Subject: A Father's Love for His Son / A Pearl Story
Date:    Thu, 23 Apr 1998 23:32:56 +0000
To:      "Hebraic Heritage Newsgroup"<heb_roots_chr@geocities.com>

 

From:     HaY'Did
To:       heb_roots_chr@geocities.com
Subject:  A Father and his Son

                    
                           A FATHER AND HIS 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 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 solider told of
how the man's son had told everyone of 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 solider, 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. And 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. With the
collector's passing, and his only son dead, 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 we can 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." Just as those art collectors
discovered on that day, the message is still the same - the love of a
Father - a Father whose greatest joy came from his son who went away and
gave his life rescuing others. And because of that Father's
love...whoever takes the Son gets it all.

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From:         Jason Bohn
To:           heb_roots_chr@mail.geocities.com,
Subject:      Pearls


Hi folks,  This is a good story!

The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five.  Waiting
with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of
glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.  "Oh please,  Mommy.  Can 
I have them? Please, Mommy, please!"

Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then
looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned
face.  "A dollar ninety-five.  That's almost $2.00.  If you really
want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you
can save enough money to buy them for yourself.  Your birthday's  only
a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out
17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and
she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick
dandelions for ten cents.  On her birthday, Grandma did give her
another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the
necklace.  Jenny loved her pearls.  They made her feel dressed up and
grown up. She wore them everywhere--Sunday school, kindergarten, even
to bed.  The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or
had a bubble bath.  Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her
neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for
bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her
a story.  One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do
you love me?"  "Oh yes, Daddy.  You know that I love you."  "Then give
me your pearls."  "Oh, Daddy, not my pearls.  But you can have
Princess--the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink
tail.  Remember, Daddy?  The one you gave me. She's my favorite." 
"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you.  Good night."  And he brushed
her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again,
"Do you love me?"  "Daddy, you know I love you."  "Then give me your
pearls."

 "Oh Daddy, not my pearls.   But you can have my babydoll.  The brand
new one I got for my birthday.  She is so beautiful and you can have the
yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."  "That's okay.  Sleep well.
God bless you, little one.  Daddy loves you."  And as always, he
brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her
bed with her legs crossed Indian-style.  As he came close, he noticed
her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. 
"What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?">  Jenny didn't say anything
but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it,
there was her little pearl necklace.  With a little quiver,she finally
said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out
with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand
he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a
strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny.  He had had them all
the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff
so he could give her genuine treasure.

So like our heavenly Father.  What are you hanging on to?

Have a great day.
Remember  JESUS is LORD

Richard

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