A Story About the Value of Honesty

A Story About the Value of Honesty

Here is a story that stresses the value of honesty in everyday living. An aging king woke up one day to the realisation that should he drop dead, there would be no male in the royal family to take his place. He was the last male in the royal family in a culture where only a male could succeed to the throne – and he was aging. He decided that if he could not give birth to a male, he would adopt a son who then could take his place. But he insisted that such an adopted son must be extraordinary in every sense of the word. So he launched a competition in his kingdom, open to all boys, no matter their background. Ten boys made it to the very top. There was little to separate these boys in terms of intelligence, physical attributes, and capabilities. The king announced, “I have one last test and whoever comes top will become my adopted son and heir to my throne.” Then he said, “This kingdom depends solely on agriculture. So the king must know how to cultivate plants. Here is a seed of corn for each of you. Take it home and plant and nurture it for three weeks. At the end of three weeks, we shall see who has done the

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Project Smile

Project Smile

I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was Sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called, ‘Smile.’ The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought this would be a piece of cake, literally. Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald’s one crisp March morning. It was just our way of sharing special playtime with our son. We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and then even my husband did. I did not move an inch. An overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved. As I turned around I smelled a horrible ‘dirty body’ smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men. As I looked down at the short gentleman close to me, he was ‘smiling.’ His beautiful sky blue eyes

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Father’s Eyes

Father’s Eyes

Bob Richards, the former pole-vault champion, shares a moving story about a skinny young boy who loved football with all his heart. Practice after practice, he eagerly gave everything he had. But being half the size of the other boys, he got absolutely nowhere. At all the games, this hopeful athlete sat on the bench and hardly ever played. This teenager lived alone with his father, and the two of them had a very special relationship. Even though the son was always on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game. This young man was still the smallest of the class when he entered high school. But his father continued to encourage him, but also made it very clear that he did not have to play football if he didn’t want to. But the young man loved football and decided to hang in there. He was determined to try his best at every practice, and perhaps he’d get to play when he became a senior. All through high school he never missed a practice, neither did he miss a game, but remained a bench warmer all four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him. When the young man went to college, he decided to

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Pappy

Pappy

Pappy was a pleasant-looking old fellow. He had the whitest hair which he kept neatly cut and combed. His eyes were blue, though faded with age, and they seemed to emit warmth from within. His face was quite drawn, but when he smiled, even his wrinkles seemed to soften and smile with him. He had a talent for whistling and did so happily each day as he dusted and swept his pawnshop; even so, he had a secret sadness, but everyone who knew him respected and adored him. Most of Pappy’s customers returned for their goods, and he did not do much business, but he did not mind. To him, the shop was not a livelihood as much as a welcome pastime. There was a room in the back of his shop where he spent time tinkering with a menagerie of his own precious items. He referred to this back room as “memory hall.” In it were pocket watches, clocks, and electric trains. There were miniature steam engines and antique toys made of wood, tin, or cast iron, and there were various other obsolete trinkets as well. Spending time in memory hall delighted him as he recalled many treasured moments from his past. He handled each item with care, and sometimes he would close his eyes and pause to relive

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Angels in the Classroom

Angels in the Classroom

– Author Unknown A pastor read a letter from an elementary school teacher who attends East Hill Church. The gist of the letter was as follows: “Last school year, her classroom was made up of little third graders, every one of which came from either a single parent family, or a dysfunctional family, was undernourished and/or uncared for, lived in an abusive home and was either beaten, bruised, or raped by other family members; one little girl’s dad died of aids, and the list goes on. Her heart bled for these kids. Before the ’99-2000 school year started, she and her husband went to her classroom and prayed over each desk in the room. They prayed that God would place an angel behind each and every child throughout the coming year to watch over them and protect them.A month or so after the year had started, she gave the kids an assignment to write about what they would like to be when they grew up. Everybody was busy with his or her A month or so after the year had started, she gave the kids an assignment to write about what they would like to be when they grew up. Everybody was busy with his or her assignment when Andrew raised his hand. When she asked him what he needed,

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The Room

The Room

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. “I wowed ’em,” he later told his father, Bruce. “It’s a killer. It’s the bomb. It’s the best thing I ever wrote.” It also was his last. Brian’s parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager’s locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them – notes from classmates and teachers, his homework. Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen’s life. But it was only after Brian’s death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. “It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there.” Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend’s house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy

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