When Two Become One - Merri and Peter.mp4

i took this with my phone, and it's really graphicky and dark...but who cares?? hahahaha :D thanks for bein such a sport, merri!

Share the Gospel, People

THE ROOM

     17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.  The subject was what Heaven was like.  "I wowed 'em," he later
told his father, Bruce.  "It's a  killer.  It's the bomb.  It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was  the last.

 Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School .

 Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, 
his homework.

 Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.  

 

 But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.  "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

 Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day.  He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce  Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole.  He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

 

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.  "I think God used him to make a point. 

 

I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it, " Mrs.  Moore said of the essay.  She and her husband want to share  their son's vision of life after death.

"I'm happy for Brian.  I know he's in heaven.  I know I'll see him.

 

     Brian's Essay: The Room..

 

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.  There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
covered with small index card files.  They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.  But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.  As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and
began flipping through the cards.  I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.  And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

 This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life.  Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.  A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror,  stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content.  Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird.  "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given,"

"Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

 Often there were many more cards than I expected.  Sometimes fewer than I hoped.  I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had
lived.  Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of  these thousands or even millions of cards?  But each card confirmed this truth.  Each was written in my own handwriting.

Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents.  The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. 

I shut it,  shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

 When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body.  I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card.  I shuddered at its detailed content.

 I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.  An almost animal rage broke on me.  One thought dominated my mind: No one 
must ever see these cards!  No one must ever see this room!  

I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out  Its size didn't matter now.  I had to empty it and burn the cards.  But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card.  

I became desperate and pulled out a card only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
 
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

 And then I saw it..  The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused.  I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands.  I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came.  I began to weep..  Sobs so deep that they hurt.  They started in my stomach and shook through me.  I fell on my knees and cried.  I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.  The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.

 

No one must ever, ever know of this room.  I must lock it up and hide the key.  But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
 
No, please not Him.  Not here.  Oh, anyone but Jesus.  I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards.  I couldn't bear to watch His response.  And in the moments I could 
bring myself to look at His face, I saw sorrow deeper than my own.  

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.

Why did He have to read every one?  

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes.  But this was a pity that didn't anger me.  I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.  He walked over and put His arm around me.  

He could have said so many things.  But He didn't say a word.  He just cried with me.

 

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.  Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

 

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him.

 All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him.  His name shouldn't be on these cards.  But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.  The name of Jesus covered mine.  

It was written with His blood.  He gently took the card back.  He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.  I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk 
back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room.  There was no lock on its door.

There were still cards to be written.  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.

 

My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

Logic Problem - 'Dental Problems'

The dentists at the Gatehouse Dental Center are used to occasional odd behavior from their patients, but last Monday - a wet and miserable Monday - was something else; each of the dentists had a patient with a 10.00am appointment - and, though all were in the waiting room on time, none of them actually made it into a treatment room. From the clues given, can you work out the name of each patient, the dentist with whom he or she had an appointment, the reason for that appointment and what happened when they were asked to go in to the treatment room?

DENTISTS: Mr Aike, Ms Hurte, Mr Misry, Miss Payne, Mr Smart

PATIENTS: Amy Blunt, Diane Eames, Geoff Hitch, Jack Kidd, Maggie Neill

APPOINTMENT FOR: Crown, Extraction, Filling, New dentures, Routine inspection

INCIDENT: Burst into tears, Felt sick, Fainted, Locked in loo, Ran away

 
 
CLUES

1 Maggie Neill’s appointment, which was for a routine six-monthly check-up, was with a male dentist.

2 It wasn’t the patient who had an appointment with Mr Misry who simply ran out of the door and away down the road when asked to go in to the treatment room.

3 Amy Blunt, who felt sick – too sick to see the dentist – when called into the treatment room, wasn’t the patient who was due to see Mr Aike about new dentures.

4 Ms Hurte’s patient, who wasn’t there for a filling, panicked when spoken to by the receptionist and ran to the loo and locked him- or herself in.

5 Geoff Hitch’s appointment was with Mr Smart; Diane Eames wasn’t at the Gatehouse Center to have a crown done.

6 It was the patient who had come in for an extraction who simply fainted when asked to go in.

Loads of fun :D

nyahaha... don't mind me

i'm just venting out some pent-up boredom


1. YOUR NAME:

eandra leslie po

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first three letters of your name, plus izzle):

eanizzle

3. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color and fav animal):

red siberian husky hahaha

4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, and current street name):

maglaya alcaraz

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom's maiden name):

poealim

6. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite drink):

taupe tea

7. IRAQI NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last
name, any letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms maiden name,
2nd letter of your dads middle name, 1st letter of a siblings first name):

ayiet

8. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (father's middle name):

lee :3

9. GOTH NAME: (3rd favorite color, and one of the name of your pet)

gray ginger

It was a cold, rainy night... o_o GAH.

So last night, I was assigned to sleep in the living room. They were doing some renovating in the bedroom and needed some stuff to be moved out (including my bed). It was fine by me, really, because I've slept in the living room often times before, mostly by my own volition. It's pretty cold down there, even during the summer, plus there's the tv close at hand:)

I finally went to lie down at about 11.30 and went through the usual struggles of transitioning from the conscious to the not so conscious. And as slumber was about to drift in my foggy mind, I heard a note.

Oh, not just any note.

You see, the piano was, what, an arm's length away from my bed. And it played a quiet, low note. It was possibly the lowest key in that gosh-darned piano. And heaven knows that those low keys are pretty heavy, so rats are out of the question. Even if it was one heck of a giant, flea-infested rat.  So rationally, I thought (hoped, too) that maybe it was the neighbor. They have a piano and, you know, it makes sense.

But the next thing that happened shook my spine and squeezed my heart into a melted mess.

A cacophony (ooh) of really scary sounding notes rumbled out of the piano. Now, at this time, I was terrified and immobile; I daren't move. Now, the theory that it was the neighbor that was doing it was pretty much dead. I was trying my best to concoct a rational explanation to everything that was happening, but I couldn't think of anything.

And then it did it again. Invisible fingers were going berserk on those heavy keys. Then, there was silence. My heart was pounding, and I no longer felt cold. I dared to look at the piano.
There was nothing there..

I prayed. Really, really hard. I begged God to send me over an angel, heck, hundreds of angels, to protect me from whatever it is. (Hey, if it can move keys, it can probably move friggin' knives, too). After I prayed really, really hard, I managed to sleep without incident.

And up until now, I still wonder what it really was. (Prior to this, I just watched Neil Gaiman's movie, MirrorMask, and finished his book, American Gods. And doing that really gave me one wild imagination).

I was obliterated and was delirious.

Chris and his Chinese War Checkers. . .blargh.