Banner Sponsors
For artists and collectors sponsored by Intercal...your mohair supplier and Johnna's Mohair Store
Bears by Jodi> WOW - a bit long but well worth the read!!
>
>
> BETH MOORE AT THE AIRPORT
>
>
> For those of you who do not know Beth Moore, she is an outstanding Bible
> teacher, writer of Bible studies, and is a married mother of two
> daughters. This is one of her experiences:
>
> April 20, 2005, at the Airport in Knoxville waiting to board the plane, I
> had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had
> a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you
> it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You
> could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life
> in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of
> which is your ego. I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange
> sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in
> clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His
> knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat
> hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of
> veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy
> gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His
> fingernails were long, clean but
> Strangely out of place on an old man.
>
> I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face.
> As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself
> wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered
> that he was dead. So this man in the airport...an impersonator maybe? Was
> a camera on us somewhere? There I sat; trying to concentrate on the Word
> to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a
> wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing
> more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it.
> Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly was
> awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.
>
> I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've
> learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to
> my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be
> embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God
> working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh, no,
> God, please, no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight
> through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not
> right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane,
> but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this
> gawking audience. Please, Lord!" There I sat in the blue vinyl chair
> begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now.
> I'll do it on the plane." Then I heard it... "I don't want you to witness
> to him. I want you to brush his hair." The words were so clear, my heart
> leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun
> Like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainer. I
> looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and
> breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this
> Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in
> your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not
> redeemed? I am going to witness to this man."
>
> Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write
> this statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth.
> I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair." I
> looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my
> suitcase on the plane How am I supposed to brush his hair without a
> hairbrush?" God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk
> toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will
> thoroughly furnish you unto all good works." (2 Timothy 3:17) I stumbled
> over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell
> this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt
> down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I
> have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" He looked back at me and said,
> "What did you say?" "May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" To
> which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you
> Expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that." At
> this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE
> PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?" At which point every eye in the place
> darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar
> than old Mr. Long locks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a
> sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and
> say, "If you really want to."
> Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem
> interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my
> heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I
> have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush." "I have one in my
> bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I
> got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly
> believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's
> hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do
> many things well, but must admit I've had notable experience untangling
> knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda
> or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the
> strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing
> happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else
> in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for
> those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I
> brushed until every tangle was out of that hair.
>
> I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for
> another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I for that
> few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God; That He had
> overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and
> making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and
> so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and
> smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag, went around
> the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his
> knees, and said, "Sir,do you know my Jesus?" He said, "Yes, I do."
> Well,that figures, I thought. He explained, "I've known Him since I
> married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior."
> He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've
> had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was
> sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride."
>
> Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when
> we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was
> one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details
> only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.
> Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply
> ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have
> accompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I
> gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the
> corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's
> sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do
> that?"
>
> I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got to
> share. I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're
> exhausted because you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it
> is time to move on, but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if
> you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning
> under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair
> brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!
>
> I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many
> opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way...all because
> I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that
> old man. He sent that old man to me.
>
> John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have
> seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father,
> full of grace and truth." Life shouldn't be a journey to the grave with
> the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but
> rather, to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and
> loudly shouting, "Wow! What a ride! Thank You, Lord!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Do you Yahoo!?
Luxembears
Wow. It's the little things that really mean the most.
Jodi, what a heartwarming story. It is so hard to listen to God sometimes when he asks us to step put of our comfort zone. But, I believe that is when we are most rewarded.
This reminded me of an incredible event in my life August 26, 2003.
I was volunteering at a Christian Women's event where men were invited. This only happened once/yr. It was a small concert featuring a well know local fiddle group ( I not a big fan of fiddle music by the way 
) Anyway, there were about 160 people , most age 60+. I was the youngest there I expect being 37. I really didn't want to be there, but wanted to support our Women's outreach group.
Amoung those in attendance were my parents wo love fiddle music. Through out the evening the Band told people they could get up and dance if they wanted. No one except 2 old ladies did. However, I had this NAGGING voice sayihg " Ask your father to dance. Of course, I kept telling myself , " No way, how embarrassing !!!! But, this "Voice" was very strong and vivd in my head and this thought would not go away. After about 20 minutes of this nagging voice I walked to the other side of the room and asked my Dad to dance with me knowing how much he loved to dance. But being shy , like me, he said no. That was fine with me. So I went back to my seat.
After a few minutes I saw my Dad walking toward my table. He had changed his mind. The 2 of us got up in front of these 160 people and did a Polka across the floor. I'm sure we stepped on each others feet many times. I can remember the huge smile on his face and it was like we were the only ones in the room. We hadn't danced together since my wedding 13 years before. We gave each other a huge hug and laughed.
4 days later my Dad died of a massive heart attack at the age of 61- and I didn't get to say goodbye. Iknew right away that that strong voice that night was God and that was such an incredible gift that he gave me ,that special time with my Dad. I am so thankful I listened. I wonder how many blessing I miss out on by not listening. But, at least that night I did. God is good !
Bears by Jodi
Have a blessed day I am truly sorry for your loss
Keep the faith
Jodi Falk
Thank you, Tammy, for sharing your story about your Dad. Thank you for sharing your story as well, Jodi. Powerful. Unbeknownst to you, perhaps the both of you are vessels that God has chosen to use to yell at me about something I've not wanted to do. Gosh. He's just everywhere!
Warmest hugs, :hug:
Aleta
Tami Eveslage Original Teddy BearsThanks for sharing...those really moved me..
