and no papa, so I didn't have any place to stay.  Then Jesus told me I could stay with him.  But I told him I couldn't because I didn't have a gift to give him like everybody else did.
.          But I wanted stay with Jesus so much, so I thought about what I had that maybe I could use for a gift.  I thought that maybe I kept him warm, that would be a good gift.  So I asked Jesus, 'if I keep you warm, will that be a good enough gift?'  and Jesus told me, 'If you keep me warm, that will be the best gift anyone ever gave me.,"  so I got into the manger, and then Jesus looked at me and told me I could stay with...for always.
.          As little Misha finished his story, his eyes brimmed full of tears that splashed down his little cheeks.  Putting his hands over his face, his head dropped to the table and his shoulders shook as he sobbed and sobbed.  The little orphan had found someone who would never abandon nor abuse him;  someone who would stay with him FOR ALWAYS.

The Best Christmas
​
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their
means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who
were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from
him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
           It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the
world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy
me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that
night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the
fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling
sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read
Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and
went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the
chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in
self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there
was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold
out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle
for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly
reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't
think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like
this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when
he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and
got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened
the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..
          Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the
work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going
to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We
never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was
already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside
him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on,
Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed.
He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he
said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job
than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was
we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
          After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came
out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down
from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting.
What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you
doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen
lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so
before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd
been by, but so what?  Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in
the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That
was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for
another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I
began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called
a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a
big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them
in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour
over his r ight shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes.
Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out
in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It
just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
          We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to
think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards.
Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now
was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and
split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could
spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them
shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had
closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
          We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as
quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.
We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
          Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped
around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were
sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave
off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the  lamp.
          "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of
flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had
the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair
at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children -
sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully.
She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her
eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say
something, but it wouldn't come out.
          "We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said,
"Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size
and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to
bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as mu ch as I hate to
admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those
three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there
with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart
that she couldn't speak.
          My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my
soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had
made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives  of these people.
          I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids
started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen
looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long
time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the
Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send
one of his angels to spare us."
          In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up
in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but
after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I
was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started
remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and
many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
          Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed
when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then
I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would
make sure he got the right sizes.
          Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to
leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They
clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their
Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
          At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to
invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey
will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous
if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about
eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here,
hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two
brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
          Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to
say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't
even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said,
"Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a
little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for
you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a
little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me
were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I
started into town this morning to do just that,but on the way I saw little
Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny
sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a
little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
          I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very
well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on
my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the
look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
          For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a
block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I
felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a
rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.