Writings From Anonymous Authors

*Handwriting on the wall*

A weary mother returned from the store,
Lugging groceries through the kitchen door.
Awaiting her arrival was her eight-year-old son,
Anxious to relate what his *younger brother had done.

"While I was out playing and Dad was on a call.
T.J. took his crayons and *wrote on the wall !
It's on the new paper you just hung in the den.
I told him you'd be *mad at having to do it again."

She let out a moan and furrowed her brow.
"Where is your little brother right now ?"
She emptied her arms and with a purposeful stride,
She marched to his closet where he had gone to *hide.

She called his full name as she entered his room.
For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved
About the expensive wallpaper and how she had slaved.

Lamenting all the work-- it would take to repair,
She condemned his actions and total lack of care.
The *more she scolded, the *madder she got,
Then stomped from his room, totally distraught !

She headed for the den to confirm her fears.
When she saw the wall, her *eyes flooded with*tears.
The message she read pierced her soul with a dart.
It said, "I love Mommy," surrounded by a *heart.

Well, the wallpaper remained, just as she found it,
With an empty picture frame hung to surround it,
A reminder to her, and indeed to all,
Take *time to read*--- the handwriting on the wall !!!

Author Unknown

THE HEART OF A BOY

"Tomorrow morning," the surgeon began, "I'll open up your heart..."

"You'll find Jesus there," the boy interrupted.

The surgeon looked up, annoyed "I'll cut your heart open," he continued,
to see how much damage has been done..."

"But when you open up my heart, you'll find Jesus in there,"
said the boy.

The surgeon looked to the parents, who sat quietly. "When I see how much damage
has been done, I'll sew your heart and chest back up, and I'll plan what to do next."

"But you will find Jesus in my heart. The Bible says He lives there.
The hymns all say He lives there. You will find Him in my heart."

The surgeon had had enough. "I'll tell you what I'll find in your heart.
I'll find damaged muscle, low blood supply, and weakened vessels.
And, I'll find out if I can make you well."

Determined, the boy again said, "You'll find Jesus there too. He lives there!"

The surgeon left.

The surgeon sat in his office, recording his notes from the surgery, "...damaged aorta, damaged pulmonary vein, widespread muscle degeneration. No hope for transplant, no hope for cure.
Therapy: painkillers and bed rest. Prognosis,... here he paused, "death within one year."

He stopped the recorder, but there was more to be said. "Why?" he asked aloud. "Why did you do this!? You've put him here, You've put him in this pain, and You've cursed him to an early death. Why!?"

The Lord answered and said, "The boy, my lamb, was not meant for your flock for long, for he is a part
of my flock, and he will forever be. Here, in my flock, he will feel no pain, and will be comforted as you cannot imagine. His parents will one day join him here, and they will know peace, and my flock will continue to grow."

The surgeon's tears were hot, but his anger was hotter. "You created that boy,
and You created that heart. He'll be dead in months! Why!?"

The Lord answered, "The boy, my lamb, shall return to my flock for he has done his duty.
I did not put my lamb with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost lamb."

The surgeon wept.

The surgeon sat beside the boy's bed, and the boy's parents sat across from him.
The boy awoke and whispered, "Did you cut open my heart?"

"Yes," said the surgeon.

"What did you find?" asked the boy.

"I found Jesus there," said the surgeon.

Author Unknown

"A PRESENT OF LOVE"

Father scolded little Emma for using the expensive paper to wrap an old shoe box.

The next morning, she came carrying the poorly wrapped present to her
father wishing him a Happy Father's Day.

Ashamed of his behavior, he proceeded to open the present only to find the
box was empty.

Father became very upset and harshly explained that you don't give presents
that are empty.

With a tear flowing down her little cheek, Emma hurriedly declared the
box wasn't empty.

That she had spent all day blowing kisses into the box just for him.

Needless to say, father was humbled by her little face and apologized as he
embraced his little girl.

The old shoe box was guarded and cherished till father's death.

Emma found the shoe box tucked away in father's closet and inside was a note......

"Emma, for every kiss I've removed from this box of love,
I've replaced with my kiss for, you, my precious little girl."

Author Unknown

"Barefoot Boy"

A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on Broadway,
barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.

A lady approached the boy and said,
"My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?"

"I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boys reply.
The lady took him by the hand and went into the store, and asked the clerk to
get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy.

She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel, and he replied:
"Certainly," and quickly brought them to her.

She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and removing her gloves,
knelt down, washed his little feet and dried them with a towel.

By this time the clerk had returned with the socks.
Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes,
and tying up the remaining pairs of socks, gave them to him.

She patted him on the head and said,

"No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?"

As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand,
and looking up in her face, with tears in his eyes,
answered the question with these words,

"Are you God's Wife?"

Author Unknown

"The Most Beautiful Flower"

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath the long,
straggly branches of an old willow tree.

Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, a young boy out of breath approached me,
all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement,

"Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, with it's petals all worn - not enough rain,
or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose
and declared with overacted surprise,

"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.

That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying and almost dead.

Not vibrant of colors; orange, yellow or red.

But I knew I must take it or he might never leave.

So I reached for the flower and replied,

"Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, He held it mid-air, without reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the very first time.

That weed-toting boy could not see; he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver, tears shone in the sun, as I thanked him for picking the very best one.

"You're welcome", he smiled, and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see, a self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see, the problem was not with the world;
the problem was me.

And after all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life,

And appreciate every second that's mine.

Then I held that wilted flower up to my nose and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose,
and smiled as I watched that young boy with another weed in his hand,

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Author Unknown

THE MEANEST MOTHER IN THE WORLD.......

We had the meanest mother in the whole world!
While other kids ate candy for breakfast,
we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast.

When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch,
we had to eat sandwiches.

And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was
different than other kids had too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times.

You'd think we were convicts in a prison.

She had to know who our friends were,
and what we were doing with them.

She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour,
we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the
"Child Labor Laws" by making us work.

We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook,
vacuum the floor, do laundry, and all sorts of cruel jobs.

I think she would lay awake at night thinking of more things
for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth.

By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds,
and life was really tough.

She wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up.

They had to come up to the door so she could meet them.

While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13,
we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things
other kids experienced.

None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing
other's property, or ever arrested for any crime.

It was all her fault.

We never got drunk, took up smoking, stayed out all night,
or a million other things other kids did.

Sundays were reserved for church, and we never missed once.

We knew better than to ask to spend the night with a friend on Saturdays.

Now that we have left home, we are all God-fearing,
educated, honest adults.

We are doing our best to be mean parents just like our mom was.

The world just doesn't have enough mean moms anymore.

Author Unknown

Why Mothers Cry ....

"Why are you crying?" he asked his mom.

"Because I'm a mother," she told him.

"I don't understand," he said.

His mom just hugged him and said, "You never will!"

Later the little boy asked his father why Mother seemed to cry for no reason.

"All mothers cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why mothers cry.

So he finally put in a call to God and when God got on the phone the man said,

"God, why do mothers cry so easily."

God said,

"You see son, when I made mothers they had to be special.

I made their shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,
yet gentle enough to give comfort.

I gave them an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection
that many times come from their children.

"I gave them a hardiness that allows them to keep going when
everyone else gives up, and to take care of their families through sickness
and fatigue without complaining.

"I gave them the sensitivity to love their children under all circumstances,
even when their child has hurt them very badly.

This same sensitivity helps them to make a child's boo-boo
feel better and helps them share a teenager's anxieties and fears.

"I gave them a tear to shed.

It's theirs exclusively to use whenever it's needed.

It's their only weakness.

It's a tear for mankind."

Author Unknown

"DEATH OF AN INNOCENT"

I went to a party, Mom, I remembered what you said.

You told me not to drink, Mom, so I drank soda instead

I really felt proud inside, Mom, the way you said I would.

I didn't drink and drive, Mom, even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right.

Now the party is finally ending, Mom, as everyone is driving out of sight.

As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece.

Because of the way you raised me, so responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, Mom, but as I pulled out into the road,

the other car didn't see me, Mom, and hit me like a load.

As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say

the other guy is drunk, Mom, and now I'm the one who will pay.

I'm lying here dying, Mom....I wish you'd get here soon.

How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.

There is blood all around me, Mom, and most of it is mine.

I hear the medic say, Mom, I'll die in a short time.

I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn't drink.

It was the others, Mom. The others didn't think.

He was probably at the same party as I.

The only difference is, he drank and I will die.

Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life.

I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.

The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don't think it's fair.

I'm lying here dying and all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave.

And when I go to heaven, Mom, put "Daddy's Baby" on my grave.

Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive.

If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I'm becoming very scared.

Please don't cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there.

I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye,

"I didn't drink and drive, so why am I the one to die?"

This is the end Mom

I wish I could look you in the eye

To say these final words

"I LOVE YOU AND...GOODBYE"

Author Unknown

FATHER'S SON

Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others adorned the walls of the family estate. The widowed, elder man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world. As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again.

Within days, his fears were confirmed.

The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic. Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, a season that he and his son had so looked forward to, would visit his house no longer.

On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man.

As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. As he opened the door,he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you."

As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his, not to mention his father's, love of fine art. "I'm an artist," said the soldier, " and I want to give you this." As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars of paintings. Then, the man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given. During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease the grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away.

The art world was in anticipation!

Unmindful of the story of the man's only son, but in his honor;
those paintings would be sold at an auction.

According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day,
the day he had received his greatest gift.

The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered
to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings.

Dreams would be fulfilled this day;
greatness would be achieved as many would claim
"I have the greatest collection."

The auction began with a painting that was not
on any museum's list.

It was the painting of the man's son.

The auctioneer asked for an opening bid.

The room was silent.

"Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked.

Minutes passed.

No one spoke.

From the back of the room came,

"Who cares about that painting?

It's just a picture of his son.

Let's forget it and go on to the good stuff."

More voices echoed in agreement.

"No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer.

"Now, who will take the son?"

Finally, a friend of the old man spoke.

"Will you take ten dollars for the painting?

That's all I have.

I knew the boy, so I'd like to have it."

I have ten dollars.

Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer.

After more silence, the auctioneer said,

"Going once, going twice. Gone."

The gavel fell.

Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed,

"Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"

The auctioneer looked at the audience and
announced the auction was over.

Stunned disbelief quieted the room.

Someone spoke up and asked,

"What do you mean it's over?

We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son.

What about all of these paintings?

There are millions of dollars of art here!

I demand that you explain what's going on here!"

The auctioneer replied,

"It's very simple.

According to the will of the father,

whoever takes the son . . . gets it all."

AUTHOR UNKNOWN