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Five Things God Won't Ask On That Day

10/28/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

1. God won't ask what kind of car you drove. He'll ask how many people you drove who didn't have transportation.
2. God won't ask the square footage of your house, He'll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
3. God won't ask about the clothes you had in your closet, He'll ask how many you helped to clothe.
4. God won't ask what your highest salary was. He'll ask if you compromised your character to obtain it.
5. God won't ask what your job title was. He'll ask if you performed your job to the best of your ability.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 7 (2009).

The Wise Man and the Pearl

10/9/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A traveler with a troubled heart was walking along the beach. He was headed to a small hut where an old hermit was said to live. This hermit had gained a reputation for his wisdom and kindness and had helped many people with their problems over the years. As the traveler approached the hut he saw the wise man gathering oysters from the sea for his dinner. The wise man smiled kindly to the traveler and asked him to join in the meal. As the wise man was opening a large oyster a huge pearl fell out. The traveler knew that this pearl was worth enough money to pay off his debts and take care of him for the rest of his life. He immediately asked the wise man if he could have it. The wise man smiled lovingly and without a second glance gave him the pearl.

The traveler started home thinking of his great fortune and all that he could buy with it, but while the pearl was heavy in his hands his heart was still heavy as well. After several days he returned again to the wise man’s hut. Placing the pearl in front of him the traveler said: "I no longer want this pearl, but I do want to know what you have inside of you that allowed you to give it to me without a second thought."

Like that traveler I also have much to learn, but I still hope to one day live like that wise man. I hope to give without a second glance. I hope to share without a single thought of myself. I hope to make my own life a gift of love to everyone in this world. That, I believe, is how God wants us all to live. We were not just put here to follow the Golden Rule, but also to live with Golden Love. We were not just put on this world to follow God’s commandments, but also to become more like God ourselves. The greatest pearl of all lies in our own souls. May we all find it, cherish it, and then share it with everyone we meet.

Author: Joseph J. Mazzella

A Special Grocery List

6/13/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store. She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and

asked if he would let her charge a few groceries. She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food.

John Longhouse, the grocer, scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store at once. Visualizing the family needs, she said: "Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can."

John told her he could not give her credit, since she did not have a charge account at his store. Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family.

The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery list?"

Louise replied, "Yes sir."

"O.K" he said, "put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries."

Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.

The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down. The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't believe it."

The customer smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more.

The grocer stood there in utter disgust. Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement.

It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer, which said: "Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands." The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and stood in stunned silence. Louise thanked him and left the store.

The other customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said: "It was worth every penny of it. Only God knows how much a prayer weighs."

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 6 (2008).

Grandpa's Hands

3/12/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

I'll never look at my hands the same! Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb him yet wanting to check on him, I asked him if he was OK.

He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. “Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,” he said in a clear strong voice.

“I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,” I explained to him.

“Have you ever looked at your hands?” he asked. “I mean really looked at your hands?”

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.

Grandpa smiled and related this story: “Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.

Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.”

I will never look at my hands the same again. I remember God reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of Grandpa.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

Weathered Old Barn

1/27/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right off he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands, and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty.

Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.

That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood.

It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too... and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using the hard wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy!

They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man's house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.

And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been through here... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's house.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

Almighty God

1/17/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Isn't it amazing how God works in our lives! One Saturday night, this pastor was working late, and decided to call his wife before he left for home. It was about 10:00 PM, but his wife didn't answer the phone. The pastor let it ring many times. He thought it was odd that she didn't answer, but decided to wrap up a few things and try again in a few minutes. When he tried again she answered right away. He asked her why she hadn't answered before, and she said that it hadn't rung at their house. They brushed it off as a fluke and went on their merry ways.

The following Monday, the pastor received a call at the church office, which was the phone that he'd used that Saturday night. The man that he spoke with wanted to know why he'd called on Saturday night. The pastor couldn't figure out what the man was talking about. Then the man said, "It rang and rang, but I didn't answer." The pastor remembered the mishap and apologized for disturbing him, explaining that he'd intended to call his wife. The man said, "That's OK. Let me tell you my story. You see, I was planning to commit suicide on Saturday night, but before I did, I prayed, 'God if you're there, and you don't want me to do this, give me a sign now.' At that point my phone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID, and it said, 'Almighty God'. I was afraid to answer!"

The reason why it showed on the man's caller ID that the call came from "Almighty God" is because the church that the pastor attends is called Almighty God Tabernacle!!

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

The Tea Cup

11/4/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

There was an American couple who used to go to England to shop in the beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and especially teacups. This was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup. They said, "May we see that? We've never seen one quite so beautiful."

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke. "You don't understand," it said. "I haven't always been a teacup. There was a time when I was red and I was clay. My master took me and rolled me and patted me over and over and I yelled out, 'let me alone, but he only smiled, 'Not yet.'

"Then I was placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. Stop it! I'm getting dizzy! I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, 'Not yet.' Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I wondered why he wanted to burn me, and I yelled and knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as He shook his head, 'Not yet.'

Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. 'There, that's better,' I said. And he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 'Stop it, stop it!' I cried. He only nodded, 'Not yet.' Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. All the time I could see him through the opening nodding his head saying, 'Not yet.'

Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it. I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me out and placed me on the shelf. One hour later he handed me a mirror and said, 'Look at yourself. And I did. I said, 'That's not me; that couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful.'

'I want you to remember, then,' he said, 'I know it hurts to be rolled and patted, but if I had left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened; you would not have had any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive for very long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind when I first began with you.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Unfolding the Rose

10/30/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A young, new priest was walking with an older, more seasoned priest in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was asking the older priest for some advice. The older priest walked up to a rose bush and handed the young priest a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing any of the petals.

The young priest looked in disbelief at the older priest and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the will of God for his life and ministry. But, because of his great respect for the older priest, he proceeded to try and unfold the rosebud while keeping every petal intact. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this was to do. Noticing the young priest's inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the older priest began to recite the following poem:

            It is only a tiny rosebud
            A flower of God's design;
            But I cannot unfold the petals
            With these clumsy hands of mine.
            The secret of unfolding flowers
            Is not known to such as I.

            GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
            Then, in my hands, they die.
            If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
            The flower of God's design,
            Then how can I have the wisdom
            To unfold this life of mine?

            So, I'll trust in Him for leading
            Each moment of my day.
            I will look to Him for His guidance
            Each step of the Pilgrim's way

            The pathway that lies before me
            Only my Heavenly Father knows.
            I'll trust him to unfold the moments,
            Just as He unfolds the rose.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Tapestry

9/2/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A missionary was traveling in the Far East when he came across a booth in a market place. It was a tapestry maker’s booth. As he walked by he saw a strange sight. A man was standing in the booth shouting at his loom on the other side of the booth. As he shouted threads appeared in the tapestry almost by magic. The missionary asked his guide for an explanation.

"The man you see," said the guide, "is a master weaver. He is speaking to his apprentice behind the loom telling him what color thread to use and where to put it. Only the weaver knows the entire design, so it is vital that the apprentice do exactly as the master commands."

"Does the apprentice ever make a mistake?" asked the missionary.

"Of course. But the weaver is a very kind man in this case and he will rarely have the boy take out the thread. Instead, being a great artist, he simply works the mistake into the design."

How much that is like God. We cannot see the pattern of the tapestry God is weaving. We are on the other side of the loom looking at knotted threads placed seemingly without purpose. Occasionally we can catch a glimpse of the design, but then as soon as we think we have it pegged the master calls for a thread which changes every thing. So, we have to trust the master weaver that he knows what he is doing.

And like the apprentice, we, too make our mistakes. We put in a red thread instead of a violet one. We knot it in the wrong place or place it crookedly. And God in his mercy doesn’t upbraid us but takes our own mistakes and make them part of the design.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 4 (2006).

Two Horses

8/7/2013

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Just up the road from my home is a field with two horses in it. From a distance, each looks like every other horse. However, if one stops the car - or is walking by - one will notice something quite amazing.

Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing, but close observation will reveal something even more amazing.

Listening closely, one will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, one will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to her bridle is a small bell. It lets her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her.

As one stands and watches these two friends, one sees how she is always checking on him and that he will listen for her bell and then slowly walk to where she is, trusting that she will not lead him astray.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are like the blind horse, being guided by God and those whom He places in our lives. Other times, we are the guide horse, helping others see God.

Author: Ingrid Khan.