Two Men

It will take just 37 seconds to read this and change your thinking.

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.
One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.
His bed was next to the room’s only window.
The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.
Every afternoon,  when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.
The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.
The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.
Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by ..
Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.
Days, weeks and months passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.
As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.
Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.
It faced a blank wall.
The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.
She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’

Epilogue:
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.
Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.
If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.
‘Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present ..’
The origin of this letter is unknown, but it brings good luck to everyone who passes it on.
Do not keep this letter.
Just forward it to your friends to whom you wish blessings.

The Wrong Funeral

     God doesn’t make mistakes. He puts us where we are to be.
  They say there are no mistakes, for everything there is a purpose. Makes you think. Enjoy! We’ll never know where our paths will take us!
   ***AN ABSOLUTE MUST READ**TRUST ME
   This is really beautiful…God is not sleeping.
   Consumed by my loss, I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend-my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father’s death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.
     When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her.
   I counted it an honor.. ‘What now, Lord?’ I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand.
   My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child.. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone.
   My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church.  Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor.
   An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed the them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. ‘I’m late,’ he explained, though no explanation was necessary.
   After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, ‘Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of ‘ Margaret ?” ‘Because that was her name, Margaret . Never Mary . No one called her ‘ Mary ,” I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn’t have sat
on the other side of the church He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?
   ‘No, that isn’t correct,’ he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, ‘Her name is Mary , Mary Peters .’ ‘That isn’t who this is.’ ‘Isn’t this the Lutheran church?’
   ‘No, the Lutheran church is across the street.’  ‘Oh.’  ‘I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.’
     The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.
   The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.
   I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing..
     At the final ‘Amen,’ we darted out a door and into the parking lot. ‘I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,’ he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt’s funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.
     That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor.
   This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.
   In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them , ‘Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match made in heaven.’
     Jesus said, ‘If you are ashamed of me, I will be ashamed of you before my Father. ‘Not ashamed? Pass this on. Only if you mean it. Yes, I do Love God. He is my source of existence and Savior. He keeps me functioning each and everyday. Without Him, I would be nothing. Without him, I am nothing, but with Him I can do all things, through Christ that strengthens me. (Phil. 4:13)
   If you Love God, and are not ashamed of all the marvelous things he has done for you, send this on to others.