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NOTES  FROM  THE  VALLEY - December 1, 2000

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil for you are with me."  Psalm 23.
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TOPIC:  REFLECTIONS  ON  CHRISTMAS  PAST

"See that you do not look down on one of these little ones.  For I tell you
that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven . . .
your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be
lost . . . for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew
18:10-11, 14, and 19:14.

Last year at this time, our hearts and prayers were focused on Valley
Children's Hospital and little Nathan.  Many of you have been praying for
Nathan and his parents for a year now.  For those who are not familiar with
little Nathan's story, he was just a couple weeks old when he had his first
heart surgery.  Other vital organs in his tiny body did not develop properly
so other surgeries would be required if he could survive and become strong
enough.  Annette and Romero had many long and heartbreaking nights that
Christmas, watching over little Nathan and waiting to see if he would
survive.  Literally thousands of people around the globe shared their vigils
by prayer.

What a sharp contrast between what they had planned and what became their
reality.  At a time when Annette and Romero had been anticipating a joyous
holiday season at home, they found themselves instead camping out in
Nathan's hospital room, living a nightmare as they watched his struggle to
hold on to life.  Instead of warm, familiar surroundings with brightly
colored lights and holiday decorations, they paced the cold and sterile
corridors of the hospital wondering what tomorrow would bring.  I know that
at times like that, it's difficult for us to understand what's happening.
Not just for Annette and Romero, but for all of us.  Things were all planned
out.  The road ahead seemed bright and promising.  Then suddenly, without
warning, everything changes.  Promises become problems.  Our direction and
destination become suddenly  unclear.  And in stunned disbelief we find
ourselves asking the question, "Why?"

I wish I could offer a clear answer to that question.  But I can't.  I've
learned the all too painful lesson that sometimes things happen that don't
make any sense and never will (at least until that day when we stand before
the Father and everything is revealed to us).  Times when the only thing we
have left to hold onto is our faith.  Our faith in God and His promises.
The same promises that Joseph had faith in when He took a pregnant Mary to
be his wife.  The same promises that comforted them both when they were
unexpectedly forced to leave the safety and warmth of home to journey to
Bethlehem on that first Christmas.  The same promises that delivered a
savior in a Bethlehem manger and salvation on a Calvary cross.  Joseph and
Mary could not foresee the manger, only the crowded inns of Bethlehem.  But
God had a plan.  Joseph and Mary could not foresee the three wise men with a
warning to flee and the gifts to make that flight possible.  But God had a
plan.  The devil could not see any escape for man from their debt of sin.
But God had a plan.

Corrie ten Boom often showed a piece of embroidery to her audiences. She
would hold up the piece of cloth, first showing the beauty of the
embroidered side, with all the threads forming a beautiful picture, which
she described as the plan God has for our lives. Then she would flip it over
to show the tangled, confused underside, illustrating how we view our lives
from a human standpoint.  Last Christmas, most of us could only see the
tangle and confusion caused by Nathaniel's afflictions.  This Christmas we
see Nathan.  And what a joy that is!!!  No, he is not out of trouble
completely.  He is fed through a tube in his stomach and must take a variety
of medications.  Future surgeries are a probability.  But he is alive and
making wonderful progress with each passing day.  And he has blessed the
lives of everyone who has shared this last miraculous year with him and his
parents.

As Christmas approaches this year, there are still many things happening
that we don't understand.  We see problems confronting us.  We still don't
see any manger or three wise men ahead.  But just like Nathan, God has a
plan for us too.  A plan for all His children.  Let us place our faith and
trust in Him.  Let us find rest in His arms and comfort in His loving touch.
I know Nathan does.  I pray we will too?

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper
you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah
29:11

I remain His servant and your brother,
Sheltered under His wings and overwhelmed by His love,

Steve Hall


The Doll and White Rose
(Received from Carole Reu - Written by, V.A. Gibson December 1998)

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas
gifts.  I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself.  I would be in
here forever and I just had so much to do.  Christmas was beginning to
become such a drag. I kinda wished that I could just sleep through
Christmas.  But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy
department.  Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all
these toys. And wondered if the grand kids would even play with them. I
found myself in the doll aisle.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little
boy about 5 years old holding a lovely doll.  He kept touching her hair and
he held her so gently.   I watched him turn to a woman he called his aunt by
name and said, "Are you sure I don't have enough money?"  She replied a bit
impatiently, "You know that you don't have enough money for it."

The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere that she had to go get some
other things and would be back in a few minutes.  And then she left the
aisle.  The boy continued to hold the doll.  After a bit I asked the boy who
the doll was for.  He said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for
Christmas.  She just knew that Santa would bring it."

I told him not to worry that maybe Santa was going to bring it.  But he said
"No.  Santa can't go where my sister is. . . I have to give the doll to my
Mamma to take to her."  I asked him where his sister was.  He looked at me
with the saddest eyes and said "She has gone to be with Jesus.  My Daddy
says that Mama is going to have to go be with her."  My heart nearly stopped
beating.  Then the boy looked at me again and said "I told my Daddy to tell
Mama not to go yet.  I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the
store."

Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture.  I told him I would love
to.  He pulled out some pictures he'd had taken in the photo booth at the
front of the store.  He said "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she
don't ever forget me.  I love my Mama so very much, and I wish she did not
have to leave me.  But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister."

I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet.
While he was not looking I reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of
bills.  I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?"
He grew excited and said "Yes I just know it has to be enough."  So I
slipped my money in with his and we began to count it.  Of course it was
plenty for the doll.  He softly said "Thank you Jesus for giving me enough
money."  Then the boy said, "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to
buy this doll for my sister.  And he heard my prayer.  I wanted to ask him
for enough to buy my Mama a white rose, but I didn't.  But he gave me enough
to buy the doll and a rose for my Mama anyway.  She loves white roses so
very, very much."

In a few minutes the aunt came back and I wheeled my cart away.  I could not
keep from thinking about the little boy as I finished my shopping in a
totally different spirit than when I had started.  And I kept remembering a
story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier about a drunk driver
hitting a car and killing a little girl and the Mother was in serious
condition.  The family was deciding on whether to remove the life support.
Now surely this little boy did not belong with that story.  Two days later I
read in the paper where the family had disconnected the life support and the
young woman had died.  I could not forget the little boy and just kept
wondering if the two were
somehow connected.  Later that day I could not help myself and I went out
and bought some white roses and took them to the funeral home where the
young woman was.  And there she was holding a lovely white rose, the
beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store.  I left
there in tears - my life changed forever.

Editor's Note:  The author of this true story asks that everyone share it as
a warning against driving while under the influence of alcohol during the
holidays or at any other time.  I agree completely.  But there is another
important lesson for us in this young child's story.  In the midst of this
tragedy, most of us would have chosen to rage against the drunk driver whose
senseless act destroyed a family.  But the child remained focused on the
love that defined that family; on giving from his precious heart to the ones
he loved; and on Jesus to provide for his needs even when confronted by
callous and doubting adults.  He gave us the example of how Jesus and the
Father call us to be.



The Gold and Ivory Tablecloth
(Received from -LCNMfellowship - Author Howard C. Schade)

At Christmas time men and women everywhere gather in their churches to
wonder anew at the greatest miracle the world has ever known. But the story
I like best to recall was not a miracle --not exactly.  It happened to a
pastor who was very young.  His church was very old.  Once, long ago, it had
flourished.  Famous men had preached from its pulpit, prayed before its
altar.  Rich and poor alike had worshipped there and built it beautifully.
Now the good days had passed from the section of town where it stood. But
the pastor and his young wife believed in their run-down church.  They felt
that with paint, hammer, and faith they could get it in shape.  Together
they went to work.

But late in December a severe storm whipped through the river valley, and
the worst blow fell on the little church -- a huge chunk of rain-soaked
plaster fell out of the inside wall just behind the altar.  Sorrowfully the
pastor and his wife swept away the mess, but they couldn't hide the ragged
hole.  The pastor looked at it and had to remind himself quickly, "Thy will
be done!"  But his wife wept, "Christmas is only two days away!"

That afternoon the dispirited couple attended the auction held for the
benefit of a youth group.  The auctioneer opened a box and shook out of its
folds a handsome gold and ivory lace tablecloth.  It was a magnificent item,
nearly 15 feet long.  But it too dated from a long vanished era.  Who,
today, had any use for such a thing?  There were a few halfhearted bids.
Then the pastor was seized with what he thought was a great idea.  He bid it
in for $6.50.

He carried the cloth back to the church and tacked it up on the wall behind
the altar.  It completely hid the hole!  And the extraordinary beauty of its
shimmering handwork cast a fine, holiday glow over the chancel.  It was a
great triumph.  Happily he went back to preparing his Christmas sermon.

Just before noon on the day of Christmas Eve, as the pastor was opening the
church, he noticed a woman standing in the cold at the bus stop. "The bus
won't be here for 40 minutes!" he called, and invited her into the church to
get warm.

She told him that she had come from the city that morning to be interviewed
for a job as governess to the children of one of the wealthy families in
town, but she had been turned down.  A war refugee, her English was
imperfect.

The woman sat down in a pew and chafed her hands and rested. After a while
she dropped her head and prayed. She looked up as the pastor began to adjust
the great gold and ivory cloth across the hole. She rose suddenly and walked
up the steps of the chancel.  She looked at the tablecloth.

The pastor smiled and started to tell her about the storm damage, but she
didn't seem to listen. She took up a fold of the cloth and rubbed it between
her fingers.  "It is mine!" she said. "It is my banquet cloth!" She lifted
up a corner and showed the surprised pastor that there were initials
monogrammed on it. "My husband had the cloth made especially for me in
Brussels! There could not be another like it."  For the next few minutes the
woman and the pastor talked excitedly together.

She explained that she was Viennese; that she and her husband had opposed
the Nazis and decided to leave the country. They were advised to go
separately.  Her husband put her on a train for Switzerland.  They planned
that he would join her as soon as he could arrange to ship their household
goods across the border. She never saw him again.  Later she heard that he
had died in a concentration camp.  "I have always felt that it was my
fault -- to leave without him," she said. "Perhaps these years of wandering
have been my punishment!"  The pastor tried to comfort her and urged her to
take the cloth with her. She refused.  Then she went away.

As the church began to fill on Christmas Eve, it was clear that the cloth
was going to be a great success.  It had been skillfully designed to look
its best by candlelight.  After the service, the pastor stood at the
doorway. Many people told him that the church looked beautiful. One
gentle-faced middle-aged man -- he was the local clock-and-watch
repairman -- looked rather puzzled.

"It is strange," he said in his soft accent. "Many years ago my wife - God
rest her -- and I owned such a cloth.  In our home in Vienna, my wife put it
on the table" --and here he smiled -- "only when the bishop came to dinner."

The pastor suddenly became very excited. He told the jeweler about the woman
who had been in church earlier that day. The startled jeweler clutched the
pastor's arm. "Can it be? Does she live?"

Together the two got in touch with the family who had interviewed her.
Then, in the pastor's car they started for the city.  And as Christmas Day
was born, this man and his wife, who had been separated through so many
saddened Yule tides, were reunited.

To all who hear this story, the joyful purpose of the storm that had knocked
a hole in the wall of the church was now quite clear.  Of course, people
said it was a miracle, but I think you will agree it was the season for it!
True love seems to find a way.

Editor's Note:  Because God is love.  And love ALWAYS has a plan!

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Copyright © 1998-2000 by Stephen J. Hall  -   Weekly letters of
encouragement to Christians written by Stephen J. Hall unless otherwise
indicated.  Notes from the Valley and Humor from the Valley are never
intended to offend anyone.  They're meant only to brighten your day and
encourage you along the way.  Most of "Notes" and "Humor" are a collection
of items provided to me by subscribers and friends.  Credit is given to both
the contributor and to the true author, where known.  If you are blessed by
them, please feel free to make copies and pass them along to others.  If you
have something you'd like to contribute to a future edition or would like to
ask us a question or make a comment, please contact us at:

sossteve@...
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Your love, God, is my song, and I'll sing it!  I'm forever telling everyone
how faithful you are.  I'll never quit telling the story of your love - how
you built the cosmos and guaranteed everything in it.  Your love has always
been our lives foundation, your fidelity has been the roof over our world.
(Psalm 89:1-3 The Message)