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Author Topic: warm hearted story  (Read 4836 times)

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ez2u

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warm hearted story
« on: November 09, 2008, 07:22:12 AM »

a girl friend sent this to me   hope you enjoy it as much as i did






When James was quite young, his father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. He remembers the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. He was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when his mother talked to it.

JAMES:
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and
dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just
above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."

"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question.

"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked.

"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.

I said I could.

"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math.

She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called,

Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I wa s not consoled. I asked her,
"Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "James, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.

Often, in moments of doubt a nd perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the
phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. "Information."

I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"

''I wonder," she said, ''if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle.. A different voice answered, "Information." I asked for Sally.
"Are you a friend?" she said.
"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."
Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was James?"

"Yes." I answered.

"Well, Sally left a message for you.. She wrote it down in case you called.
Let me read it to you."
The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
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Dave in Tenn

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #1 on: November 09, 2008, 05:14:20 PM »

I did indeed.   :)
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Heb 10:32  But you must continue to remember those earlier days, how after you were enlightened you endured a hard and painful struggle.

Vangie

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #2 on: November 09, 2008, 07:22:37 PM »

Very warm hearted Peggy, thank you much.

Vangie
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Fester

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #3 on: November 09, 2008, 07:47:16 PM »

A very nice story.  I wish I had an 'old wooden box'.  Someone to speak to who is nice and cares about me.
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"Christianity began as a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. When it went to Athens, it became a philosophy. When it went to Rome, it became an organization. When it went to Europe, it became a culture. When it came to America, it became a business."

iris

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #4 on: November 09, 2008, 09:40:14 PM »

Hi Peggy,

That was a nice warm hearted story!

Thanks for sharing.


Iris
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Marlene

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #5 on: November 11, 2008, 05:55:51 PM »

Peggy, We have a nice place here !!! Don't you think? The next wonderful thing is we have Gods Truths and we met each other. I hope someday I could meet some of you face to face. That story was wonderful. Thank You.

In His Love,
Marlene
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cjwood

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #6 on: November 12, 2008, 02:10:18 AM »

thanks for the warm hearted story peggy. i guess God is now our "information please" operator. we can call Him up anytime of the day or night and He will listen. He is as happy that we come to him for help as we are to be able to have Him to go to. just like sally and james.

claudia
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hammerandnails

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Re: warm hearted story
« Reply #7 on: November 12, 2008, 02:35:23 PM »

Wow, what a great, warm hearted story!!!
And the way it was written, well, was simply exquisite!!

Thank you so much for sharing! :-* :-*

There is nothing like seeing the world through the eyes of a child.

Shalom
Ariel
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