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From: Prose'n'Poems 
To: [email protected] 
Sent: Saturday, March 21, 2009 4:24 AM
Subject: What I long for * Daniel's Story


Prose'n'Poems
17-Mar-09 
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  Welcome to Prose'n'Poems. Start your day with the Thought Of The Day and 
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shall give proper credit or remove it from the site. Please read the copyright 
information at the bottom.              Hershy


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Thought Of The Day

The only gift is a portion of thyself.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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A REQUEST

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What I long for

Oh, there are so many things spiritual and concrete, I long for,
They are truly what I cherish and adore.
The flowers sweet fragrance and majestic hues in the spring,
sweet melodies of birds that so mirthfully sing.
A mother's embrace and caress,
A world sipping from the cups of peace, love and happiness.
Sunshine glowing radiantly in everyone's life sky,
Gleaming beaming smiles shown in everyone's dancing eyes.
No illness suffering or pain,
All are winners as they play in life's complicated game.
God's miracles and love blooming throughout each and every moment of each day,
Tranquil and loving words are what we select to say.
Oh, what a truly wonderful world it would certainly be,
If all of us joined hands and sang and rejoiced in loving fellowship and 
community.

Cynthia Groopman
Copyright © Cynthia L. Groopman




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Share your poems, prose, thought of the day with thousands of people.
Send them to [email protected]  
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Daniel's Story
I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off 
the corner of the town square. The food and the company were both especially 
good that day.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking 
into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his 
back.. He was carrying a well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food." My 
heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us 
had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and 
disbelief.

We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our 
meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to 
accomplish them. I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat 
halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him 
again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I 
made some purchases at a store and got back in my car.

Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me, "Don't go back to the 
office until you've at least driven once more around the square."

Then with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's 
third corner, I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the store front 
church, going through his sack.

I stopped and looked, feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to 
drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God; 
an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest 
visitor.

"Looking for the pastor"? I asked.

"Not really," he replied. "Just resting."

"Have you eaten today"?

"Oh, I ate something early this morning."

"Would you like to have lunch with me"?

"Do you have some work I could do for you"?

"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would like 
to take you to lunch."

"Sure," he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things, I asked some surface questions. Where are you 
headed"?

"St. Louis. "

"Where are you from"?

"Oh, all over. Mostly Florida."

"How long have you been walking"?

"Fourteen years," came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same 
restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 
years. His eyes were dark, yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and 
articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red 
T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. 
He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years 
earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in 
Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and 
some equipment. A concert, he thought.

He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert, but revival services, and 
in those services, he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God.

"Nothing's been the same since," he said. "I felt the Lord telling me to keep 
walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."

"Ever think of stopping"? I asked.

"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me 
this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food 
and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."

I sat amazed.. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and 
lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I 
asked, "What's it like"?

"What"?

"To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your 
sign"?

"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once 
someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made
a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became 
humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's 
concepts of other folks like me."

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. 
Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come Ye blessed of 
my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry, 
you gave me food. When I was thirsty, you gave me drink. A stranger and you 
took me in."

I felt as if we were on holy ground. "Could you use another Bible"? I asked.

He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too 
heavy. It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he 
said.

"I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see."

I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very 
grateful.

"Where are you headed from here"? I asked.

"Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon."

"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile"?

"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right 
there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."

He smiled and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I 
drove him back to the town square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we 
drove, it started raining. We parked and unloaded his things.
"Would you sign my autograph book"? he asked. "I like to keep messages from 
folks I meet."

I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched my 
life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture 
from Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you, declared the Lord. Plans to 
prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope."

"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just strangers, 
but I love you."

"I know," I said. "I love you, too. The Lord is good!"

"Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you"? I asked.

"A long time," he replied.

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I 
embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed.

He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in 
the New Jerusalem."

"I'll be there!" was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his 
bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said,

"When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me"?

"You bet," I shouted back. "God bless."

"God bless." And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had 
settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back 
and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them, a pair of well-worn brown work 
gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought 
of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them.

Then I remembered his words, "If you see something that makes you think of me, 
will you pray for me"?

Today, his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world 
and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my 
unique friend and to pray for his ministry.

"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said.

"Yes, Daniel, I know I will."

Author Unknown

from the 4th Kid

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