The Story Book – Got Inspired

This story might strengthen our faith! May God! They tell the story of a
mountain climber, desperate to conquer the Aconcagua, initiated his
climb after years of preparation.

But he wanted the glory to himself;
therefore, he went up alone. He started climbing and it was becoming
later and later. He did not prepare for camping but decided to keep on
going. Soon it got dark . . . Night fell with heaviness at such high
altitude and there was zero visibility.

Everything was black, no moon,
and the stars covered by clouds. As he was climbing a ridge at about
100 meters from the top, he slipped and fell. Falling rapidly he could
only see blotches of darkness that passed in the same darkness and
a terrible sensation of being suctioned by gravity.

He kept falling and
in those anguishing moments’ good and bad memories passed
through his mind. He thought he would die. Nevertheless, he felt a jolt
that almost tore him in half. Like any good mountain climber he had
staked himself with a long rope tied to his waist.

In those moments of
stillness, suspended in the air he had no other choice but to shout,
“HELP ME GOD”, “HELP ME!” All of a sudden he heard a deep voice
from heaven. “What do you want me to do?” “SAVE ME” “Do you
REALLY think that I can save you?” “OF COURSE, MY GOD” “Then
cut the rope that is holding you up.” There was another moment of
silence and stillness. The man held tighter to the rope. The rescue
team says that the next day they found, a frozen mountain climber
hanging strongly to a rope TWO FEET off the ground . . .

What about you? How trusting are you in that rope? Why don’t you let
it go? I tell you, God has great and marvellous things for you.

CUT THE ROPE AND SIMPLY TRUST IN HIM.

There is an old Chinese tale about a woman whose only son died. In
her grief, she went to the holy man and said, “What prayers, what
magical incantations do you have to bring my son back to life?”

Instead of sending her away or reasoning with her, he said to her,
“Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow.
We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life.” The woman went off
at once in search of that magical mustard seed.

She came first to a splendid mansion, knocked at the door, and said,
“I am looking for a home that has never known sorrow. Is this a
place? It is very important to me.”

They told her, “You’ve certainly come to the wrong place,” and began
to describe all the tragic things that recently had befallen them.

The woman said to herself, “Who is better able to help these poor,
unfortunate people that I, who have had misfortune of my own?” She
stayed to comfort them, and then went on in search of a home that
had never known sorrow. But wherever she turned, in hovels and in
other places, she found one tale after another of sadness and
misfortune. She became so involved in ministering to other people’s
grief that ultimately she forgot about her quest for the magical
mustard seed, never realizing that it had, in fact, driven the sorrow out
of her life.

An eight-year-old child heard her parents talking about her little
brother. All she knew was that he was very sick and they had no
money left. They were moving to a smaller house because they could
not afford to stay in the present house after paying the doctor’s bills.
Only a very costly surgery could save him now and there was no one
to loan them the money.

When she heard her daddy say to her tearful mother with whispered
desperation, ‘Only a miracle can save him now’, the little girl went to
her bedroom and pulled her piggy bank from its hiding place in the
closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it
carefully.

Clutching the precious piggy bank tightly, she slipped out the back
door and made her way six blocks to the local drugstore. She took a
quarter from her bank and placed it on the glass counter.

“And what do you want?” asked the pharmacist.

“It’s for my little brother,” the girl answered back. “He’s really very sick
and I want to buy a miracle.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the pharmacist.

“His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his
head and my daddy says only a miracle can save him. So how much
does a miracle cost?”

“We don’t sell miracles here, child. I’m sorry,” the pharmacist said,
smiling sadly at the little girl.

“Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn’t enough, I can try and
get some more. Just tell me how much it costs.”

In the shop was a well-dressed customer. He stooped down and
asked the little girl, “What kind of a miracle does you brother need?”
“I don’t know,” she replied with her eyes welling up. “He’s really sick
and mommy says he needs an operation. But my daddy can’t pay for
it, so I have brought my savings”.

“How much do you have?” asked the man.

“One dollar and eleven cents; but I can try and get some more”, she
answered barely audibly.

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man, “A dollar and eleven
cents – the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.”

He took her money in one hand and held her hand with the other. He
said, “Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet
your parents. Let’s see if I have the kind of miracle you need.”
That well-dressed man was Dr Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon,
specialising in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without
charge and it wasn’t long before Andrew was home again and doing
well.

“That surgery,” her mom whispered, “was a real miracle. I wonder
how much it would have cost.”

The little girl smiled. She knew exactly how much the miracle cost …
one dollar and eleven cents … plus the faith of a little child.

Perseverance can make miracles happen!

Always remember those who serve you.

In the days, when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 years
old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put
a glass of water in front of him.

“How much is an ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins
in it.

“Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired.

By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was
growing impatient.

“Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins.

“I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and
walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and
left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped
down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two
nickels and five pennies.

You see he couldn’t have the sundae, because he wanted enough left
to leave her a tip.

During the course of World War II, many people gained fame in one
way or another. One man was Butch O’Hare. He was a fighter pilot
assigned to an aircraft carrier in the Pacific. One time his entire
squadron was assigned to fly a particular mission. After he was
airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had
forgotten to top off his fuel tank. Because of this, he would not have
enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship. His
flight leader told him to leave formation and return. As he was
returning to the mother ship, he could see a squadron of Japanese
Zeroes heading toward the fleet to attack. And with all the fighter
planes gone, the fleet was almost defenceless. His was the only
opportunity to distract and divert them. Single-handily, he dove into
the formation of Japanese planes and attacked them. The American
fighter planes were rigged with cameras, so that as they flew and
fought, pictures were taken so pilots could learn more about the
terrain, enemy manoeuvres, etc. Butch dove at them and shot until all
his ammunition was gone, then he would dive and try to clip off a
wing or tail or anything that would make the enemy planes unfit to fly.
He did anything he could to keep them from reaching the American
ships. Finally, the Japanese squadron took off in another direction,
and Butch O’ Hare and his fighter, both badly shot up, limped back to
the carrier. He told his story, but not until the film from the camera on
his plane was developed, did they realize the extent he really went to,
to protect his fleet. He was recognized as a hero and given one of the
nation’s highest military honours. And as you may know, O’Hare
Airport was named after him.

Prior to this time in Chicago, there was a man called Easy Eddie. He
was working for a man Al Capone. Al Capone wasn’t famous for
anything heroic, but he was notorious for the murders he’d committed
and the illegal thing’s he’d done. Easy Eddie was Al Capone’s lawyer
and he was very good. In fact, because of his skill, he was able to
keep Al Capone out of jail. To show his appreciation, Al Capone paid
him very well. He not only earned big money, he would get extra
things, like a residence that filled an entire Chicago city block. The
house was fenced, and he had live-in help and all of the
conveniences of the day. Easy Eddie had a son. He loved his son
and gave him all the best things while he was growing up, – clothes,
cars, and a good education. And, because he loved his son he tried
to teach him right from wrong. But one thing he couldn’t give his son
was a good name, and a good example. Easy Eddie decided that this
was much more important than all the riches he had given him. So, he
went to the authorities in order to rectify the wrong he had done. In
order to tell the truth, it meant he must testify against Al Capone, and
he knew that Al Capone would do his best to have him killed. But he
wanted most of all to try to be an example and to do the best he could
to give back to his son, a good name. So he testified. Within the year,
he was shot and killed on a lonely street in Chicago. These sound like
two unrelated stories, but Butch O’Hare was Easy Eddie’s son.