Magi's Gift (Story)

This is inspired by one of my favorite Christmas stories, "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, written in 1906. Times have changed, some situations have not, and Love endures for generations.
Merry Christmas!
~ ESA

Tom and Betty lived with their two daughters in a small Pennsylvania town of Simpson. When they both had jobs, life was grand. They had a little money for a family vacation to the lake, enough to cover the gas on the ATV and even a weekly family walk down the road to McGee's for some ice cream each Sunday.

This year, however, wasn't such a good year. Tom lost his job and increases in rent, gas, food and utilities pinched hard. They didn't have the funds to cover the girl's school pictures in September. It was now December and Christmas was around the corner. They scraped up enough to get the girls a little something, but they were both at a loss of what to get for each other.

An idea blossomed for Betty at one of the firehouse fundraisers. Another volunteer, old Mick, was retiring and looking to sell his light bar. "That would look awesome on Tom's truck!" she exclaimed. "How much?"

Mick shuffled his feet and looked away a moment. The family's finances were no secret in this small town. "I'll be honest with you Betty," he replied once more meeting her gaze. "It cost me a pretty penny. And now that Elizabeth and I are retired, we need the money too. I know I can get at least $150 for it online or at the flea market..."

Betty's face fell.

At the look on her face, Mick's heart gave way to an idea. "Look, Betty. I'll make you a deal. I'll keep it out back until Christmas day. If you somehow get the money, it's yours. If not, I can wait until the New Year to sell it."

Betty was hesitant. But it would look so fine on Tom's pick-up truck. He never missed a call... "OK, Mick" she agreed with a sharp nod. Betty extended her hand; a handshake with your word was as good as a signed contract in this area.

Mick shook her hand with a small smile. "I'll keep you in my prayers, too, Betty. I know Tom would love to have it for his truck."

When Betty got home after the fundraiser, she hurried to her sock drawer and counted out the remainder of the money she saved all year... just shy of $50. "Where am I going to get the rest of the money?" she asked the sober reflection in the mirror.

The next day was Sunday, and following tradition, the family bundled up after Church and walked down the Main Street that afternoon. While McGee's was closed for the season, they still walked down that road, looking in shop windows along the way. Part of the tradition was a stop at the local pawn shop.

Each week, the family would gather around the "new arrivals" case and try to guess which one of their neighbors had previously owned the items.

"Hey, Mom, that look's like Aunt Christine's locket," one the girls cried pointing to a tarnished locket at the back of the case.

Immediately Betty was there, with her warm breath fogging the glass. She brusquely wiped aside the fog with her sleeve and peered again. "It... it IS her locket..." She turned to Tom with tears welling in her eyes, "That's my great-grandma's locket. Christine got it when Mom died and I got the chain that went with it."

She brushed aside the tears as she turned to face the locket again. There it sat, sad and silent in a case, disembodied from the family. Her great-grandmother's picture faded under the case's lights.

Without thinking, Betty hurried to the shop owner. "That locket in your case, how much?"

The man turned with a knowing look on his face. "That there's a genuine family heirloom. Your own family, if I don't know any better. Your sister turned it in this past week. Said she needed the money more."

"I know where it came from. How much?"

A devilish grin turned the corners of his mouth, but a smile never touched his eyes. "I was planning to e-Bay that piece when I got the time to take the digital photos. If I can get the historical documents, it can fetch me a pretty penny for any who deal with antiques such as these... Perhaps I can find a buyer from Philadelphia... Or a museum or such in New York..."

Frustrated as she knew the price would be too much for their meager income, she turned away without the answer. Tom embraced her shoulders in his strong arm and ushered their two girls from the store in silence.

When Betty went to work on Monday, Tom walked back to the pawn shop and approached the man. "OK. You know what I'm here for. How much do you want for it?"

The man smiled from behind the counter. "Twenty bucks will take it off display for thirty days. I can not guarantee that I'll hold it any longer than that."

"What is your asking price?" Tom pressed, all business.

"You really can't afford it, Tom. I know you're out of work."

"Spit it out."

"Seven hundred dollars."

"Bull."

"I can get more at an auction."

"You can't and we both know it. This isn't Betty who's talking to you now."

The man hesitated and shuffled his feet a moment. Then he quickly regained his poise, looked Tom in the eye, "Five hundred."

The bartering began. In the end, Tom shook the man's hand at the final agreement.

Betty had not been inactive that week, herself. She smuggled many of her little treasures into work and sold them to co-workers during the lunch break. She counted the money that Saturday: $105. She needed forty-five dollars more. "Where will I get forty-five bucks more with Christmas in three days?" she asked the woman in the mirror.

Then her eyes fell to the antique chain that was once owned by her great-grandmother. She never forgot that her sister had sold away the matching locket. It disappeared from the case right after that. "He made good on his word," she muttered to the woman in the mirror. "It's long gone."

Gingerly, she picked up the gold necklace. "What good is the chain without its locket?" she asked the sad face in the mirror. "If I get the light bar for Tom's truck, it will keep him safe when he races off like a madman for each call..." She slipped the chain in her pocket.

The next day, she drove down Route 6 to the local flea market before Church and found a buyer for the necklace, eagerly accepting $50 for it.

On the way back, she swung by the Old Mick's house and handed him the full $150 in cash. He stared at it as if he held a miracle in his hands. "I don't know how you did it, Betty. I really don't. But I couldn't be happier to sell it to you and Tom. I know he'll take good care of it for me."

"Do me a favor, Mick. Tom will be out with the girls Christmas Eve to walk around downtown Carbondale and look at the lights. It's when I wrap up the girl's gifts. Can you swing by the house around seven and drop off the light bar then? We can tuck it into the shed out back until Christmas morning. The kids and Tom will be so surprised!"

Mick's face lit up in a grand mischievous smile. "Of course, I can do that for old friends, Betty." They shook hands and then he pulled her into a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, Betty. Merry Christmas."

Christmas morning, dawned bright. In fact, by dawn the girls had already unwrapped the treasures found under the tree and were happily playing with their new gifts, meager though they were.

Betty was in the kitchen surrounded by the sounds and scents of brewing coffee and cooking pancakes. There was no bacon this year, but it didn't matter. There was a house full of Love and Joy this morning. And there was a surprise outside in the shed.

Her hand paused in flipping the pancakes when she heard the truck start up outside. She didn't recall hearing the alarm from the dispatch on the fire-fighter's scanner...

She removed the pan from the heat and stepped through the doorway into the small living room. Shock numbed her as she saw Tom standing there at the front door and the truck -- his TRUCK -- was driving away.

Tom stood for a moment more as he sadly watched the truck drive down the road and disappear onto Main Street. Then he turned toward Betty and wordless extended a small package - beautifully wrapped - toward her. "Merry Christmas, Betty. I know this means the world to you..."

She set down the cooling pan on a plate and accepted the package in shaking hands. "What... What's in it?"

Tom gave her a loving smile and hugged her shoulders, "Why don't you open it and find out, silly?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she undid the ribbon and tore open the wrapping paper. The girls gathered around curiously. There in the box lay her great-grandmother's locket. It shone in the lights of the Christmas tree beside them.

She turned in Tom's arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh TOM! You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have! We can't afford this!"

"I know we didn't have the money, Betty. So I traded my old truck for it. I just got job at the local factory up the street and I can walk there. It won't pay much, but at least we won't have to pay for that old truck... And Billie next door said he'll take me with him on the fire calls, so all will be OK. Trust me... we'll be OK."

She pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked into his loving eyes. There was such a question on his face that she only knew one way to answer. Wordlessly, she gently took his hand, led him through the kitchen and out the back door.

Standing in snow up to their calves, she gestured toward the shed. He could see from the imprint in the snow that someone had opened the shed door recently; the door's arc and footprints were clear in the snow.

Curious, he opened the door... 

Inside was Old Mick's light bar, polished and shining, complete with a bright red bow on the top of it. Tom's head hung down wordlessly as he tried to take it in. Here was a gift he cherished, moreso as it came from an old friend who worked with him through countless calls over the years. Now it was his, to ride atop a truck... that he no longer owned.

He quietly closed the shed door and turned toward Betty. With shining eyes he asked, "How?" 

Betty started sobbing again, hands clenched around the box and it's precious locket inside. "I... I sold a few of my things, Tom...  ...including my great-grandmother's chain. I... I thought that old coot had sold the locket away and we'd never see it again. So I... I sold it at the flea market."

Tom swept his wife into a fierce embrace. "I love you Betty. I love you so much. Here we are a couple of fools trying to get the best gifts we could for each other. I can't ask for a better gift on Christmas than having you for a wife."

Betty hugged him back, equally fierce. "I love you too, Tom, so very much. We ARE a pair of fools, but we've got our girls and each other. I couldn't ask for anything else this Christmas."

Arm-in-arm, they walked back to the back door. Smiling once again in the glow of their mutual love. Inside, two girls peeked out through the kitchen window, wondering what was going on.

There was still The Christmas Story to read, and other stories to tell. This would be one too, to be shared for generations to come.

Magi's Gift (Story)

This is inspired by one of my favorite Christmas stories, "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, written in 1906. Times have changed, some situations have not, and Love endures for generations.

Tom and Betty lived with their two daughters in a small Pennsylvania town of Simpson. When they both had jobs, life was grand. They had a little money for a family vacation to the lake, enough to cover the gas on the ATV and even a weekly family walk down the road to McGee's for some ice cream each Sunday.

This year, however, wasn't such a good year. Tom lost his job and increases in rent, gas, food and utilities pinched hard. They didn't have the funds to cover the girl's school pictures in September. It was now December and Christmas was around the corner. They scraped up enough to get the girls a little something, but they were both at a loss of what to get for each other.

An idea blossomed for Betty at one of the firehouse fundraisers. Another volunteer, old Mick, was retiring and looking to sell his light bar. "That would look awesome on Tom's truck!" she exclaimed. "How much?"

Mick shuffled his feet and looked away a moment. The family's finances were no secret in this small town. "I'll be honest with you Betty," he replied once more meeting her gaze. "It cost me a pretty penny. And now that Elizabeth and I are retired, we need the money too. I know I can get at least $150 for it online or at the flea market..."

Betty's face fell.

At the look on her face, Mick's heart gave way to an idea. "Look, Betty. I'll make you a deal. I'll keep it out back until Christmas day. If you somehow get the money, it's yours. If not, I can wait until the New Year to sell it."

Betty was hesitant. But it would look so fine on Tom's pick-up truck. He never missed a call... "OK, Mick" she agreed with a sharp nod. Betty extended her hand; a handshake with your word was as good as a signed contract in this area.

Mick shook her hand with a small smile. "I'll keep you in my prayers, too, Betty. I know Tom would love to have it for his truck."

When Betty got home after the fundraiser, she hurried to her sock drawer and counted out the remainder of the money she saved all year... just shy of $50. "Where am I going to get the rest of the money?" she asked the sober reflection in the mirror.

The next day was Sunday, and following tradition, the family bundled up after Church and walked down the Main Street that afternoon. While McGee's was closed for the season, they still walked down that road, looking in shop windows along the way. Part of the tradition was a stop at the local pawn shop.

Each week, the family would gather around the "new arrivals" case and try to guess which one of their neighbors had previously owned the items.

"Hey, Mom, that look's like Aunt Christine's locket," one the girls cried pointing to a tarnished locket at the back of the case.

Immediately Betty was there, with her warm breath fogging the glass. She brusquely wiped aside the fog with her sleeve and peered again. "It... it IS her locket..." She turned to Tom with tears welling in her eyes, "That's my great-grandma's locket. Christine got it when Mom died and I got the chain that went with it."

She brushed aside the tears as she turned to face the locket again. There it sat, sad and silent in a case, disembodied from the family. Her great-grandmother's picture faded under the case's lights.

Without thinking, Betty hurried to the shop owner. "That locket in your case, how much?"

The man turned with a knowing look on his face. "That there's a genuine family heirloom. Your own family, if I don't know any better. Your sister turned it in this past week. Said she needed the money more."

"I know where it came from. How much?"

A devilish grin turned the corners of his mouth, but a smile never touched his eyes. "I was planning to e-Bay that piece when I got the time to take the digital photos. If I can get the historical documents, it can fetch me a pretty penny for any who deal with antiques such as these... Perhaps I can find a buyer from Philadelphia... Or a museum or such in New York..."

Frustrated as she knew the price would be too much for their meager income, she turned away without the answer. Tom embraced her shoulders in his strong arm and ushered their two girls from the store in silence.

When Betty went to work on Monday, Tom walked back to the pawn shop and approached the man. "OK. You know what I'm here for. How much do you want for it?"

The man smiled from behind the counter. "Twenty bucks will take it off display for thirty days. I can not guarantee that I'll hold it any longer than that."

"What is your asking price?" Tom pressed, all business.

"You really can't afford it, Tom. I know you're out of work."

"Spit it out."

"Seven hundred dollars."

"Bull."

"I can get more at an auction."

"You can't and we both know it. This isn't Betty who's talking to you now."

The man hesitated and shuffled his feet a moment. Then he quickly regained his poise, looked Tom in the eye, "Five hundred."

The bartering began. In the end, Tom shook the man's hand at the final agreement.

Betty had not been inactive that week, herself. She smuggled many of her little treasures into work and sold them to co-workers during the lunch break. She counted the money that Saturday: $105. She needed forty-five dollars more. "Where will I get forty-five bucks more with Christmas in three days?" she asked the woman in the mirror.

Then her eyes fell to the antique chain that was once owned by her great-grandmother. She never forgot that her sister had sold away the matching locket. It disappeared from the case right after that. "He made good on his word," she muttered to the woman in the mirror. "It's long gone."

Gingerly, she picked up the gold necklace. "What good is the chain without its locket?" she asked the sad face in the mirror. "If I get the light bar for Tom's truck, it will keep him safe when he races off like a madman for each call..." She slipped the chain in her pocket.

The next day, she drove down Route 6 to the local flea market before Church and found a buyer for the necklace, eagerly accepting $50 for it.

On the way back, she swung by the Old Mick's house and handed him the full $150 in cash. He stared at it as if he held a miracle in his hands. "I don't know how you did it, Betty. I really don't. But I couldn't be happier to sell it to you and Tom. I know he'll take good care of it for me."

"Do me a favor, Mick. Tom will be out with the girls Christmas Eve to walk around downtown Carbondale and look at the lights. It's when I wrap up the girl's gifts. Can you swing by the house around seven and drop off the light bar then? We can tuck it into the shed out back until Christmas morning. The kids and Tom will be so surprised!"

Mick's face lit up in a grand mischievous smile. "Of course, I can do that for old friends, Betty." They shook hands and then he pulled her into a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, Betty. Merry Christmas."

Christmas morning, dawned bright. In fact, by dawn the girls had already unwrapped the treasures found under the tree and were happily playing with their new gifts, meager though they were.

Betty was in the kitchen surrounded by the sounds and scents of brewing coffee and cooking pancakes. There was no bacon this year, but it didn't matter. There was a house full of Love and Joy this morning. And there was a surprise outside in the shed.

Her hand paused in flipping the pancakes when she heard the truck start up outside. She didn't recall hearing the alarm from the dispatch on the fire-fighter's scanner...

She removed the pan from the heat and stepped through the doorway into the small living room. Shock numbed her as she saw Tom standing there at the front door and the truck -- his TRUCK -- was driving away.

Tom stood for a moment more as he sadly watched the truck drive down the road and disappear onto Main Street. Then he turned toward Betty and wordless extended a small package - beautifully wrapped - toward her. "Merry Christmas, Betty. I know this means the world to you..."

She set down the cooling pan on a plate and accepted the package in shaking hands. "What... What's in it?"

Tom gave her a loving smile and hugged her shoulders, "Why don't you open it and find out, silly?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she undid the ribbon and tore open the wrapping paper. The girls gathered around curiously. There in the box lay her great-grandmother's locket. It shone in the lights of the Christmas tree beside them.

She turned in Tom's arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh TOM! You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have! We can't afford this!"

"I know we didn't have the money, Betty. So I traded my old truck for it. I just got job at the local factory up the street and I can walk there. It won't pay much, but at least we won't have to pay for that old truck... And Billie next door said he'll take me with him on the fire calls, so all will be OK. Trust me... we'll be OK."

She pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked into his loving eyes. There was such a question on his face that she only knew one way to answer. Wordlessly, she gently took his hand, led him through the kitchen and out the back door.

Standing in snow up to their calves, she gestured toward the shed. He could see from the imprint in the snow that someone had opened the shed door recently; the door's arc and footprints were clear in the snow.

Curious, he opened the door... 

Inside was Old Mick's light bar, polished and shining, complete with a bright red bow on the top of it. Tom's head hung down wordlessly as he tried to take it in. Here was a gift he cherished, moreso as it came from an old friend who worked with him through countless calls over the years. Now it was his, to ride atop a truck... that he no longer owned.

He quietly closed the shed door and turned toward Betty. With shining eyes he asked, "How?" 

Betty started sobbing again, hands clenched around the box and it's precious locket inside. "I... I sold a few of my things, Tom...  ...including my great-grandmother's chain. I... I thought that old coot had sold the locket away and we'd never see it again. So I... I sold it at the flea market."

Tom swept his wife into a fierce embrace. "I love you Betty. I love you so much. Here we are a couple of fools trying to get the best gifts we could for each other. I can't ask for a better gift on Christmas than having you for a wife."

Betty hugged him back, equally fierce. "I love you too, Tom, so very much. We ARE a pair of fools, but we've got our girls and each other. I couldn't ask for anything else this Christmas."

Arm-in-arm, they walked back to the back door. Smiling once again in the glow of their mutual love. Inside, two girls peeked out through the kitchen window, wondering what was going on.

There was still The Christmas Story to read, and other stories to tell. This would be one too, to be shared for generations to come.

Merry Christmas!

~ESA

Easter E-mail

This was sent to me yesterday via e-mail. I generally don't forward or post chain e-mails, but this one felt important enough to merit an exception.

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Subject: The Death of Jesus

For the next 90 seconds, set aside whatever you're doing and take this opportunity!

At the age of 33, Jesus was condemned to the death. At the time crucifixion was the "worst" death; only the worst criminals were condemned to be crucified. Crucifixion is a long, slow painful death, where one is VERY slowly dies through suffocation, blood-loss, infection and/or dehydration,  several hours to several days. The position of the body on a cross does not allow the crucified to breathe easily, due to hyper-extension of the chest muscles and lungs. In Jesus' case, crucifixion also meant being nailed to the cross by His hands and feet. In doing so, He had to alternate between pushing up with his feet/legs against one nail and pulling Himself up by His arms against the other two for each inhale and each exhale.

Each nail was a tapered iron spike 5 to 7 inches (13 to 18 cm) long with a square shaft 3/8 inches (10 mm) across. Whether driven into base of His palms or directly into His wrists, the nails would bite through muscles, tendons and median nerve. This nerve runs through the carpel tunnel of the wrist and extends to the shoulder. The Romans knew that when the nails were hammered into this, it would cause excruciating pain, both in the initial insertion as well as each time Jesus used his arms to pull  His body up to breathe.

Beyond His arms, He was forced to support Himself on the single nail that impaled His feet to the cross. Similar to His arms, pain would radiate from His feet up both His legs and spine, causing not only pain but tremors in the legs. These tremors would quickly exhaust His already tired leg muscles and He would collapse time after time. Each time His body dropped, it tugged on His arms, causing additional pain to run up both His arms from the nails there. 

Between the two, each shift of His body would further the agony in His already lacerated back as it grated against the course wood without even a scrap of cloth for protection. Blood not only trickled from his back but also from His pierced scalp. Before any of the cold iron spikes touched His flesh, he was tortured. His body was beaten. His beard was plucked. His back endured the cruel lashings of the whip where His flesh was literally flayed, some hanging in strips from His body. After which, a thorny crown was placed upon His head and additional strikes were blown.

On the road, his broken, bleeding body was also forced to carry the implement of his death. The crosspiece alone weighed 75-125 pounds (35-60 kg). The whole cross would weigh over 300 pounds (135 kg). On the twisting 1-2 mile journey, the wood dug heavily into His already-lacerated shoulder. Exhaustion and pain were already starting to overwhelm Him on the journey; He fell three times.

Imagine the struggle, the pain, the suffering,... the courage. Jesus endured the reality of the cross for three (3) hours. This was only His physical suffering.

Before the cross, He was betrayed by one of His closest friends. He was handed over to those who mocked Him. He was humiliated, spit upon, falsely accused and carted around like a base criminal. Through this, another of His closest friends denied even knowing Him. The rest fled and hid in terror. He was alone as He endured the lashings, then the humiliation at the hands of Roman soldiers. They dressed him in a purple robe and mocked Him as "King of the Jews."

Then along the walk to Golgotha, He was taunted, cursed, spit upon and humiliated by the crowds. It was not long before this when crowds would gather to listen to His teachings or receive His healing. It was only DAYS before this when the crowds waved palm branches to welcome Him into Jerusalem. Now the crowds turned against Him. His closest followers, save a handful including His mother, were no where to be found. He felt abandoned and alone.

Seeing His mother must have been a thorn to His heart. He loves her dearly, and seeing her tears for His suffering must have added yet an additional ache in His broken heart. When someone sees a loved one crying, they want to do something to stop the tears. He knew there was nothing He could do. All He was going to do was bring even more tears upon the hill of Golgotha. He could not even take her into His arms to comfort her at that moment... There was a journey to finish.

At Golgotha, He was stripped of His clothes - all of them. This was intended by the Romans to bring further shame and humiliation. The soldiers at the foot of the cross gambled over the acquisition of the garment, indicating He was worth less than the bloody, torn cloth to them, as well as leaving Him with nothing in this world other than the torn skin of His body. There is further shame many accounts leave out for the sake of decorum. Nature still had to take place; His body was still fully human. Public bodily releases was also a way the Romans shamed the crucified. 

Can you imagine this kind of suffering? Physical, mental, emotional...

Why?

Because He LOVES us - including you. He went through the worst suffering people could think about at that time, and OVERCAME it all because He did not want eternity in Heaven without us. He opened a way for us that gave us access to God and a return to Paradise.

In Jesus' culture, the only way they understood sin could be cleansed was through a sacrifice. Jesus loved us so much, He said, "Then I will be that sacrifice." He gave up everything He ever had in this world - from a future, to friends at His side, to flesh that surrounded His heart and soul. Even His heart was pierced by a spear in the end.

He trusted God - completely. And thought that complete Trust, Jesus rose from that death. Not a ghost or spirit, but one whom others could touch and examine His wounds. One that shared a journey with them and ate with them. He showed us how far we could go when we trust God completely too ~ through the worst we can possibly imagine and well beyond!

Some would argue that because this happened years - heck millennia! - before our birth, it could not be for our sake. But who on Earth can say with certainty that what God does is limited to time? Even Einstein questioned our concept of time. The door that was opened 2,000 years ago remains open to this day. The Love and gift of Jesus is for all time and beyond!

Please don't ignore this situation; please don't forgo this opportunity.

It is easy to pass jokes or photos by e-mail, but when it comes to God, sometimes we feel ashamed to forward the words to others because we are worried of what they may think about you.

God has plans for you, and is reaching out to you - right now. Show all your friends the gift of Jesus' Love: the open door to God. For the next 60 seconds, set aside what you're doing and take this opportunity! Let's see if Satan can stop this.

All you are asked to do is:

1. Simply pray for the person who sent this message to you.
2. Then, send this message to other people; the more the better. You will give others the opportunity to pray to God too.
3. Take a moment to appreciate the power of God in your life, knowing that while you still breathe, the door is always open.

If you are not ashamed to do this, please, follow this request. Remember Jesus said in Matthew 10:32: "Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before My Father in heaven."

Yes, I love God, Who is my source of life. I love Jesus, who is my Redeemer. If you love God and you are a believer and trust in salvation through Jesus the Christ, send this to all those you love.

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- ESA

Lion and the Little Mouse (Story)

This is a story moved from my other blog. At one time I was able to post a new story almost every Sunday. While I can't do so now, I would like to share this one with you today. Please enjoy...

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Lion and the Little Mouse (c) 2008

One day a little white mouse was scurrying about trying to prepare for the cold dark winter days ahead. She was a tiny thing, even for a mouse, but she had a very big heart.

Before making her own preparations, she stopped to help others first. By the time she started her own preparations, there wasn't much left in reach. The little mouse ranged further and further from the safety of her home looking for what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead.

On one of these long journeys, she broke through the tall golden autumn grass and found herself practically nose to nose with a lion that had been resting there. Her whiskers quivered in fear and a piercing startled squeak leapt from her throat on its own volition.

Her squeak must have awakened the sleeping lion for he opened his golden eyes and gazed calmly at her.

Realizing she had just disturbed the King of all the Animals, the little mouse hunkered down and lowered her round white ears. "I- I'm sorry, Your Great Majesty, for disturbing your rest," she timidly squeaked and quickly turned to scamper off.

The lion's quick paw came down gently but firmly on her little white tail pinning her there, regardless of how fast her paws scrambled against the ground. The poor little mouse was now terrified and she froze in horror with the realization that she was now trapped.

The lion smiled gently and picked the little mouse up by her tail and lightly placed her on his other paw, bringing her closer to his penetrating gaze.

Though sunlight sparkled from his own whiskers, the little mouse couldn't peel her eyes from the sharp white teeth that were now clearly visible.

A gentle chuckle rose from the lion's broad chest. "Don't be afraid, little mouse. I am not hungry nor do I toy with you. What brings such a little mouse so far from her home?"

"Oh, please, Your Majesty! I was just preparing for the dark winter days ahead. All the supplies within reach were already gathered near my home so I had to go further out this year seeking what I need. Please just let me go and I'll be on my way. I did not wish to disturb you."

"And why did you not gather what you needed before now, little mouse?"

"I helped some of my friends and neighbors to make sure they were ready for the cold dark winter days ahead. That is why I had a late start. Again, kind Lion, please let me go and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast, little mouse. Why did you not seek help of your friends and neighbors when you set out to gather your own supplies?"

"I am still young and able. I do not wish to be a burden to anyone as long as I am able to do for myself."

"Ah!" commented the lion. "But now you are far from home and alone. But you are not truly alone; for I am here. I will help you."

"You?!?" squeaked the mouse curling her tiny ears back along her head. "Why would the King of all the Animals want to help a little mouse like me?"

The lion smiled knowingly and lowered the mouse to the ground. "There may be a day when I need your help."

Puzzled the little white mouse tilted her head back to look up at the lion that towered over her; the sunlight danced in his noble mane so very, very far above her. "If there is ever a time when you need my help, I am willing to do so. But you do not need to help me now, Noble Lion."

The lion's smile broadened and his golden eyes sparkled with a secret knowledge. "Even if you believe that now, little mouse, I will help you. It will make your quest easier and you will be ready for the cold dark winter days ahead."

And so the lion helped the little white mouse, lifting her high so she could reach what she needed. He even carried the little mouse and her supplies back to her home.

"I thank you, friend Lion," squeaked the little mouse from her doorway. "And if you ever need any help that I can provide, I will gladly do so. But I still cannot think HOW a little mouse like myself will be able to help the King of all the Animals."

The lion smiled knowingly and nodded his acceptance of her thanks and timid offer of help. "We shall see what the future holds."

Some days later, the lion was out on patrol. The nearby man's village was growing and pushing the animal’s territory into a smaller and smaller area. It was near sundown on this day, and the construction site had been abandoned by the workers. Curious as to what they were doing to the land that was once lived in by the animals he ruled, he wandered among the buildings and poked his whiskered white tipped nose here and there sniffing.

It wasn't long before his great forepaw came down on a small steel roofing nail. At first it didn't hurt as much, but the more he tried to work it out, the deeper the nail bit into his paw. At last the pain was too great and an agonized roar escaped his throat.

All the animals heard their King's roar of pain. They all ran, scampered and trotted toward the sound. But each and every one of the animals stopped at the edge of construction site.

None would dare enter where humans have tread, even to help their King.

The lion by then was in such pain he couldn't walk the distance back to where the animals were. "Please, help me!" begged the lion. "The nail has bitten deep into my paw and I cannot get it out!"

None of the animals moved, but the crowd observing their King's pain grew as more and more animals arrived at the scene. At last the little white mouse also arrived. She had to weave in and out of all the other animals to see what the commotion was about.

When she saw her lion friend hurt in the middle of what man had made, she turned to the other animals. "Can't you see he's in pain? Why has no one gone to help him?"

"Foolish little mouse!" growled the black panther. "That's man's world. Even I will not go there. If that lion decided to enter into man's world, he's on his own. We will not risk own hides to help him."

The little mouse's whiskers quivered in rage. " How can you say that? Isn't he your King as well as mine? I don't care where he is, I'll go over there and help him."

With a swish of her long white tail, she scampered over the embankment and entered the construction site. In a few minutes she was once again before the lion, her sides heaving from the long run.

The lion looked down at the little white mouse with pain in his golden eyes and he looked back across the way at all the gathered animals. "Why is it only you who has come to my aide?" he asked.

"They don't want to enter man's world; they're afraid." She looked around herself with wide panicked eyes. "I'm a bit frightened too, but I remembered my promise to you. I'll help if I can. But I'm so little I don't know if my services will do you any good."

"Yes, you can help, little friend." The lion stretched forth the forepaw. "There is a nail in my paw and it hurts something fierce."

The little mouse scurried over the great paw and tilted her white head as she studied the nail. "It's such a little nail. It's actually a bit smaller than I am." She stood up on her hindpaws and gripped the nail with both forepaws.

Then she pulled with all her might.

The lion hissed a moment as the nail pulled free and then sighed greatly in relief. "Thank you, little friend. That is much better."

He lowered his shoulder to the little mouse. "Get on my back, little mouse. I will carry you home. You have come a great distance to help me." She gratefully hopped on his shoulder and climbed the rest of the way to his spine where she comfortably settled herself at the base of his golden mane. As she rode back through the construction site, she noted the look of all the gathered animals.

They were not happy.

Though they did not want to help the lion, they were not happy that she received special treatment because she did.

She felt even more timid and her tummy started to flutter. "Friend Lion......" she began hesitantly.

"Yes, little mouse?" answered the lion as he gazed over his shoulder at her.

"Can I ask something of you... I'm very grateful for all your help before and for the ride now, but what I did was such a small thing. Please don't treat me any differently than the other animals."

The lion paused and fixed the little white mouse with his golden gaze. "But you are the one who came out to help me where no one else would go."

"To me it doesn't matter. I'd help you out of friendship, not for a reward. Please, Your Majesty, I'm just a little mouse, shy like all my kind. Don't you see the way the others glare in my direction. I'm not comfortable way up high like this. Just let me be me and free, that is what I desire."

"If you are certain, so shall it be, my little friend." So the lion lowered his shoulder and let her scamper down, walking by her side all the way to her home.

At her front door the lion added, "I shall not forget this, friend, even if everyone else does. Call on me if you ever need help again."

The mouse smiled warmly. "Thank you, friend Lion. And if I can ever help you again, don't hesitate to call on me."

And they were good friends ever since.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Much thanks and credit given to Aesop who originally collected a similar story.

I give the reader the right to copy, share and repost this story provided it is not changed and provided you do not gain any monetary profit in doing so.

-ESA

Father to Son (Video)

This was on You Tube for months and was recently taken out by WMG.

This video I made because the words sounded just what God would say to Yeshua/Jesus just before His crucifixion.

Song: Day is Done - Peter, Paul and Mary
Images: Photobucket

All rights are retained by the respective artists. I do not, nor ever have, received funds for this. I produced this out of the Love in my heart.



- ESA

Lion and the Little Mouse (Story)

One day a little white mouse was scurrying about trying to prepare for the cold dark winter days ahead. She was a tiny thing, even for a mouse, but she had a very big heart. Before making her own preparations, she stopped to help others first. By the time she started her own preparations, there wasn't much left in reach.

The little mouse ranged further and further from the safety of her home looking for what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead. On one of these long journeys, she broke through the tall golden autumn grass and found herself practically nose to nose with a lion that had been resting there. Her whiskers quivered in fear and a piercing startled squeak leapt from her throat on its own volition.

Her squeak must have awakened the sleeping lion for he opened his golden eyes and gazed calmly at her. Realizing she had just disturbed the King of all the Animals, the little mouse hunkered down and lowered her round white ears. "I- I'm sorry, Your Great Majesty, for disturbing your rest," she timidly squeaked and quickly turned to scamper off.

The lion's quick paw came down gently but firmly on her little white tail pinning her there, regardless of how fast her paws scrambled against the ground. The poor little mouse was now terrified and she froze in horror with the realization that she was now trapped.

The lion smiled gently and picked the little mouse up by her tail and lightly placed her on his other paw, bringing her closer to his penetrating gaze. Though sunlight sparkled from his own whiskers, the little mouse couldn't peel her eyes from the sharp white teeth that were now clearly visible.

A gentle chuckle rose from the lion's broad chest. "Don't be afraid, little mouse. I am not hungry nor do I toy with you. What brings such a little mouse so far from her home?"

"Oh, please, Your Majesty! I was just preparing for the dark winter days ahead. All the supplies within reach were already gathered near my home so I had to go further out this year seeking what I need. Please just let me go and I'll be on my way. I did not wish to disturb you."

"And why did you not gather what you needed before now, little mouse?"

"I helped some of my friends and neighbors to make sure they were ready for the cold dark winter days ahead. That is why I had a late start. Again, kind Lion, please let me go and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast, little mouse. Why did you not seek help of your friends and neighbors when you set out to gather your own supplies?"

"I am still young and able. I do not wish to be a burden to anyone as long as I am able to do for myself."

"Ah!" commented the lion. "But now you are far from home and alone. But you are not truly alone; for I am here. I will help you."

"You?!?" squeaked the mouse curling her tiny ears back along her head. "Why would the King of all the Animals want to help a little mouse like me?"

The lion smiled knowingly and lowered the mouse to the ground. "There may be a day when I need your help."

Puzzled the little white mouse tilted her head back to look up at the lion that towered over her; the sunlight danced in his noble mane so very, very far above her. "If there is ever a time when you need my help, I am willing to do so. But you do not need to help me now, Noble Lion."

The lion's smile broadened and his golden eyes sparkled with a secret knowledge. "Even if you believe that now, little mouse, I will help you. It will make your quest easier and you will be ready for the cold dark winter days ahead."

And so the lion helped the little white mouse, lifting her high so she could reach what she needed to survive the cold dark winter days ahead. He even carried the little mouse and her supplies back to her home.

"I thank you, friend Lion," squeaked the little mouse from her doorway. "And if you ever need any help that I can provide, I will gladly do so. But I still cannot think HOW a little mouse like myself will be able to help the King of all the Animals."

The lion smiled knowingly and nodded his acceptance of her thanks and timid offer of help. "We shall see what the future holds."

Some days later, the lion was out on patrol. The nearby man's village was growing and pushing the animal’s territory into a smaller and smaller area. It was near sundown on this day, and the construction site had been abandoned by the workers for the day. Curious as to what they were doing to the land that was once lived in by the animals he ruled, he wandered among the buildings and poked his whiskered white tipped nose here and there sniffing.

It wasn't long before his great forepaw came down on a small steel roofing nail. At first it didn't hurt as much, but the more he tried to work it out, the deeper the nail bit into his paw. At last the pain was too great and an agonized roar escaped his throat.

All the animals heard their King's roar of pain. They all ran, scampered and trotted toward the sound. But each and every one of the animals stopped at the edge of construction site. None would dare enter where humans have tread, even to help their King.

The lion by then was in such pain he couldn't walk the distance back to where the animals were. "Please, help me!" begged the lion. "The nail has bitten deep into my paw and I cannot get it out!"

None of the animals moved, but the crowd observing their King's pain grew as more and more animals arrived at the scene.

At last the little white mouse also arrived. She had to weave in and out of all the other animals to see what the commotion was about. When she saw her lion friend hurt in the middle of what man had made, she turned to the other animals. "Can't you see he's in pain? Why has no one gone to help him?"

"Foolish little mouse!" growled the black panther. "That's man's world. Even I will not go there. If that lion decided to enter into man's world, he's on his own. We will not risk own hides to help him."

The little mouse's whiskers quivered in rage. "How can you say that? Isn't he your King as well as mine? I don't care where he is, I'll go over there and help him." With a swish of her long white tail, she scampered over the embankment and entered the construction site.

In a few minutes she was once again before the lion, her sides heaving from the long run. The lion looked down at the little white mouse with pain in his golden eyes and he looked back across the way at all the gathered animals. "Why is it only you who has come to my aide?" he asked.

"They don't want to enter man's world; they're afraid." She looked around herself with wide panicked eyes. "I'm a bit frightened too, but I remembered my promise to you. I'll help if I can. But I'm so little I don't know if my services will do you any good."

"Yes, you can help, little friend." The lion stretched forth the forepaw. "There is a nail in my paw and it hurts something fierce."

The little mouse scurried over the great paw and tilted her white head as she studied the nail. "It's such a little nail. It's actually a bit smaller than I am." She stood up on her hindpaws and gripped the nail with both forepaws. Then she pulled with all her might.

The lion hissed a moment as the nail pulled free and then sighed greatly in relief. "Thank you, little friend. That is much better." He lowered his shoulder to the little mouse. "Get on my back, little mouse. I will carry you home. You have come a great distance to help me."

She gratefully hopped on his shoulder and climbed the rest of the way to his spine where she comfortably settled herself at the base of his golden mane. As she rode back through the construction site, she noted the look of all the gathered animals. They were not happy. Though they did not want to help the lion, they were not happy that she received special treatment because she did. She felt even more timid and her tummy started to flutter. "Friend Lion......" she began hesitantly.

"Yes, little mouse?" answered the lion as he gazed over his shoulder at her.

"Can I ask something of you... I'm very grateful for all your help before and for the ride now, but what I did was such a small thing. Please don't treat me any differently than the other animals."

The lion paused and fixed the little white mouse with his golden gaze. "But you are the one who came out to help me where no one else would go."

"To me it doesn't matter. I'd help you out of friendship, not for a reward. Please, Your Majesty, I'm just a little mouse, shy like all my kind. Don't you see the way the others glare in my direction. I'm not comfortable way up high like this. Just let me be me and free, that is what I desire."

"If you are certain, so shall it be, my little friend."

So once again, the lion carried the little mouse to her home and let her scamper down to her front door. "I shall not forget this, friend, even if everyone else does. Call on me if you ever need help again."

The mouse smiled warmly. "Thank you, friend Lion. And if I can ever help you again, don't hesitate to call on me."

And they were good friends ever since.

- ESA