THE PACKAGE

A married lady was expecting a birthday gift from her husband. For many months she had admired a beautiful diamond ring in a showroom, and knowing her husband could afford it, she told him that was all she wanted. As her birthday approached, this lady awaited signs that her hubby had purchased the diamond ring.
Finally, on the morning of her birthday, her hubby called her into his study. He told her how proud he was t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ have such a good wife, and told her how much he loved her. He handed her a beautiful wrapped gift box. Curious, the wife opened the box & found a lovely,leather-bound Bible,with the wife's name embossed in gold. Angrily, she raised her voice at her husband & said, "with all your money you give me a Bible? She stormed out of the house, leaving her husband.
Many years passed & the lady was very successful in business. she managed to settle for a more beautiful house and a wonderful family, but realized her ex-husband was very old, & thought perhaps she should go visit him. she had not seen him for many years. but before she could make arrangement, she received a telegram telling her that her ex-husband had passed away, & willed all his possessions to her. she needed to come back immediately & take care of things. when she arrived at her ex-hubby's house sudden sadness & regret filled her heart. she began to search through her ex-hubby's important papers & saw the still new Bible, just as she had left it years before. With tears she opened the Bible & began to turn the pages. Her ex-husband had carefully underlined a verse, Matt 7:11 'And if you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children,how much more shall your heavenly father, who is in heaven, not give what is good to those who ask him?'' as she read those words, a tiny package dropped from the back of the Bible. it had a diamond ring wit her name engraved on it. The same diamond ring which she saw at the showroom many years ago. On the tag was the date of her birth, & the words 'LOVE U ALWAYS'. She could not hold back her tears, they freely flowed down her Cheeks! It dawned on her t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ her Husband was the best thing that ever happened t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ her!!

How many times do we miss God's blessings just because they A̶̲̥̅̊rε̲̣̣̣̥ not packaged the way we expect! Βε̲̣̣̣̥ sensitive! Sometimes Big things come i̶̲̥̅̊n̶̲̥̅̊ small Packages.... Don't miss your divine Package! Βε̲̣̣̣̥ sensitive!
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GOD'S COFFEE

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some
expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said:

"If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.

What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of Life we live.

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us."

God brews the coffee, not the cups.......... Enjoy your coffee!

"The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything."

TAKE THE 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 their family estate. The widowed elderly 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 their nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, the elderly man
received a telegram that his beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his
son again. Within days his fears were confirmed. The young man 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 in the past-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. He opened the door and was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand.
The soldier introduced himself to the old man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come i̶̲̥̅̊n̶̲̥̅̊ for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told every one of his-and his father's-love of fine art work. "I'm also an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man began to unwrap the package, paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it a work of genius, the painting
featured the young man's face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the old man thanked the soldier, promising t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ hang the portrait 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 worth of paintings. And then the old 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 learned 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 his grief, as he realized that, although his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest i̶̲̥̅̊n̶̲̥̅̊ the priceless 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, since, with the old man's passing, and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas Day, the way he had received his greatest gift.
The day finally arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings.
Dreams could be fulfilled this day; greatness could be achieved as some could say," I have the greatest collection." The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum list... It was the painting of the old man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent.
"Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Moments passed as Na̶̲̥̅̊a̶̲̥̅̊a̶̲̥̅̊a̶̲̥̅̊a̶̲̥̅̊a̶̲̥̅̊a̶̲̥̅̊ђ 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 get on t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ the good ones." 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 $10 for the painting? That's all I have. "Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence he said, "Going once, going twice...Gone!" The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone shouted, "Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Then someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a portrait of some old man's son! What about all of the other paintings? There are
millions of dollars worth of art work here. We demand an explanation!"
The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son...gets it all."

Friends, Just as the art collectors discovered on that day...The message is still
the same...the love of the Father....a Father whose son gave his life for others...And because of that Father's love...Whoever takes the Son gets it all. It is as simple as that, take Jesus and get the whole of God!TAKE THE SON....you A̶̲̥̅̊rε̲̣̣̣̥ just a click away from more inspiring articles and stories visit www.anthonyojspeaks.blogspot.com 2180A49E>....... Please don't just read, share and leave a comment. thanks ...

LOVING THE UNATTRACTIVE

Mohammed stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Nnamdi Azikiwe Airport. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.
His interest in her had begun thirteen months before i̶̲̥̅̊n̶̲̥̅̊ a public library he visited. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Chinasa Ndukwe. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in Asokoro i̶̲̥̅̊n̶̲̥̅̊ Abuja City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.
The next day he was shipped overseas for Peace Keeping assignment i̶̲̥̅̊n̶̲̥̅̊ a neighbouring country. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Mohammed requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.
When the day finally came for him to return from Liberia, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Nnamdi Azikiwe Airport in Abuja. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

I'll let Mohammed tell you what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, soldier?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Ngozi Obiora. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be, grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant Mohammed,and you must be Miss Chinasa. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"
The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my dress. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to understand Miss Chinasa's wisdom, The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are. Mohammed,Chinasa, Mrs Obiora... W̶̲̥̅̊Н̣̣̣̝̇̇̇ɑ̤̥̈̊†̥̥ do YOU have t̶̲̥̅̊ợ̣̣̇̇̇ say?