结婚那天，妈问我：坐在角落里象两个要饭模样的人是谁? 。。。看完后我哭了
by 低调南 on Tuesday, April 6, 2010 at 11:30am
请耐心看下去。。。
结婚那天，妈问我：坐在角落里象两个要饭模样的人是谁？
我看过去的时候，有个老头正盯着我，旁边还有个老太太，发现我看着他们时赶忙低下头。我不认识他们但也不象要饭的，衣服是新的连折印都看得出来。妈说象要饭的是他们佝偻着身子，老太的身边倚了根拐杖的缘故。
妈说天池是孤儿，那边没亲戚来，如果不认识就轰他们走吧。现在要饭的坏着呢，喜欢等在酒店门口，见哪家办喜事就装作亲戚来吃黑酒。
我说不会，叫来天池问一下吧？天池慌里慌张把我的手捧花都掉地上了，最后吱吱唔唔地说是他们家堂叔和堂婶。我瞪了妈妈一眼：差点把亲戚赶走。
妈说天池你不是孤儿吗？哪来的亲戚呢？
天池怕妈，低头说是他家远房的亲戚，好长时间不来往了。但结婚是大事，家里一个亲戚没来心里觉着是个憾事，所以……
我靠着天池的肩埋怨他有亲戚来也不早说，应该把他们调一桌，既然是亲戚就不能坐在备用桌上。天池拦着说就让他们坐那吧，坐别桌他们吃着也不自在。
直到开席那桌上也就坐了堂叔和堂婶。敬谢席酒经过那桌，天池犹豫了一下拉着我从他们身边擦了过去。回头看到他们的头埋的很低，想了想我把天池给拽了回去：堂叔、堂婶，我们给你俩敬酒了！
两人抬起头有点不相信的盯着我。二老的头发都是花白的，看上去很老应该有七八十岁的样子，堂婶的眼睛很空洞，脸虽对着我但眼神闪忽不定。我拿手不确定的在她眼前晃了晃，没反应。原来堂婶是个瞎子。
堂、堂叔、堂婶，这是俺媳妇小洁，俺们现在给你们敬酒呢！天池在用乡音提醒他们。
哦、哦。堂叔歪歪斜斜地站了起来，左手扶着堂婶的肩右手颤微微地端起酒杯，手指背上都是黄黄的茧，厚厚的指夹逢里留着黑黑的泥。面朝黄土背朝天的日子让他们过早地累弯了腰。我惊讶地发现，堂叔的右腿是空的。
堂婶是瞎子，堂叔是瘸子，怎样的一对夫妻啊？
别站了，你们坐下吧。我走过去扶住他们。堂叔又摇晃着坐下了，无缘由的堂婶眼里忽然就叭嗒叭嗒直掉泪，看到堂叔无言地拍着她的背。本想劝他们两句，但天池拉着我离开了。
我跟天池说，等他们回家的时候给他们一点钱吧，太可怜了。两人都是残疾，这日子根本想不通怎么过。
天池点点头没说话，紧紧拥着我。
第一年的除夕，天池说胃疼没吃下晚饭回房睡觉去了。我让妈妈熬点大米粥也跟着进了房。天池躺在床上，眼里还憋着泪。
我说天池不带这样的，第一年的除夕就不跟我们一块吃晚饭，还跑房里这样。好象我们家亏待你似的，一过节你就胃疼，哪有这样的事情？其实我知道你不是胃疼，说吧什么事？
天池闷了半天说对不起，他只是想起堂叔和堂婶还有他死去的爹娘。他怕在桌上忍不住，惹爸妈不高兴才推说胃疼。
我搂着他说：真是个傻孩子，想他们我们过完年看他们去就成了，再说我也想知道他俩是怎么过日子的。
天池说算了，那条山路特别难走。你会累着的，等以后路通了我们生了小孩再带你去那看他们吧。
我心里想说：等我们生小孩的时候他们还不一定在呢！但没敢讲出来，嘴上说给他们再寄些钱物吧！
第二年的中秋期间我正巧在外出差，中秋节那天又回不了家。我特别想天池和爸妈，我就跟天池煲电话粥。
我问天池想我想得睡不着怎么办？天池说就上网或者看电视，再不行就睡那睁着眼睛狠狠得想。
那晚，我们直到把手机聊得发烫没电为止。
躺在宾馆的床上，看着窗外圆圆的月亮，我怎么也睡不着。睁着眼睛流着泪想天池、想爸爸、想妈妈。想到天池估计也没睡着，说不定正在网上神游。翻身我也打开电脑，重新申请了一QQ号名叫读你，想捉弄一下天池。查了一下，天池果然在，我主动加了他，他接受了。
我问他：这样一个万家团圆的好日子，你为什么还在网上闲逛呢？
他说：因为我老婆在外出差，想她睡不着觉所以就上网看看。
我挺满意这句话，接着又打出：老婆不在家，可以找个情人代替，比如说网上，聊以自慰一下。
半天他才敲出一行：如果你想找情人的话，对不起，我不是你找的人，再见。
对不起，我不是那个意思，你别生气。叭叭叭，我赶紧发过去。
过了一会他问我：你怎么也在网上闲逛呢？
我说：我在外打工，现在想爸爸和妈妈。刚刚和男朋友通完电话还是睡不着，就上网了。
我也想我爹和娘，只是，亲在外，子欲养而不能。
亲在外，子欲养而不能。怎么讲？我把这句话又重复敲了过去。我有点莫明其妙，天池怎么说这样的话？
你叫读你，我今天就让你读一次吧。有些事情放在心里很久会得病，拿出来晒晒会舒服些，反正你我也不认识，你就当作听一个故事吧！
于是，我意外地知道了天池一直隐藏在内心的事情。
30年前，我爹快五十了还没娶亲，因为他腿瘸加上家里又穷没有姑娘愿意嫁他。后来，庄上来了个要饭的老头还搀着个瞎眼的女人。老头病得很重，爹看他们可怜就让他们在自家歇息。没想到一住下那老头就没起来过，后来老头的女儿就是那瞎眼的女人嫁给了我爹。
第二年生下了我。
我家的日子过得很清苦，可我从来没饿过一顿。爹和娘种不了田，没有收入就帮别人家剥玉米粒，一天剥下来十指全是血泡，第二天缠上布条再剥。为了我上学，家里养了三只鸡，两只鸡生蛋卖钱，留下一只生蛋我吃。娘说她在城里要饭时听说城里的娃上学都吃鸡蛋，咱家娃也吃，将来比城里的娃更聪明。但他们从来都不吃，有回我看见娘把蛋打进锅里后用嘴舔着蛋壳里剩下的蛋清，我搂着娘嚎啕大哭。说什么也不肯吃鸡蛋了，爹知道原委后气得要用棍子打娘。最后我妥协，前提就是我们三人一块吃。虽然他们同意了，但每次也就象征性的用牙齿碰一下。
庄上的人从来不叫我名字，都叫我是瘸瞎子家的。爹娘一听到有人这样叫我必定会跟那人拼命。娘看不见就会拿了砖块乱砸，嘴上还骂着：你们这些杀千刀的，我们瘸瞎，我娃好好的，就不许你们这样叫唤。将来你们一个都不如我娃。
那年中考，瘸瞎子家的考了全县第一的喜讯 让爹娘着实风光了一把。镇上替我们家出了所有的学杂费，送我上学的那天爹第一次出了山。上车的那会，我眼泪扑剌剌的直掉，爹一手拄着拐一手替我擦泪：进了城要好好学，以后就在城里找工作娶媳妇。别人问起你爹娘你就说你是孤儿，没爹娘，不然别人会看不起你。特别是娶不上媳妇，人家会嫌弃你。误了你娶媳妇，我都无脸去见老祖。
爹！我让爹别在说了，这是什么话，还没有用呢咋就不认爹娘呢？娘也说这是真话，要听。你不记得在学校里吗？只要说你是瘸瞎子家的，别人就会拿白眼挤兑你。刚开始连老师都不喜欢你。以后，你带了城里媳妇回家就说俺们是你的堂叔和堂婶。娘说完就在那抹泪。爹说，不要把媳妇带回家，一带回来你娘忍不住就会露馅的。然后往我怀里揣了十个熟鸡蛋就拖着娘走了。
我的眼泪也扑剌剌地往下掉，残疾不是他们的错，那是老天对他们的不公。但他们却生了一个完美的天池给我。这个傻天池，这样的爹娘，无法再完美了。我很生气，他怎么就这么小看我呢？
那后来，你就告诉你媳妇他们是你堂叔和堂婶？我敲过去这句话。
本来我不信。媳妇找的是我又不是爹娘，为啥爹娘都不能认呢？不过我在外十年，爹娘一次都没去过我的学校。第一年工作，我想带他们进城玩玩，他们都不肯，说让人晓得我爹娘是残疾人会在我脸上抹黑，影响我娶媳妇。一辈子都在山里了不想出去了。娘还说她就是从城里来的，也没啥意思。
后来，我谈了第一个女朋友，当我认为时机差不多的时候，就带她回了趟家。谁知到家后，她晚饭都没留下吃一顿就走了，我追出去她说，和这样的人过日子她一天都过不下去。
还说我们家基因有问题，以后的小孩肯定也不会健康。我气得让她有多远滚多远。回到家，娘在那哭，爹也骂我。说我不听他们的话，非要断了咱家的香火不可。
后来，我遇上了第二个女朋友，就是现在我的老婆。我很爱她，做梦都怕失去她，她们家又很有钱，亲戚都是些上等人家，有了前车之鉴我很害怕只能不孝了。但是一到逢年过节我就想他们，心里堵得慌，难受。
那你从来就没有告诉过你老婆？也许她不计较这些呢？
我没说过，也不敢说。如果她同意了我想我岳母也不会同意的。我和她们住在一起，岳父在外是有脸面的人。如果爹娘来了不是在他们脸上抹黑吗？我也只能在出差学习的时候偷偷回去看上两眼。谢谢你听我说了这么多，现在我的心里舒服多了。
下了网，我依旧没有觉意。都说儿不嫌母丑，狗不嫌家贫，看看我们都做了什么？我理解天池的无奈，也了解他爹娘的苦衷。但他们不知道却将无辜的我陷入了无情无义的逆境之中。
天将放亮时，我敲开了部门经理的门，告诉他下面的事情请他全权处理，我有点非常重要的事情尽快要办，一切就拜托他了。然后简单收拾一下行李我就直奔火车站。还好，赶得上头班列车。
那条山路确实很难走。刚开始腿上还有点劲，后来脚上磨起了泡我就再也走不动了。正是中午时分，太阳又晒得厉害，我只有喘气的份。背来的水差不多快喝完了，我也不知道下面还有多少路程要走。脱下鞋子挤了水泡，那一会疼得我都哭出声来，真想打个电话让天池来接我回家，最后还是忍住了。从路边揪一把芦苇花垫在脚底，感觉脚上舒服多了。想到天池的爹娘此时还在家劳作着腿上忽的一下就来了劲，站起来继续往前走。
当老村长把我领到天池家门口的时候，那一片烧得红红的晚霞正照在他们家门口的老枣树上。枣树下坐着堂叔，哦不、是天池的爹，爹比结婚时看到的老多了，手上剥着玉米，拐杖安静地倚在他那条残缺的腿上。娘跪在地上准备收晒好的玉米，手正一把一把地往里撸。
这，宛如一幅画，而画中便是这世上最完美的爹娘。
我一步一步地往他们跟前走着，爹看到了我，手中的玉米掉在了地上，嘴巴张得老大，吃惊地问：你、你咋过来了？
娘在一旁摸索着问：他爹，谁来啦？
天、天池家的。
啊！在、在哪？娘惊慌失措地找着我的方向。
我弯腰放下行李，然后一把抓着她的手，对着他们，带着深深地痛、重重地跪了下去：爹！娘！我来接你们回家了！
爹干咳了两下，泪无声地从爬满皱纹的脸上流出。
俺就说，俺的娃没白养阿！娘把双手在自个身上来回的搓，然后一把抱住我，一行行的泪水从她空洞的眼里热热地流进我的脖子里。
我带爹娘走的时候村里是放了鞭炮的。我又为爹娘风光了一次。
当天池打开门，看到一左一右站在我身边的爹和娘时吃惊不小，怔怔地愣在那，一语未发。
我说：天池，我是读你的人。我把咱爹娘接回来了。这么完美的爹娘，你怎么舍得把他们丢在山里？
天池泣不成声，紧紧的抱住我，像他娘一样把一行泪流进我的脖子里。
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Random
“做人没有毅力， 欠要求，到头来只会一事无成，儿子”
~香港连续剧“公主嫁到”二娘对她儿子说的话~
"God wants our emotions to follow our lead, not lead our lives."
"遵守律法，才能得着平安。"
"I don't wait for moods. You accomplish nothing if you do that. Your mind must know it has got to get down to earth. Do what you should do, when you should do it, whether you feel like it or not."
"Every move we make and every action we take, matters not just for us, but for all of us...and for all time."
"act your way into a feeling than to feel your way into an action. “Fake it ‘til you make it” "
"人生不可能總是順心如意, 但持續朝著陽光走，影子就會躲在後面, 刺眼，卻是對的方向。"
~Mr.Giddens. -- 九把刀~
~香港连续剧“公主嫁到”二娘对她儿子说的话~
"God wants our emotions to follow our lead, not lead our lives."
"遵守律法，才能得着平安。"
"I don't wait for moods. You accomplish nothing if you do that. Your mind must know it has got to get down to earth. Do what you should do, when you should do it, whether you feel like it or not."
"Every move we make and every action we take, matters not just for us, but for all of us...and for all time."
"act your way into a feeling than to feel your way into an action. “Fake it ‘til you make it” "
"人生不可能總是順心如意, 但持續朝著陽光走，影子就會躲在後面, 刺眼，卻是對的方向。"
~Mr.Giddens. -- 九把刀~
“做人就是要努力付出过才会不枉此生。如果一味的懒惰，什么都不作，不愿为自己的梦想牺牲，付出。到头来，只会对人生对自己更加的失望， 并对任何事失去兴趣，变得更加懒惰更加的空虚。假以时日，回头看时就会懊悔一生。
如果没有明确的梦想，那先不论自己的梦想是什么。就算是不喜欢做的事情，只要对所有事情都全力以赴用心的去付出，全力以赴用心的去做的更好，去拼命，燃烧生命。就算没有什么成就，只要用心，努力，的去生活，那么就会发现自己没有慌渡生命，就会发现每件事其实都很有趣，人生也会更有活力更精彩。
只要用心，用尽全力，全力以赴去做好每一件事情，用心，用尽全力，全力以赴去做好人生中自己扮演的每一个角色（自己，人子，兄弟，朋友，爱人，学生，BB军官，神的儿女，Elmo的爸爸），就可以不枉此生！”
~看过动漫“会长是女仆大人”后所悟。此动漫里，大家，特别是会长，都很努力，用心，全力以赴去生活，去做好自己。~
如果没有明确的梦想，那先不论自己的梦想是什么。就算是不喜欢做的事情，只要对所有事情都全力以赴用心的去付出，全力以赴用心的去做的更好，去拼命，燃烧生命。就算没有什么成就，只要用心，努力，的去生活，那么就会发现自己没有慌渡生命，就会发现每件事其实都很有趣，人生也会更有活力更精彩。
只要用心，用尽全力，全力以赴去做好每一件事情，用心，用尽全力，全力以赴去做好人生中自己扮演的每一个角色（自己，人子，兄弟，朋友，爱人，学生，BB军官，神的儿女，Elmo的爸爸），就可以不枉此生！”
~看过动漫“会长是女仆大人”后所悟。此动漫里，大家，特别是会长，都很努力，用心，全力以赴去生活，去做好自己。~
Raising Kids Who Pray
Raising Kids Who Pray
By Cheryl Sacks 5/27/2009 6:19:33 PM
My friend’s nine-year-old son came home crestfallen from Sunday school one day. “What’s wrong?” his mother asked.
“They wouldn’t pray for my prayer request,” said the boy. “I wanted to pray about the panda bears in China, but they said we should pray for personal things. Why couldn’t we pray about the pandas, Mom?”
I’m sure the Sunday school teacher at my friend’s church wasn’t trying to be insensitive about the dwindling population of pandas in China; but unfortunately, he or she missed an opportunity to affirm the boy’s faith and expectation, two powerful motivating factors when it comes to equipping and empowering children in prayer. Children are motivated to pray about the things that touch their hearts—friends, family, teachers, even pets. We often smile at the innocence of their prayers, some of them quite nonreligious. But that’s the way we want them to pray—naturally.
As they learn to approach their heavenly Father with their daily concerns and needs—and see Him answer—children learn to trust Him as the one who can fight their battles and those of the people they love. They learn to look to Him to provide for them, defend them, and to intervene in the world in real and powerful ways. If we are not quick to listen to even what may seem like “out of the box” prayer concerns, we may miss hearing that child’s heart.
Children, after all, are closer than adults to the approach Jesus tells us to take in prayer: with personal expectation and from the standpoint of a father-child relationship. “Ask and it shall be given to you,” He says in Matthew 7. “Seek, and you shall find . . . if you then know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!” This is how children still look at the world.
For all their innocence, children’s prayers, though not as articulate as adults’, are worth listening to. Children, it turns out, share many of our same concerns. Hillary, a small friend of mine, was five or six when she became deeply concerned for a friend in her neighborhood. The little girl was suffering constant respiratory distress as a result of her parents’ smoking in the home. Powerless to help her friend by any physical means, Hillary began to pray that God would move the parents to quit smoking and provide relief for her friend. Sure enough, within a couple of months, without anyone saying a word to them, both parents quit smoking!
And it’s not only personal problems. Children as young as three and four years old can also be sensitive to poverty, hunger, crime, and divorce. I once attended a church service where children and youth were invited to join adults on the platform to help lead in prayer. “Would you pray for the hurting and abused children in the world?” the speaker asked, handing the microphone to a five-year-old boy. With stammering lips and a shaking voice the child began to pray. As he continued to pray for his generation I was amazed at his clarity and focus. “God make the mothers and fathers stop fighting,” he cried. “Tell them it’s hurting their kids.” Another child prayed for the salvation of young people who did not know Christ. Others prayed for revival in their schools and that our nation would return to God. The simplicity of their prayers, accompanied by humility and brokenness, brought tremendous conviction to the hearts of everyone in the room.
The immediacy of children’s prayers can continue through high school. When our daughter Nicole was a junior in high school she started a citywide prayer ministry called Sacred Edge. The first Friday night of every month young people from around the Phoenix area gathered to call out to God for the things affecting their generation—fatherlessness, drugs, loneliness.
These were some gutsy prayers, maybe even what some of us would consider a little “raw.” Yet I would rather see a young person pray prayers from the heart than the most eloquent rote prayer. Jesus spoke to this difference: “When you are praying, do not use meaningless repetition” (Matthew 6:7).
Photo: Jupiterimages/Getty Images
Kids don’t have to wing it all the time: memorized prayers have their place in launching our children’s prayer lives too. The Lord’s Prayer is a biblical framework to help children consider topics of prayer they might not otherwise think about. When Nicole was little, we would pray the Lord’s Prayer together line by line, stopping at each point to pray extemporaneously. What are our temptations? In what ways do we, personally, need deliverance from evil? How do we need to forgive and be forgiven?
The Psalms are another resource for Scriptural prayer for kids. Psalm 91, which talks about God being our refuge and fortress, makes a great prayer for protection. Children can visualize the description of God’s wings covering us in their white feathers, as the Psalmist tells us that we need not fear (vs. 4, 5). This is powerful imagery that can bring great comfort to a child in times of distress. “Lord, cover me with Your powerful wings of protection. I know You will take care of me. Help me not to be afraid.”
Children need to know the name of the Lord is a strong tower; they can run into it and are safe (Prov. 18:10). By praying these Scriptures, they can turn a feeling of powerlessness (very common for children) into confidence that though they may be small, they can pray powerful, strong prayers in Jesus’ name and He will help them.
Scriptural prayers are a great help, too, for adults who are uncertain about their own ability to pray. Here are some additional practical ideas to help you get started, no matter how old (or how young) your children are:
1. Invite your own children into your prayer time. When they see you pouring out your heart in a natural way to God, it will encourage them to do the same. What would a child watching your prayer life learn? If children see us praying in dull, repetitious ways, they’ll get a picture of prayer opposite to what we want them to see. But if we pray from the heart, kids will see the freshness and power of our relationship with God.
2. Create a time for family prayer. It may be extended prayer at meals, at bedtime, or a special weekly gathering. In this way, children learn to pray by listening, watching, and participating. This special prayer time will not only help connect the hearts each family member with the Lord but also with one another.
3. Allow children to be a part of corporate prayer times in your place of worship. Children need to see people of all ages in communication with God—and to hear about the answers to those prayers. Churches need to communicate to children that their prayers and concerns are just as powerful and valued as those of adults.
4. Give kids visuals to help motivate their prayers for issues outside of their own lives and relationships. Children do not think abstractly as adults do. Pictures (such as those from magazines or of children in need around the world) can show them real needs and evoke the kind of emotional response that is necessary to pray prayers from the heart.
5. Help children get to know their heavenly Father. This is perhaps the most crucial point of all. That is because it is more important for them to get to know the Person to whom they are praying than it is for them to pray perfect prayers. They need to realize that prayer is a relationship, not a religious activity, nor is it a “magic” formula. It is important children understand they are praying to their loving heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ—they aren’t just wishing upon a star or thinking nice thoughts.
6. As soon as your child is ready, lead him or her in a prayer to receive Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. It’s after all the most important heartfelt prayer he or she will ever pray!
Cheryl Sacks is a conference speaker, local church prayer consultant, and author of The Prayer Saturated Church—A Comprehensive Handbook for Prayer Leaders and co-author of Prayer Saturated Kids—Equipping and Empowering Children in Prayer (NavPress). Cheryl and her husband Hal are co-founders of BridgeBuilders Int’l Leadership Network, a Christian ministry in Phoenix, Ariz.
~Adapted from: http://www.purposedriven.com/article.html?c=140077&l=1~
By Cheryl Sacks 5/27/2009 6:19:33 PM
My friend’s nine-year-old son came home crestfallen from Sunday school one day. “What’s wrong?” his mother asked.
“They wouldn’t pray for my prayer request,” said the boy. “I wanted to pray about the panda bears in China, but they said we should pray for personal things. Why couldn’t we pray about the pandas, Mom?”
I’m sure the Sunday school teacher at my friend’s church wasn’t trying to be insensitive about the dwindling population of pandas in China; but unfortunately, he or she missed an opportunity to affirm the boy’s faith and expectation, two powerful motivating factors when it comes to equipping and empowering children in prayer. Children are motivated to pray about the things that touch their hearts—friends, family, teachers, even pets. We often smile at the innocence of their prayers, some of them quite nonreligious. But that’s the way we want them to pray—naturally.
As they learn to approach their heavenly Father with their daily concerns and needs—and see Him answer—children learn to trust Him as the one who can fight their battles and those of the people they love. They learn to look to Him to provide for them, defend them, and to intervene in the world in real and powerful ways. If we are not quick to listen to even what may seem like “out of the box” prayer concerns, we may miss hearing that child’s heart.
Children, after all, are closer than adults to the approach Jesus tells us to take in prayer: with personal expectation and from the standpoint of a father-child relationship. “Ask and it shall be given to you,” He says in Matthew 7. “Seek, and you shall find . . . if you then know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!” This is how children still look at the world.
For all their innocence, children’s prayers, though not as articulate as adults’, are worth listening to. Children, it turns out, share many of our same concerns. Hillary, a small friend of mine, was five or six when she became deeply concerned for a friend in her neighborhood. The little girl was suffering constant respiratory distress as a result of her parents’ smoking in the home. Powerless to help her friend by any physical means, Hillary began to pray that God would move the parents to quit smoking and provide relief for her friend. Sure enough, within a couple of months, without anyone saying a word to them, both parents quit smoking!
And it’s not only personal problems. Children as young as three and four years old can also be sensitive to poverty, hunger, crime, and divorce. I once attended a church service where children and youth were invited to join adults on the platform to help lead in prayer. “Would you pray for the hurting and abused children in the world?” the speaker asked, handing the microphone to a five-year-old boy. With stammering lips and a shaking voice the child began to pray. As he continued to pray for his generation I was amazed at his clarity and focus. “God make the mothers and fathers stop fighting,” he cried. “Tell them it’s hurting their kids.” Another child prayed for the salvation of young people who did not know Christ. Others prayed for revival in their schools and that our nation would return to God. The simplicity of their prayers, accompanied by humility and brokenness, brought tremendous conviction to the hearts of everyone in the room.
The immediacy of children’s prayers can continue through high school. When our daughter Nicole was a junior in high school she started a citywide prayer ministry called Sacred Edge. The first Friday night of every month young people from around the Phoenix area gathered to call out to God for the things affecting their generation—fatherlessness, drugs, loneliness.
These were some gutsy prayers, maybe even what some of us would consider a little “raw.” Yet I would rather see a young person pray prayers from the heart than the most eloquent rote prayer. Jesus spoke to this difference: “When you are praying, do not use meaningless repetition” (Matthew 6:7).
Photo: Jupiterimages/Getty Images
Kids don’t have to wing it all the time: memorized prayers have their place in launching our children’s prayer lives too. The Lord’s Prayer is a biblical framework to help children consider topics of prayer they might not otherwise think about. When Nicole was little, we would pray the Lord’s Prayer together line by line, stopping at each point to pray extemporaneously. What are our temptations? In what ways do we, personally, need deliverance from evil? How do we need to forgive and be forgiven?
The Psalms are another resource for Scriptural prayer for kids. Psalm 91, which talks about God being our refuge and fortress, makes a great prayer for protection. Children can visualize the description of God’s wings covering us in their white feathers, as the Psalmist tells us that we need not fear (vs. 4, 5). This is powerful imagery that can bring great comfort to a child in times of distress. “Lord, cover me with Your powerful wings of protection. I know You will take care of me. Help me not to be afraid.”
Children need to know the name of the Lord is a strong tower; they can run into it and are safe (Prov. 18:10). By praying these Scriptures, they can turn a feeling of powerlessness (very common for children) into confidence that though they may be small, they can pray powerful, strong prayers in Jesus’ name and He will help them.
Scriptural prayers are a great help, too, for adults who are uncertain about their own ability to pray. Here are some additional practical ideas to help you get started, no matter how old (or how young) your children are:
1. Invite your own children into your prayer time. When they see you pouring out your heart in a natural way to God, it will encourage them to do the same. What would a child watching your prayer life learn? If children see us praying in dull, repetitious ways, they’ll get a picture of prayer opposite to what we want them to see. But if we pray from the heart, kids will see the freshness and power of our relationship with God.
2. Create a time for family prayer. It may be extended prayer at meals, at bedtime, or a special weekly gathering. In this way, children learn to pray by listening, watching, and participating. This special prayer time will not only help connect the hearts each family member with the Lord but also with one another.
3. Allow children to be a part of corporate prayer times in your place of worship. Children need to see people of all ages in communication with God—and to hear about the answers to those prayers. Churches need to communicate to children that their prayers and concerns are just as powerful and valued as those of adults.
4. Give kids visuals to help motivate their prayers for issues outside of their own lives and relationships. Children do not think abstractly as adults do. Pictures (such as those from magazines or of children in need around the world) can show them real needs and evoke the kind of emotional response that is necessary to pray prayers from the heart.
5. Help children get to know their heavenly Father. This is perhaps the most crucial point of all. That is because it is more important for them to get to know the Person to whom they are praying than it is for them to pray perfect prayers. They need to realize that prayer is a relationship, not a religious activity, nor is it a “magic” formula. It is important children understand they are praying to their loving heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ—they aren’t just wishing upon a star or thinking nice thoughts.
6. As soon as your child is ready, lead him or her in a prayer to receive Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. It’s after all the most important heartfelt prayer he or she will ever pray!
Cheryl Sacks is a conference speaker, local church prayer consultant, and author of The Prayer Saturated Church—A Comprehensive Handbook for Prayer Leaders and co-author of Prayer Saturated Kids—Equipping and Empowering Children in Prayer (NavPress). Cheryl and her husband Hal are co-founders of BridgeBuilders Int’l Leadership Network, a Christian ministry in Phoenix, Ariz.
~Adapted from: http://www.purposedriven.com/article.html?c=140077&l=1~
‘爱’
‘爱’
刚看到一则小故事，和你们分享一下。
上课了。老教授面带微笑，走进教室，对同学们说：“我受一 家机构委托，来做一项问卷调查，请同学们帮个忙。”一听这 话，教室里轻微的一阵议论：问卷？比上课有趣多了。
问卷表发下来，同学们一看，只有两道题。
1、他很爱她。她细细的瓜子脸，弯弯的娥眉，面色白皙，美 丽动人。可是有一天，她不幸遇上了车祸，痊愈后，脸上留 下几道大大的丑陋疤痕。你觉得，他会一如既往地爱她吗？
A、他一定会 B、他一定不会 C、他可能会
2、她很爱他。他是商界的精英，儒雅沉稳，敢打敢拼。忽然有 一天，他破产了。你觉得，她还会像以前一样爱他吗？
A、她一定会 B、她一定不会 C、她可能会
一会儿，同学们就做好了。问卷收上来，教授一统计，发现： 第一题有10%的同学选A，10%的同学选B，80%的 同学选C。第二题呢，30%的同学选了A，30%的同学选 B，40%的同学选C。
“看来，美女毁容比男人破产，更让人不能容忍啊。”教授笑 了，“做这两题时，潜意识里，你们是不是把他和她当成了恋人 关系？”
“是啊。”同学们答得很整齐。
“可是，题目本身并没有说他和她是恋人关系啊？”教授似有 深意地看着大家，“现在，我们来假设一下，如果，第一题 中的‘他’是‘她’的父亲，第二题中的‘她’是‘他’的 母亲。让你把这两道题重新做一遍，你还会坚持原来的选择 吗？”
问卷再次发到同学们的手中，教室里忽然变得非常宁静，一张 张年青的面庞变得凝重而深沉。几分钟后，问卷收了上来，教授 再一统计，两道题，同学们都100%地选了A。
教授的语调深沉而动情：“这个世界上，有一种爱，亘古绵长， 无私无求；不因季节更替。不因名利浮沉，这就是父母的爱 啊！”
看了，想了，懂了，别忘了世上最爱我们的人就是家里的父母。 想家了给家里打个电话，过节了给父母发条短信，父母其 实很容易满足的，我们一个小小的举动就能给父母带来无限的感 动。
善待自己的父母，他们永远是最爱你们的。
[他们，是我们人生的起点。]
~转自铁血社/猫扑 mop.com~
刚看到一则小故事，和你们分享一下。
上课了。老教授面带微笑，走进教室，对同学们说：“我受一 家机构委托，来做一项问卷调查，请同学们帮个忙。”一听这 话，教室里轻微的一阵议论：问卷？比上课有趣多了。
问卷表发下来，同学们一看，只有两道题。
1、他很爱她。她细细的瓜子脸，弯弯的娥眉，面色白皙，美 丽动人。可是有一天，她不幸遇上了车祸，痊愈后，脸上留 下几道大大的丑陋疤痕。你觉得，他会一如既往地爱她吗？
A、他一定会 B、他一定不会 C、他可能会
2、她很爱他。他是商界的精英，儒雅沉稳，敢打敢拼。忽然有 一天，他破产了。你觉得，她还会像以前一样爱他吗？
A、她一定会 B、她一定不会 C、她可能会
一会儿，同学们就做好了。问卷收上来，教授一统计，发现： 第一题有10%的同学选A，10%的同学选B，80%的 同学选C。第二题呢，30%的同学选了A，30%的同学选 B，40%的同学选C。
“看来，美女毁容比男人破产，更让人不能容忍啊。”教授笑 了，“做这两题时，潜意识里，你们是不是把他和她当成了恋人 关系？”
“是啊。”同学们答得很整齐。
“可是，题目本身并没有说他和她是恋人关系啊？”教授似有 深意地看着大家，“现在，我们来假设一下，如果，第一题 中的‘他’是‘她’的父亲，第二题中的‘她’是‘他’的 母亲。让你把这两道题重新做一遍，你还会坚持原来的选择 吗？”
问卷再次发到同学们的手中，教室里忽然变得非常宁静，一张 张年青的面庞变得凝重而深沉。几分钟后，问卷收了上来，教授 再一统计，两道题，同学们都100%地选了A。
教授的语调深沉而动情：“这个世界上，有一种爱，亘古绵长， 无私无求；不因季节更替。不因名利浮沉，这就是父母的爱 啊！”
看了，想了，懂了，别忘了世上最爱我们的人就是家里的父母。 想家了给家里打个电话，过节了给父母发条短信，父母其 实很容易满足的，我们一个小小的举动就能给父母带来无限的感 动。
善待自己的父母，他们永远是最爱你们的。
[他们，是我们人生的起点。]
~转自铁血社/猫扑 mop.com~
Hooray for Godlywood
Hooray for Godlywood
By Christopher W. Davis 4/22/2009 11:57:37 AM
Not much happens in Albany, Georgia. Or so it seems. Yes, the town is the commercial center of southwestern Georgia, the birthplace of Ray Charles, the site of Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1961 “America’s shame” speech that led to his arrest, the pecan and quail-hunting capital of the world. But for the most part Albany has escaped the glare of national attention. So it was something of a surprise last fall when the associate pastor of one of the town’s 106 Baptist churches found himself on the phone with a newsman from The Hollywood Reporter.
The journalist was looking at the latest list of new movies, and here was this mini-budget, Christian film, Fireproof, coming out of nowhere—from the Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia, of all places—blowing everyone out of the water by opening at No. 4, beating out even Spike Lee’s hyper-hyped $45 million World War II epic, Miracle at St. Anna.
“Who in the world are you guys?” he asked, bewildered.
The associate pastor, Alex Kendrick, smiled. He loves it when the power of prayer stuns people.
In the past six years, Alex, 38, and his brother and fellow minister, Stephen, 35, have made three micro-budget movies that are redefining faith-based films—Flywheel (2003), a morality tale about a used-car salesman who saves his business by turning it over to God, Facing the Giants (2006), in which an underdog high school football team wins the big one with coaching tips from Scripture, and Fireproof (2008), in which a troubled fire chief rekindles his fractured marriage through faith. Together the three have grossed more than $55 million at the box office, and DVD sales have broken records at Christian bookstores. Plus, a book on marriage, spun from Fireproof, has been on The New York Times best-seller list for months.
Total costs for all three films? A mere $620,000, a figure well below what most big-time Hollywood producers spend on catering costs for just one movie, let alone three. That’s because most producers don’t have a 3,000-member congregation volunteering to work in front of or behind the camera. Sherwood members learned lighting, sound, makeup, costumes, sets on the job. They made up the cast. And the Kendrick brothers handled the writing, directing, producing, and editing. Alex even starred in the first two films.
While production values were admittedly rough in the first film, they grew solidly by the third without losing the homespun quality audiences seem to like. “People connect to these stories,” says Kris Fuhr, a marketing executive at Sony’s Provident Films, Fireproof’s distributor. “People look up on the screen and not only see themselves, they see their neighbors, friends, and coworkers.”
The films get high ratings on movie Websites. They have been credited with saving marriages, inspiring upset football victories, and reforming sleazy businessmen. They helped refine a grassroots marketing method for Christian films with hundreds of sneak previews at churches around the country—an effort that created a sense of “cause” around the film. And, happily for Sherwood, they have Hollywood clamoring for more. “I would love to have them deliver a picture or two every year,” says Meyer Gottlieb, president of Samuel Goldwyn Films. “That would be terrific.”
So, as the reporter from Hollywood asked, who are these guys—these Christian Coen brothers—and how did they do it? Their tale is one of perseverance, luck, an uncanny knack for storytelling, and faith. Mostly faith. “I think it’s because God helped us because we prayed,” says Alex. “We’re just hometown boys with a video camera. Logically it doesn’t make sense that the movies are working the way they are working.”
Their story opens in Smyrna, a suburb of Atlanta. In 1977, the Kendricks—Larry and Rhonwyn and their three sons, Shannon, 11, Alex, 8, and Stephen, 5—moved next to a family with children the same age and a father with a camcorder. The gang started filming skits, and commercials for made-up products—Stephen, for example, sweltering with rake and hoe in the hot sun to promote “Okra Cola.”
When video cameras became popular in the 1980s, the three Kendrick brothers advanced to secret agent movies that involved more kids from the neighborhood. They created numerous chase-’em-down-and-beat-’em-ups, plus an imaginative thriller called Mr. Tapeball, about an enormous ball of tape that takes over a church, devouring the ministers one by one. In lieu of book reports or science projects, they made movies and more movies.
But when it came to college, none of the boys chose film school. Shannon got an engineering degree from Georgia Tech and Alex and Stephen decided to join the ministry. They both went to Kennesaw State University, and they both landed jobs at the 5,000-member Roswell Street Baptist Church in Marietta. Alex worked with college students, Stephen oversaw the middle school kids. Both used filmmaking as a teaching tool.
Photos: Quantrell Colbert
Michael Catt, Alex Kendrick, and Jim McBride stand in front of the fire station where they filmed much of Fireproof.
In 1998, a friend from Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia, invited Alex to share his video skills at a Christian summer camp. Alex’s creative energy caught the attention of Sherwood’s senior pastor, Michael Catt, who was reshaping Sherwood using Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Church as a guide.
Pastor Catt wanted to find a balance of worship, discipleship, fellowship, ministry, and evangelism—and hoped one day he could take the gospel to the world.
During their first interview, Alex told Catt that his dream was to make full-length movies, to minister through film. From the dawn of time to today, Alex said, everybody liked hearing a good story. Nothing had changed except the avenue for telling them. Movies could be the ideal tool for Sherwood’s mission to reach the world.
Catt agreed, but for the moment he wanted Alex to run the church’s 24-hour cable TV station. That sounded impressive, but the “channel” was little more than a PowerPoint scroll of community announcements. Alex started producing inspirational programs as well as Christian versions of funniest home videos.
Then in 2002, a year after Stephen Kendrick joined his brother at Sherwood, Alex convinced Catt to make a movie. The audience would be the congregation, viewers of the TV station, and maybe people at a local theater. All he would need was a camera, some lenses, a new computer to edit on, and a few lights from Home Depot. He could pull it off, he said, for under $20,000.
Catt agreed, on two conditions. “First, you can take no money out of the church budget,” he told Alex. “So if this is of God, then you will have to pray the money in. Secondly, it cannot interfere with your ongoing job.”
Alex conceived a screenplay about a crooked used-car salesman who is having trouble in his business—and at home—because he is a cheat. His heart is not working properly; he’s like a car with no flywheel, the weighted disc that keeps engines running steady and even.
Catt loved the idea. But he allowed no soliciting for funds or announcements at services. The Kendricks could only post a notice in the prayer tower, a room where church members can visit to pray at any time. Amazingly, the $20,000 goal was soon reached, Alex got the green light and Flywheel started rolling.
Alex held no auditions. He simply invited church members with a taste for drama to help out. Shooting on Saturdays and lunch breaks, Alex cast himself in the lead role by default: He was the only person who could make himself available whenever the director wanted—because he was the director. The shooting schedule was haphazard. Alex would call around in the morning: “What are you doing from 11 to 1? Can we finish that scene we started three weeks ago? What were you wearing again?”
Once filming ended, Alex started stitching scenes together on his new computer. But he didn’t like what he saw. Stephen, who had been too busy to help much beyond offering plot ideas, saw that his brother was discouraged and stepped in. He quoted Psalm 127:1: “Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.”
In other words, he told his brother, nothing can be successfully completed without the help of God. Pray and then finish the movie.
While Alex continued to edit, Stephen got a local theater to agree to give Flywheel a five-day run on one of its 16 screens, as “a good investment in the community.” The date was set for April 9, 2003. Stephen started putting up billboards announcing the movie all over town.
Then, with just three weeks to go, the storage disc, with 30 minutes of edited film, was knocked off a table and broken. They had no backup. At least 60 hours of work were lost. The brothers prayed, as did members of the congregation. Then Alex went back to editing, getting little sleep for the next 21 days.
He finished at 6:30 a.m., April 9. He burned a DVD and rushed it to the movie house, never watching it from beginning to end. At 1:00 p.m., cast and crew showed up for the first screening. As Alex prayed that the movie would make it to the end without messing up, he saw people all around him crying and laughing in all the right places. They rose and cheered at the end. Is this really working? he wondered.
It was. Flywheel ran for six weeks in Albany, outlasting 12 Hollywood feature films, and going neck and neck for the highest ticket sales with Jack Nicholson’s Anger Management, which was on three screens. Most encouraging were the phone calls and e-mails; a used-car salesman making a stand for what’s right, come what may, struck a chord. People admitted they had gone to the movie to see how embarrassing it would be but were transformed. Flywheel made them think, made them want to change their ways, made them want to start running their businesses honestly and get right with their families and with God.
But when the brothers tried to get wider distribution, they were told that Flywheel didn’t have a Hollywood “look.” Eventually they found a fan in David Nixon, who owned a studio in Orlando that made commercials for DisneyWorld. Nixon thought Flywheel’s production quality, lighting, and sound were all terrible, but the storytelling moved him. “Guys, I’m sitting here crying like a baby,” he told the Kendricks. “I want to help you make your next movie.”
Six months later, they sent him a script for a football film called Facing the Giants. He read it, Nixon recalls, jumping up and down, cheering, laughing, crying. Afterward he called Alex and Stephen, and offered to find them experts in photography, sound and lighting. Those experts would cost $80,000 to $100,000.
Sherwood’s earnings from Flywheel had gone into the church’s general fund, so the filmmakers were financially back to square one. But word got out and checks soon started to arrive, including an anonymous one for $20,000.
The idea for Facing the Giants was based on the story of a man in a wheelchair trying to figure out how to help his son kick an impossibly long field goal—a thinly veiled invocation of their father, Larry, who suffered from multiple sclerosis for more than 20 years. Even though he was disabled, he had managed to found a successful Christian school and, in the process, inspire his sons. Where Flywheel dealt with honesty, Giants would be about facing the twin fears of failure and disgrace.
Again, by default, Alex played the lead role, this time of a despondent, losing high school football coach who turns around a miserable season and wins the state championship against a big, bad juggernaut of a team with a take-no-prisoners coach (played by executive minister Jim McBride, a burly former Marine and pro wrestler).
David Nixon’s professionals came to Albany and slept on the floor at a small missionary house. On their first day they ran a boot camp, breaking volunteers into groups: If you want to learn lighting, go over there, for make-up, that room, for sound, back there.
These seasoned pros had never been on a movie set like this. Each day began with prayer. Church members brought picnic baskets of fried chicken and sweet tea. There were no prima donnas, no hissy fits, no storming off the set. Every obstacle was met with a pause and huddle for prayer, and more often than not, it seemed, a solution would appear. At the end of six weeks it was like the end of summer camp, everyone crying, no one wanting to say goodbye.
Alex Kendrick and Michael Catt took Facing the Giants to some distributors in Hollywood. Their best offer was a deal to go directly to DVD, with no theatrical run. They went home discouraged, feeling a door had been shut.
A few days later Stephen called Provident Music Group in Franklin, Tennessee, to get formal permission to use a popular Christian rock song that was in one of the scenes. The money Provident wanted—“tens of thousands,” Stephen said—took his breath away. “We’re a church,” he pleaded. “The movie’s a ministry! Can’t you give us a break?”
They would have to see the movie first. When the DVD arrived, Terry Hemmings, president and chief executive of Provident, said he would give it a few minutes while he ate lunch, but that he had a one o’clock meeting. After 15 minutes, he canceled his one o’clock and called his staff in to watch with him. After 30 minutes, he told his assistant to book him a flight to Albany. By the time the movie was over, he called Stephen Kendrick, who was fishing with his son.
“We’re in,” Hemmings said simply.
“In?” Stephen asked. “What does that mean?”
“Not only can you use our song but we will help you get distribution.” Could Stephen please send a DVD to Provident’s parent company, Sony? He didn’t mention the company is one of the largest moviemakers in the world.
The Kendricks were hoping to get the movie released in as many as 15 theaters around Atlanta; Sony executives thought 441 theaters nationwide was more like it. As for publicity, the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) handed them a miracle. It gave Facing the Giants a PG rating. Dumbfounded, Provident asked why. Too much proselytizing, they were told. Parents might get upset.
A firestorm erupted in the media, especially on talk shows like Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Michael Reagan. Were we now adding Jesus to profanity, violence, witchcraft, drug use, nudity? Was being Christian now the new sin? The Los Angeles Times asked: What does PG stand for? Pro-God? Too much God in a movie?
The MPAA tried to backpedal, claiming the PG rating was for the football violence and the adult theme of infertility (one of the coach’s fears is possible sterility). But that didn’t quell the protests. The controversy stirred up so much publicity that some accused the church of fomenting it. But Stephen Kendrick insists, “We never complained. We were just watching it happen. We weren’t manipulating, we were praying.” In fact, the whole congregation had been praying. One day Provident’s overwhelmed publicist was on the phone joking with Stephen, “Tell your church to stop praying!”
On September 29, 2006, Facing the Giants opened nationwide, and before its 17-week theatrical run ended, it was on 1,010 screens, earned $10 million in theaters, sold over 2 million DVDs, and became the No. 1-selling product in Christian bookstores. It touched the lives of three million people in 56 countries, in 13 languages. Coaches of Arkansas and Mississippi State credit it with inspiring their upset victories over Auburn and Alabama respectively in the 2008 college football season. And its most celebrated scene—“The Death Crawl”—is a hit on YouTube and has become a staple in motivational seminars across corporate America, including those of Wal-Mart, Mary Kay, and Beth Moore. The scene depicts Kendrick as the coach pursuading one of his more dispirited players to crawl the entire 100-yard length of the field with another player on his back—blindfolded. The boy perseveres, learning the spiritual lesson of endurance and trust.
One day before Giants was released, Alex got the idea for their next movie while jogging. He wanted a film that didn’t just make the audience feel good, but also had an impact on culture. It would be about divorce, a tool for marriages in distress. A man would try to win back his estranged wife’s love by following a 40-day program in a book called The Love Dare. The plan would take the couple small step by small step (spend the day saying nothing negative, today do one nice thing) to a mastery of unconditional love.
Stephen loved the idea. He had been ministering to people with troubled marriages for years. But, he said, this couldn’t be a “chick flick.” They needed to connect with men, as they had with the first two films. They would make the main character a man’s man—a fire chief. They went to the local firehouse and began learning about the lives of firefighters, who have one of the highest divorce rates in the country.
The brothers decided to call the movie Fireproof, and to link marriages to the buddy code in firefighting—never leave your partner behind, especially in a perilous situation.
No fund-raising this time. Provident Films fronted the movie $500,000. Production quality improved immensely. They were also able to add star power: Kirk Cameron, from ABC’s 1980s hit sitcom, Growing Pains. Cameron, who was now focusing his career on independent films with religious themes, took no salary. But the church agreed to make a sizable contribution to Camp Firefly, a camp for kids with terminal illnesses and their families that Cameron and his wife, Chelsea Noble, founded and have run for 20 years.
The film company still prayed on the set and still maintained the volunteer feel of a community project. But to market this movie, Michael Catt decided to host two screenings of Fireproof, each with a total of 4,000 pastors and their wives, at the annual Southern Baptist Convention in Indianapolis. “Those are 4,000 megaphones that go out and say, ‘I just saw this movie,’ ” he says. Provident’s PR machine then kicked in, and more than 250 similar screenings followed, with an average audience of 500. “It feels like there were a million people,” Catt says. And it paid off big-time.
From all over the country, requests for advance copies of the movie came cascading into the little church in Albany, Georgia. Everyone wanted to show the movie to their groups. Catt told them they had to wait until September.
And so it was that Fireproof came roaring into 839 theaters on September 26, 2008, ranking No. 4 in box-office sales nationwide, blowing past such multimillion-dollar releases as Miracle at St. Anna and Choke, holding on to earn $33 million at the box office, and finishing as the No. 1 indie feature of 2008.
Booksellers, meanwhile, started being flooded with requests for copies of The Love Dare, which was little more than a blank-paged prop in the movie. Demand was so strong that the Kendrick brothers had to sit down and write it in a hurry. Published by B&H Group of Nashville, the book came out October 12 and spent the next three months jumping back and forth between No. 1 and No. 2 on The New York Times best-seller paperback advice list.
Sherwood does not discuss its share of movie income. But executive pastor Jim McBride does point out that after theater owners, distributors, advertisers, promoters, and others take their cut, there is a lot less left for the church than one might expect. Even so, he says, there has been enough to help pay down debt for Sherwood’s Generations campaign, an outreach program aimed at youth. Included is a new $5 million sanctuary and a $4 million sports park open to the public. It features tennis courts, jogging trails, fishing ponds, horse stables, baseball diamonds, and a bright white 10-story-high cross.
The moviemaking ministers of Sherwood won’t say what their next film will be about or when it will come out. But they will continue creating films with volunteers—people of faith—and the Kendrick brothers are not giving up their day jobs at the church.
“Our goal is to touch people’s lives with a message of faith, hope, and love,” says Stephen Kendrick. “Christians are almost never portrayed accurately in movies. They are always these backwoods, narrow-minded, judgmental, hateful, weird people. And we’re thinking, Here we live with awesome, wonderful, loving, patriotic people.”
His movies say, “Here’s who we really are,” he says. “Here’s what we believe, here’s what happens in our lives. God works. He answers prayers.”
~Adapted from: http://www.purposedriven.com/article.html?c=132174&l=1~
By Christopher W. Davis 4/22/2009 11:57:37 AM
Not much happens in Albany, Georgia. Or so it seems. Yes, the town is the commercial center of southwestern Georgia, the birthplace of Ray Charles, the site of Martin Luther King Jr.’s 1961 “America’s shame” speech that led to his arrest, the pecan and quail-hunting capital of the world. But for the most part Albany has escaped the glare of national attention. So it was something of a surprise last fall when the associate pastor of one of the town’s 106 Baptist churches found himself on the phone with a newsman from The Hollywood Reporter.
The journalist was looking at the latest list of new movies, and here was this mini-budget, Christian film, Fireproof, coming out of nowhere—from the Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia, of all places—blowing everyone out of the water by opening at No. 4, beating out even Spike Lee’s hyper-hyped $45 million World War II epic, Miracle at St. Anna.
“Who in the world are you guys?” he asked, bewildered.
The associate pastor, Alex Kendrick, smiled. He loves it when the power of prayer stuns people.
In the past six years, Alex, 38, and his brother and fellow minister, Stephen, 35, have made three micro-budget movies that are redefining faith-based films—Flywheel (2003), a morality tale about a used-car salesman who saves his business by turning it over to God, Facing the Giants (2006), in which an underdog high school football team wins the big one with coaching tips from Scripture, and Fireproof (2008), in which a troubled fire chief rekindles his fractured marriage through faith. Together the three have grossed more than $55 million at the box office, and DVD sales have broken records at Christian bookstores. Plus, a book on marriage, spun from Fireproof, has been on The New York Times best-seller list for months.
Total costs for all three films? A mere $620,000, a figure well below what most big-time Hollywood producers spend on catering costs for just one movie, let alone three. That’s because most producers don’t have a 3,000-member congregation volunteering to work in front of or behind the camera. Sherwood members learned lighting, sound, makeup, costumes, sets on the job. They made up the cast. And the Kendrick brothers handled the writing, directing, producing, and editing. Alex even starred in the first two films.
While production values were admittedly rough in the first film, they grew solidly by the third without losing the homespun quality audiences seem to like. “People connect to these stories,” says Kris Fuhr, a marketing executive at Sony’s Provident Films, Fireproof’s distributor. “People look up on the screen and not only see themselves, they see their neighbors, friends, and coworkers.”
The films get high ratings on movie Websites. They have been credited with saving marriages, inspiring upset football victories, and reforming sleazy businessmen. They helped refine a grassroots marketing method for Christian films with hundreds of sneak previews at churches around the country—an effort that created a sense of “cause” around the film. And, happily for Sherwood, they have Hollywood clamoring for more. “I would love to have them deliver a picture or two every year,” says Meyer Gottlieb, president of Samuel Goldwyn Films. “That would be terrific.”
So, as the reporter from Hollywood asked, who are these guys—these Christian Coen brothers—and how did they do it? Their tale is one of perseverance, luck, an uncanny knack for storytelling, and faith. Mostly faith. “I think it’s because God helped us because we prayed,” says Alex. “We’re just hometown boys with a video camera. Logically it doesn’t make sense that the movies are working the way they are working.”
Their story opens in Smyrna, a suburb of Atlanta. In 1977, the Kendricks—Larry and Rhonwyn and their three sons, Shannon, 11, Alex, 8, and Stephen, 5—moved next to a family with children the same age and a father with a camcorder. The gang started filming skits, and commercials for made-up products—Stephen, for example, sweltering with rake and hoe in the hot sun to promote “Okra Cola.”
When video cameras became popular in the 1980s, the three Kendrick brothers advanced to secret agent movies that involved more kids from the neighborhood. They created numerous chase-’em-down-and-beat-’em-ups, plus an imaginative thriller called Mr. Tapeball, about an enormous ball of tape that takes over a church, devouring the ministers one by one. In lieu of book reports or science projects, they made movies and more movies.
But when it came to college, none of the boys chose film school. Shannon got an engineering degree from Georgia Tech and Alex and Stephen decided to join the ministry. They both went to Kennesaw State University, and they both landed jobs at the 5,000-member Roswell Street Baptist Church in Marietta. Alex worked with college students, Stephen oversaw the middle school kids. Both used filmmaking as a teaching tool.
Photos: Quantrell Colbert
Michael Catt, Alex Kendrick, and Jim McBride stand in front of the fire station where they filmed much of Fireproof.
In 1998, a friend from Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia, invited Alex to share his video skills at a Christian summer camp. Alex’s creative energy caught the attention of Sherwood’s senior pastor, Michael Catt, who was reshaping Sherwood using Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Church as a guide.
Pastor Catt wanted to find a balance of worship, discipleship, fellowship, ministry, and evangelism—and hoped one day he could take the gospel to the world.
During their first interview, Alex told Catt that his dream was to make full-length movies, to minister through film. From the dawn of time to today, Alex said, everybody liked hearing a good story. Nothing had changed except the avenue for telling them. Movies could be the ideal tool for Sherwood’s mission to reach the world.
Catt agreed, but for the moment he wanted Alex to run the church’s 24-hour cable TV station. That sounded impressive, but the “channel” was little more than a PowerPoint scroll of community announcements. Alex started producing inspirational programs as well as Christian versions of funniest home videos.
Then in 2002, a year after Stephen Kendrick joined his brother at Sherwood, Alex convinced Catt to make a movie. The audience would be the congregation, viewers of the TV station, and maybe people at a local theater. All he would need was a camera, some lenses, a new computer to edit on, and a few lights from Home Depot. He could pull it off, he said, for under $20,000.
Catt agreed, on two conditions. “First, you can take no money out of the church budget,” he told Alex. “So if this is of God, then you will have to pray the money in. Secondly, it cannot interfere with your ongoing job.”
Alex conceived a screenplay about a crooked used-car salesman who is having trouble in his business—and at home—because he is a cheat. His heart is not working properly; he’s like a car with no flywheel, the weighted disc that keeps engines running steady and even.
Catt loved the idea. But he allowed no soliciting for funds or announcements at services. The Kendricks could only post a notice in the prayer tower, a room where church members can visit to pray at any time. Amazingly, the $20,000 goal was soon reached, Alex got the green light and Flywheel started rolling.
Alex held no auditions. He simply invited church members with a taste for drama to help out. Shooting on Saturdays and lunch breaks, Alex cast himself in the lead role by default: He was the only person who could make himself available whenever the director wanted—because he was the director. The shooting schedule was haphazard. Alex would call around in the morning: “What are you doing from 11 to 1? Can we finish that scene we started three weeks ago? What were you wearing again?”
Once filming ended, Alex started stitching scenes together on his new computer. But he didn’t like what he saw. Stephen, who had been too busy to help much beyond offering plot ideas, saw that his brother was discouraged and stepped in. He quoted Psalm 127:1: “Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.”
In other words, he told his brother, nothing can be successfully completed without the help of God. Pray and then finish the movie.
While Alex continued to edit, Stephen got a local theater to agree to give Flywheel a five-day run on one of its 16 screens, as “a good investment in the community.” The date was set for April 9, 2003. Stephen started putting up billboards announcing the movie all over town.
Then, with just three weeks to go, the storage disc, with 30 minutes of edited film, was knocked off a table and broken. They had no backup. At least 60 hours of work were lost. The brothers prayed, as did members of the congregation. Then Alex went back to editing, getting little sleep for the next 21 days.
He finished at 6:30 a.m., April 9. He burned a DVD and rushed it to the movie house, never watching it from beginning to end. At 1:00 p.m., cast and crew showed up for the first screening. As Alex prayed that the movie would make it to the end without messing up, he saw people all around him crying and laughing in all the right places. They rose and cheered at the end. Is this really working? he wondered.
It was. Flywheel ran for six weeks in Albany, outlasting 12 Hollywood feature films, and going neck and neck for the highest ticket sales with Jack Nicholson’s Anger Management, which was on three screens. Most encouraging were the phone calls and e-mails; a used-car salesman making a stand for what’s right, come what may, struck a chord. People admitted they had gone to the movie to see how embarrassing it would be but were transformed. Flywheel made them think, made them want to change their ways, made them want to start running their businesses honestly and get right with their families and with God.
But when the brothers tried to get wider distribution, they were told that Flywheel didn’t have a Hollywood “look.” Eventually they found a fan in David Nixon, who owned a studio in Orlando that made commercials for DisneyWorld. Nixon thought Flywheel’s production quality, lighting, and sound were all terrible, but the storytelling moved him. “Guys, I’m sitting here crying like a baby,” he told the Kendricks. “I want to help you make your next movie.”
Six months later, they sent him a script for a football film called Facing the Giants. He read it, Nixon recalls, jumping up and down, cheering, laughing, crying. Afterward he called Alex and Stephen, and offered to find them experts in photography, sound and lighting. Those experts would cost $80,000 to $100,000.
Sherwood’s earnings from Flywheel had gone into the church’s general fund, so the filmmakers were financially back to square one. But word got out and checks soon started to arrive, including an anonymous one for $20,000.
The idea for Facing the Giants was based on the story of a man in a wheelchair trying to figure out how to help his son kick an impossibly long field goal—a thinly veiled invocation of their father, Larry, who suffered from multiple sclerosis for more than 20 years. Even though he was disabled, he had managed to found a successful Christian school and, in the process, inspire his sons. Where Flywheel dealt with honesty, Giants would be about facing the twin fears of failure and disgrace.
Again, by default, Alex played the lead role, this time of a despondent, losing high school football coach who turns around a miserable season and wins the state championship against a big, bad juggernaut of a team with a take-no-prisoners coach (played by executive minister Jim McBride, a burly former Marine and pro wrestler).
David Nixon’s professionals came to Albany and slept on the floor at a small missionary house. On their first day they ran a boot camp, breaking volunteers into groups: If you want to learn lighting, go over there, for make-up, that room, for sound, back there.
These seasoned pros had never been on a movie set like this. Each day began with prayer. Church members brought picnic baskets of fried chicken and sweet tea. There were no prima donnas, no hissy fits, no storming off the set. Every obstacle was met with a pause and huddle for prayer, and more often than not, it seemed, a solution would appear. At the end of six weeks it was like the end of summer camp, everyone crying, no one wanting to say goodbye.
Alex Kendrick and Michael Catt took Facing the Giants to some distributors in Hollywood. Their best offer was a deal to go directly to DVD, with no theatrical run. They went home discouraged, feeling a door had been shut.
A few days later Stephen called Provident Music Group in Franklin, Tennessee, to get formal permission to use a popular Christian rock song that was in one of the scenes. The money Provident wanted—“tens of thousands,” Stephen said—took his breath away. “We’re a church,” he pleaded. “The movie’s a ministry! Can’t you give us a break?”
They would have to see the movie first. When the DVD arrived, Terry Hemmings, president and chief executive of Provident, said he would give it a few minutes while he ate lunch, but that he had a one o’clock meeting. After 15 minutes, he canceled his one o’clock and called his staff in to watch with him. After 30 minutes, he told his assistant to book him a flight to Albany. By the time the movie was over, he called Stephen Kendrick, who was fishing with his son.
“We’re in,” Hemmings said simply.
“In?” Stephen asked. “What does that mean?”
“Not only can you use our song but we will help you get distribution.” Could Stephen please send a DVD to Provident’s parent company, Sony? He didn’t mention the company is one of the largest moviemakers in the world.
The Kendricks were hoping to get the movie released in as many as 15 theaters around Atlanta; Sony executives thought 441 theaters nationwide was more like it. As for publicity, the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) handed them a miracle. It gave Facing the Giants a PG rating. Dumbfounded, Provident asked why. Too much proselytizing, they were told. Parents might get upset.
A firestorm erupted in the media, especially on talk shows like Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, and Michael Reagan. Were we now adding Jesus to profanity, violence, witchcraft, drug use, nudity? Was being Christian now the new sin? The Los Angeles Times asked: What does PG stand for? Pro-God? Too much God in a movie?
The MPAA tried to backpedal, claiming the PG rating was for the football violence and the adult theme of infertility (one of the coach’s fears is possible sterility). But that didn’t quell the protests. The controversy stirred up so much publicity that some accused the church of fomenting it. But Stephen Kendrick insists, “We never complained. We were just watching it happen. We weren’t manipulating, we were praying.” In fact, the whole congregation had been praying. One day Provident’s overwhelmed publicist was on the phone joking with Stephen, “Tell your church to stop praying!”
On September 29, 2006, Facing the Giants opened nationwide, and before its 17-week theatrical run ended, it was on 1,010 screens, earned $10 million in theaters, sold over 2 million DVDs, and became the No. 1-selling product in Christian bookstores. It touched the lives of three million people in 56 countries, in 13 languages. Coaches of Arkansas and Mississippi State credit it with inspiring their upset victories over Auburn and Alabama respectively in the 2008 college football season. And its most celebrated scene—“The Death Crawl”—is a hit on YouTube and has become a staple in motivational seminars across corporate America, including those of Wal-Mart, Mary Kay, and Beth Moore. The scene depicts Kendrick as the coach pursuading one of his more dispirited players to crawl the entire 100-yard length of the field with another player on his back—blindfolded. The boy perseveres, learning the spiritual lesson of endurance and trust.
One day before Giants was released, Alex got the idea for their next movie while jogging. He wanted a film that didn’t just make the audience feel good, but also had an impact on culture. It would be about divorce, a tool for marriages in distress. A man would try to win back his estranged wife’s love by following a 40-day program in a book called The Love Dare. The plan would take the couple small step by small step (spend the day saying nothing negative, today do one nice thing) to a mastery of unconditional love.
Stephen loved the idea. He had been ministering to people with troubled marriages for years. But, he said, this couldn’t be a “chick flick.” They needed to connect with men, as they had with the first two films. They would make the main character a man’s man—a fire chief. They went to the local firehouse and began learning about the lives of firefighters, who have one of the highest divorce rates in the country.
The brothers decided to call the movie Fireproof, and to link marriages to the buddy code in firefighting—never leave your partner behind, especially in a perilous situation.
No fund-raising this time. Provident Films fronted the movie $500,000. Production quality improved immensely. They were also able to add star power: Kirk Cameron, from ABC’s 1980s hit sitcom, Growing Pains. Cameron, who was now focusing his career on independent films with religious themes, took no salary. But the church agreed to make a sizable contribution to Camp Firefly, a camp for kids with terminal illnesses and their families that Cameron and his wife, Chelsea Noble, founded and have run for 20 years.
The film company still prayed on the set and still maintained the volunteer feel of a community project. But to market this movie, Michael Catt decided to host two screenings of Fireproof, each with a total of 4,000 pastors and their wives, at the annual Southern Baptist Convention in Indianapolis. “Those are 4,000 megaphones that go out and say, ‘I just saw this movie,’ ” he says. Provident’s PR machine then kicked in, and more than 250 similar screenings followed, with an average audience of 500. “It feels like there were a million people,” Catt says. And it paid off big-time.
From all over the country, requests for advance copies of the movie came cascading into the little church in Albany, Georgia. Everyone wanted to show the movie to their groups. Catt told them they had to wait until September.
And so it was that Fireproof came roaring into 839 theaters on September 26, 2008, ranking No. 4 in box-office sales nationwide, blowing past such multimillion-dollar releases as Miracle at St. Anna and Choke, holding on to earn $33 million at the box office, and finishing as the No. 1 indie feature of 2008.
Booksellers, meanwhile, started being flooded with requests for copies of The Love Dare, which was little more than a blank-paged prop in the movie. Demand was so strong that the Kendrick brothers had to sit down and write it in a hurry. Published by B&H Group of Nashville, the book came out October 12 and spent the next three months jumping back and forth between No. 1 and No. 2 on The New York Times best-seller paperback advice list.
Sherwood does not discuss its share of movie income. But executive pastor Jim McBride does point out that after theater owners, distributors, advertisers, promoters, and others take their cut, there is a lot less left for the church than one might expect. Even so, he says, there has been enough to help pay down debt for Sherwood’s Generations campaign, an outreach program aimed at youth. Included is a new $5 million sanctuary and a $4 million sports park open to the public. It features tennis courts, jogging trails, fishing ponds, horse stables, baseball diamonds, and a bright white 10-story-high cross.
The moviemaking ministers of Sherwood won’t say what their next film will be about or when it will come out. But they will continue creating films with volunteers—people of faith—and the Kendrick brothers are not giving up their day jobs at the church.
“Our goal is to touch people’s lives with a message of faith, hope, and love,” says Stephen Kendrick. “Christians are almost never portrayed accurately in movies. They are always these backwoods, narrow-minded, judgmental, hateful, weird people. And we’re thinking, Here we live with awesome, wonderful, loving, patriotic people.”
His movies say, “Here’s who we really are,” he says. “Here’s what we believe, here’s what happens in our lives. God works. He answers prayers.”
~Adapted from: http://www.purposedriven.com/article.html?c=132174&l=1~
There are nearly 7 billion people on this planet. Each one unique. Different. What are the chances of that? And why? Is it simply biology, physiology that determines this diversity? Or collections of thoughts, memories, experiences, that count out our own special place. Or is it something more than this? Perhaps there is a master plan, that drives the randomness of creation. Something unknowable that duels in the soul. And presents each one of us with the unique set of challenges, that will help us discover, who we really are.
-Adapted from: Heroes 3rd season Epi 25-
-Adapted from: Heroes 3rd season Epi 25-
Gift from God
Gift from God
By Tom Hallman Jr. 11/4/2009 6:08:15 PM
Mark Peterson set down chips and sodas on the tables as he prepared for what should have been a routine church get-together. He had no idea his life was about to change. At the moment, he was simply a man putting out snacks on a Thursday night.
Soon he heard voices, a murmur from the small group of men that had embedded itself deeply into his life. On this summer evening in 2008, Peterson was a homebuilder trying to hang on to his business in a crumbling market. Raising two young children with his wife in uncertain and turbulent economic times occasionally kept him up at night, but like most men, the powerfully built 36-year-old never let on he was worried. His men’s Bible study group at East Park Church in Vancouver, Washington, was beginning to teach him that his stoic cowboy image was foolish.
Once a month, the 15 men in the group gathered for two hours to grapple with tough and sensitive issues—family, relationships, jobs—and to share their doubts and concerns. They had helped Peterson see faith as more than a once-a-week obligation. Growing up in a remote section of Oregon, Peterson, his parents, and his five siblings would pile into their wood-paneled, nine-seat station wagon on Sundays for an 80-mile round-trip to church. But Peterson felt no personal connection with God, and eventually grew bored and then disillusioned with religion.
Though the concepts of God and Jesus Christ remained vague to Peterson, he knew that when he and his wife, Becky, had children, a church life might be good for the kids. A friend told the Petersons about East Park Church, not too far from their home, and they asked to meet the pastor, Dave Williams. The meeting took place in a noisy fast-food restaurant. Over hamburgers and French fries they discussed God’s love and the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus. Peterson wondered if that’s what he’d been missing in his church experience growing up. He wondered if that is what he desired. He and his wife joined the congregation and found their answer, soon committing their lives to Christ.
Having set out the snacks on this particular Thursday evening, Peterson spotted a newcomer—a pale man he’d never seen at the church before. The newcomer, Wayne Yancey, was also 36, and married with a couple of kids. That Yancey was even in church was a Christmas Eve miracle. As a boy, Yancey hadn’t attended church. Later, he joined a Catholic church only because his high school sweetheart wanted to be married there. They eventually dropped out because they just didn’t feel any personal connection to God.
Then on Christmas Eve 2006, Yancey’s wife, Gina, suggested they attend East Park, a church she’d heard about from a friend. Yancey felt more like spending the evening at home but gave in to his wife.
The moment he stepped into East Park, Yancey felt something warm and accepting about the place. Somehow, he felt like he was home, almost as if God had been waiting for him there. Commitment followed. Soon he and Gina were attending every week.
One day, Gina spotted an item in the church bulletin: Pastor Williams was promoting small groups for men. “You should go,” she told Wayne. After the Christmas Eve experience, Yancey had learned to trust his wife’s instincts. “I’ll give it a try,” he said.
The men’s meetings always ended with prayer requests, followed by a time of group prayer. Peterson had recently discovered how profoundly prayer would always connect him to the Holy Spirit. True faith, he was struggling to learn, was trusting in God to provide without knowing exactly how he would do that. During the previous few years, Peterson had felt God’s spirit poking and prodding him not to worry about the future. He considered the nudges little tests, almost as if God were trying to draw him closer and toward something bigger.
Prayer went around the circle and then the new guy, Yancey, screwed up his courage to speak. “I’d like you to pray for me,” he said. “I need a new kidney.”
Five years earlier, Yancey’s doctor had become worried during a routine physical exam. He sent him to a specialist, who found that Yancey’s kidneys were deteriorating rapidly. Without mechanical help from a dialysis machine, his kidneys would soon not be able to filter waste, regulate fluids, and help the bone marrow create blood cells. His body would slowly poison itself to death.
Over time, Yancey’s kidneys had failed to the point where he now needed 15 hours of dialysis a week to stay alive. He told the group that the process left him exhausted, depressed, and bitter.
When the meeting ended, Peterson walked out to the parking lot with Yancey. “Tell me about the situation with your kidneys,” Peterson said. Yancey explained that dialysis wasn’t working well anymore, and if he wanted to live, he needed a new kidney. “I need to find a donor,” he said.
Yancey had been on the organ donation waiting list for two years. He’d learned that he was one of more than 85,000 people in the United States waiting for a kidney, and that each year only about 16,000 of them get one. More than 4,500 would die in 2008 while waiting.
Doctors had told Yancey he was free to find a living donor on his own, but he’d had no luck in that search.
“Can just anyone donate?” Peterson asked. He listened carefully as Yancey explained that the living donor had to be a genetic match. And that no money could change hands, that it is illegal to sell body parts.
“So you’re telling me that you’re just waiting for a kidney?” Peterson said. “You’re just waiting for one that works?”
“That’s right,” Yancey said. The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Finally Yancey pulled out his wallet and fished out a business card. He handed it to Peterson. It read “Legacy Transplant Services, Portland Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital and Medical Center.”
“If you want to know more about transplants,” Yancey said, “these people can tell you everything.”
Peterson realized how little he knew about this guy Wayne, but felt his chest swell with emotion. He was overwhelmed by a question: Was he supposed to give his kidney to Wayne? There was doubt, but he couldn’t discount that little voice he was hearing.
“Lord,” he prayed, “is this something you really want me to do?”
By the time Peterson arrived home, the answer came to him, filling him with fear. Walking into his new, 3,000-square-foot house, he greeted Becky.
“How was your group?” she asked.
“There’s this guy there,” Peterson said. “I don’t know much about him, but he said he needs a kidney.” He paused, not sure where to start. “Becky,” he said, “I feel God’s telling me to give this guy one of my kidneys.”
“What are you talking about?!”
He chose his words carefully. “I want to try to be his donor,” he said. “I feel I’m supposed to do this.”
Becky finally broke the silence that followed. “This is a lot of news to digest,” she said.
“There’s a lot more I need to know,” her husband said as he tried to reassure her. “I would have to get tested to see if I’m a match.”
Becky relaxed. She felt the odds were slim he would be a match. Besides, with his background, no doctor would recommend him as a donor. Five years earlier Peterson had contracted chicken pox and ended up with viral pneumonia and a blood infection. He’d been rushed to the intensive care unit where he slipped into a coma. The doctor put him on a ventilator and told Becky that he might die.
His recovery had been long and rough. The illness, and the drugs to fight it, had caused his organs to shut down. Becky felt certain her husband’s own kidneys had been compromised by all that he had been through.
Later that night, Peterson said one final, silent, prayer: “God, if you don’t want this to happen, please stop it.” A part of him hoped that God would say, “Stop.”
On his way to work the next morning, the reality of what he was contemplating crashed in on Peterson. What about his own health? Was he risking complications in surgery? What would happen if his one remaining kidney was compromised? How would it affect his family? Should he really do this for a man he barely knew?
What Peterson did know was that Yancey was a brother in Christ and a member of his small group. Wasn’t that what a small group was for? To be there for each other? Peterson prayed for God’s guidance. Then he picked up his cell phone and punched in the number Yancey had given him. He reached the transplant coordinator and left a message. Days passed. No reply. He called again. Still nothing.
It was almost a relief. God had put him to the test, and Peterson had answered the call. Maybe that was the confirmation he needed.
But a week later, his cell phone rang. It was the transplant coordinator. She told him she’d like to start the screening process. She mailed him a packet of information, then set up two visits at Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital and Medical Center, where they took two separate blood tests to determine if he was a potential candidate.
During their ensuing small-group meetings, Peterson revealed nothing about what he was doing. But he did ask around the church to learn more about Yancey. He found they were the same age, born just four days apart.
At home, Becky was growing increasingly worried. One night, when the kids were asleep, she told him they needed to talk. “You have to tell me more about this,” she said, and there was an edge in her voice. “I want to meet these transplant people.” He said okay.
The meeting took place in an examination room. The Petersons were joined by the coordinator and a kidney specialist, a gentle doctor who understood Becky’s fears. He explained what the surgery entailed. There were risks, as in any surgery, but he assured her the operation was safe. And, he said, Peterson’s remaining kidney would actually grow to compensate for the increased work. Her husband would live a long and healthy life with one kidney.
Becky told the doctor of Peterson’s near-death experience in the ICU, and her worries about his damaged system being further strained by the removal of a kidney. The doctor said that her husband had to be in perfect health to be a donor. And he had to be a close match, or Yancey’s body would reject the kidney.
“We’re not yet even sure if your husband is a match,” the doctor said. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Can he back out?” she asked. “Can he say no?”
The coordinator spoke. “Listen to me,” she said. “He can back out anytime. Even when he’s on the operating table.”
That night, Mark Peterson prayed: “Lord, I’m going to take the next step and the next. I’m in your hands.”
Two days later, the coordinator called to say Peterson had made it through round one. Both his kidneys were healthy, with no signs of damage.
Becky Peterson took the news as a sign: If God had healed Mark’s body from his previous medical scare, then he could heal both Mark and Wayne together.
Five months had passed since the small group meeting where Peterson and Yancey had met. “Lord, I am ready.” Peterson prayed.
Not much later, Peterson was in his truck, moving between job sites, when his cell phone rang. The transplant coordinator was stunned. She told Peterson that he was not only a good match but a perfect match. She gave him some dates for the operation. After discussing it with Becky, Peterson chose a date three weeks later, in November.
“How should I tell Wayne?” Peterson asked Becky. He had not mentioned a word of it to Yancey. Becky told him to ask Wayne to lunch.
Peterson called Yancey and invited him to meet at a local restaurant. Aside from the conversation in the parking lot in June, the two men had never spent any time alone. Yancey assumed that Peterson was simply reaching out in friendship to a fellow small-group member.
After a casual talk, Peterson asked about Yancey’s health.
“I had a tube surgically implanted in me,” he said. “That’s great news.”
“Why?” Peterson asked.
“I’m not getting better,” Yancey said, “but this means I can do dialysis at home. I’ve had to go to Portland three times a week. I’ve missed work and time with my family.”
Peterson took a deep breath. “Say,” he asked, “what are you doing November third?”
Yancey shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Working, I guess. Why?”
Peterson was about to answer when the waitress appeared to fill their water glasses. He shifted in his seat, tapped his foot impatiently, and waited until she went to the far side of the restaurant.
“Would you be up to meeting me at the hospital?” Peterson asked. “It’s about your kidney.”
Yancey looked at him for a long time. “You want to be tested?” Yancey asked.
“No,” Peterson said. “I’ve already done all that.”
Yancey was speechless.
“Wayne, we’re a match,” Peterson said. “A perfect match,” he said. “I’m going to give you one of my kidneys.”
Yancey felt himself choking up. He struggled to find the words to express his surprise. And gratitude. This person sitting across from him—almost a stranger—was giving him the gift of life. “Mark,” he asked, “are you sure?”
Peterson nodded. “This isn’t a gift from me,” Peterson said. “This is a gift from God.”
Yancey’s wife, Gina, burst into tears when she heard the news, and called everyone in the church she could think of to tell them what had transpired. Word spread from member to member about the miracle taking place in their midst.
Just before 8 a.m. on the morning of the surgery, nurses began prepping Yancey. They inserted an IV line into his arm, and another that led directly to an artery near his heart. He heard the muted beeping of the machines monitoring his vital signs. During his life, Yancey had struggled with being in control and had difficulty letting God lead the way. But he felt at peace, that God was with him, and had been all along. He could tell that his wife was frightened by what was happening, the machines, the tubes, everything—but he was not. Yancey took her hand in his.
Peterson appeared in the doorway, the two men shook hands, and nurses led them away to finish preparing them for their surgeries. Once ready, the two men were wheeled into separate operating rooms across the hall from each other. A five-person donor team, including two surgeons who would remove Peterson’s kidney, coordinated via speakerphone with a five-person team that would transplant it in Yancey.
Yancey’s surgeons would open him up only when Peterson’s team was sure there would be no complications. The operation had to be timed to the second. Peterson’s kidney had to be cleaned and prepared, and then implanted quickly so surgeons could start blood flowing to the organ and get it working.
Surgeons made three small incisions on Peterson’s side, then slipped in tools and a small camera to guide them to the kidney. Next, they began cutting delicately. Finally, a surgeon made a larger incision that allowed the team to remove the organ. Once out, it was placed in a waiting basin, covered with ice, and hustled across the hallway. There Yancey’s surgeons moved swiftly, giving hope to a man whose life had been slowly ebbing the last several years.
Nerves were tense in the waiting room where the two wives and other members of East Park Church had gathered. When the doctor appeared, he grinned.
“It was beautiful,” he said. “I couldn’t have found a better match for Wayne.” Both wives and several East Park members wept at that news.
Four hours after the first incision, both men were recovering in different wings of the hospital.
“You’ll be amazed at how Wayne looks,” the transplant coordinator told the two wives. “He’s a new man.”
The next day, Peterson felt well enough to ask his wife to get a wheelchair and take him to Yancey. The Petersons were stunned when they entered the room. The Yancey they knew as pale and generally grim now had rosy cheeks and a smile on his face.
Becky pushed the wheelchair close to the bed. The two men gave each other a high five.
A Bible passage came to Yancey. He remembered it was somewhere in James but couldn’t remember it word for word. But the essence, he knew: Faith without deeds is a dead faith. This man sitting beside Yancey’s bed had heard God calling to him, and he had the faith to follow even though it went against all worldly logic. Both men had trusted God for the impossible and God had provided a miracle.
“Thank you,” Yancey said. “You’re my brother.”
“You’re welcome, my friend,” Peterson replied.
In the weeks that followed, the match turned out better than doctors could have expected. There were no complications for either man, nor would there be even a year later. Life returned to normal. But not really. How could it?
Two men—once strangers—had been guided to the same church and then led to a small men’s group. One man gave life to the other. They would be forever bonded. Blood brothers. Blood brothers in Christ.
On the Sunday before Christmas, Yancey sought out Peterson at church services. For weeks Yancey had been searching for an appropriate gift for this friend who had given him a second chance at life.
What do you give a man whose sacrifice has given you a new future? What do you give a man who allows you to come home healthy, ready to play with your kids and spend time with your wife?
He handed Peterson a wrapped package about the size of a hardback book.
“Merry Christmas, Mark.”
Peterson shifted, embarrassed. “Come on, Wayne. You didn’t have to do anything,” he said. “You know that.”
The two men shook hands. “Merry Christmas, Mark.”
“Merry Christmas, Wayne.”
Outside the church, Peterson carefully pulled the paper apart. Inside was a color photograph in a wooden frame. The frame had the word “friendship” printed on it, and surrounded a photo of the moment when the two men met in the ICU after their surgeries: Two men, clasping their hands, smiling.
Mark Peterson walked to his car, started the engine. He had to get home. Christmas was coming, and he’d been given the perfect gift. He would display the photograph on the living room mantel.
He knew that Christmas would have new meaning for both the Peterson and Yancey families. And indeed it did. Last year, the children of both men discovered what giving is really all about. It isn’t about video games and toys. It’s about reflecting how much God loves us by passing on that love to someone else. Sometimes it’s a gift that requires sacrifice. Sometimes it brings new life. But always it shares the truth of him for whom Christmas is named.
As Mark Peterson turned the car out of the church parking lot and merged with the traffic, words of prayer came to his lips: “Dear Lord, thank you. Thank you.”
~Adapted from: http://www.purposedriven.com/article.html?c=202013&l=1~
By Tom Hallman Jr. 11/4/2009 6:08:15 PM
Mark Peterson set down chips and sodas on the tables as he prepared for what should have been a routine church get-together. He had no idea his life was about to change. At the moment, he was simply a man putting out snacks on a Thursday night.
Soon he heard voices, a murmur from the small group of men that had embedded itself deeply into his life. On this summer evening in 2008, Peterson was a homebuilder trying to hang on to his business in a crumbling market. Raising two young children with his wife in uncertain and turbulent economic times occasionally kept him up at night, but like most men, the powerfully built 36-year-old never let on he was worried. His men’s Bible study group at East Park Church in Vancouver, Washington, was beginning to teach him that his stoic cowboy image was foolish.
Once a month, the 15 men in the group gathered for two hours to grapple with tough and sensitive issues—family, relationships, jobs—and to share their doubts and concerns. They had helped Peterson see faith as more than a once-a-week obligation. Growing up in a remote section of Oregon, Peterson, his parents, and his five siblings would pile into their wood-paneled, nine-seat station wagon on Sundays for an 80-mile round-trip to church. But Peterson felt no personal connection with God, and eventually grew bored and then disillusioned with religion.
Though the concepts of God and Jesus Christ remained vague to Peterson, he knew that when he and his wife, Becky, had children, a church life might be good for the kids. A friend told the Petersons about East Park Church, not too far from their home, and they asked to meet the pastor, Dave Williams. The meeting took place in a noisy fast-food restaurant. Over hamburgers and French fries they discussed God’s love and the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus. Peterson wondered if that’s what he’d been missing in his church experience growing up. He wondered if that is what he desired. He and his wife joined the congregation and found their answer, soon committing their lives to Christ.
Having set out the snacks on this particular Thursday evening, Peterson spotted a newcomer—a pale man he’d never seen at the church before. The newcomer, Wayne Yancey, was also 36, and married with a couple of kids. That Yancey was even in church was a Christmas Eve miracle. As a boy, Yancey hadn’t attended church. Later, he joined a Catholic church only because his high school sweetheart wanted to be married there. They eventually dropped out because they just didn’t feel any personal connection to God.
Then on Christmas Eve 2006, Yancey’s wife, Gina, suggested they attend East Park, a church she’d heard about from a friend. Yancey felt more like spending the evening at home but gave in to his wife.
The moment he stepped into East Park, Yancey felt something warm and accepting about the place. Somehow, he felt like he was home, almost as if God had been waiting for him there. Commitment followed. Soon he and Gina were attending every week.
One day, Gina spotted an item in the church bulletin: Pastor Williams was promoting small groups for men. “You should go,” she told Wayne. After the Christmas Eve experience, Yancey had learned to trust his wife’s instincts. “I’ll give it a try,” he said.
The men’s meetings always ended with prayer requests, followed by a time of group prayer. Peterson had recently discovered how profoundly prayer would always connect him to the Holy Spirit. True faith, he was struggling to learn, was trusting in God to provide without knowing exactly how he would do that. During the previous few years, Peterson had felt God’s spirit poking and prodding him not to worry about the future. He considered the nudges little tests, almost as if God were trying to draw him closer and toward something bigger.
Prayer went around the circle and then the new guy, Yancey, screwed up his courage to speak. “I’d like you to pray for me,” he said. “I need a new kidney.”
Five years earlier, Yancey’s doctor had become worried during a routine physical exam. He sent him to a specialist, who found that Yancey’s kidneys were deteriorating rapidly. Without mechanical help from a dialysis machine, his kidneys would soon not be able to filter waste, regulate fluids, and help the bone marrow create blood cells. His body would slowly poison itself to death.
Over time, Yancey’s kidneys had failed to the point where he now needed 15 hours of dialysis a week to stay alive. He told the group that the process left him exhausted, depressed, and bitter.
When the meeting ended, Peterson walked out to the parking lot with Yancey. “Tell me about the situation with your kidneys,” Peterson said. Yancey explained that dialysis wasn’t working well anymore, and if he wanted to live, he needed a new kidney. “I need to find a donor,” he said.
Yancey had been on the organ donation waiting list for two years. He’d learned that he was one of more than 85,000 people in the United States waiting for a kidney, and that each year only about 16,000 of them get one. More than 4,500 would die in 2008 while waiting.
Doctors had told Yancey he was free to find a living donor on his own, but he’d had no luck in that search.
“Can just anyone donate?” Peterson asked. He listened carefully as Yancey explained that the living donor had to be a genetic match. And that no money could change hands, that it is illegal to sell body parts.
“So you’re telling me that you’re just waiting for a kidney?” Peterson said. “You’re just waiting for one that works?”
“That’s right,” Yancey said. The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Finally Yancey pulled out his wallet and fished out a business card. He handed it to Peterson. It read “Legacy Transplant Services, Portland Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital and Medical Center.”
“If you want to know more about transplants,” Yancey said, “these people can tell you everything.”
Peterson realized how little he knew about this guy Wayne, but felt his chest swell with emotion. He was overwhelmed by a question: Was he supposed to give his kidney to Wayne? There was doubt, but he couldn’t discount that little voice he was hearing.
“Lord,” he prayed, “is this something you really want me to do?”
By the time Peterson arrived home, the answer came to him, filling him with fear. Walking into his new, 3,000-square-foot house, he greeted Becky.
“How was your group?” she asked.
“There’s this guy there,” Peterson said. “I don’t know much about him, but he said he needs a kidney.” He paused, not sure where to start. “Becky,” he said, “I feel God’s telling me to give this guy one of my kidneys.”
“What are you talking about?!”
He chose his words carefully. “I want to try to be his donor,” he said. “I feel I’m supposed to do this.”
Becky finally broke the silence that followed. “This is a lot of news to digest,” she said.
“There’s a lot more I need to know,” her husband said as he tried to reassure her. “I would have to get tested to see if I’m a match.”
Becky relaxed. She felt the odds were slim he would be a match. Besides, with his background, no doctor would recommend him as a donor. Five years earlier Peterson had contracted chicken pox and ended up with viral pneumonia and a blood infection. He’d been rushed to the intensive care unit where he slipped into a coma. The doctor put him on a ventilator and told Becky that he might die.
His recovery had been long and rough. The illness, and the drugs to fight it, had caused his organs to shut down. Becky felt certain her husband’s own kidneys had been compromised by all that he had been through.
Later that night, Peterson said one final, silent, prayer: “God, if you don’t want this to happen, please stop it.” A part of him hoped that God would say, “Stop.”
On his way to work the next morning, the reality of what he was contemplating crashed in on Peterson. What about his own health? Was he risking complications in surgery? What would happen if his one remaining kidney was compromised? How would it affect his family? Should he really do this for a man he barely knew?
What Peterson did know was that Yancey was a brother in Christ and a member of his small group. Wasn’t that what a small group was for? To be there for each other? Peterson prayed for God’s guidance. Then he picked up his cell phone and punched in the number Yancey had given him. He reached the transplant coordinator and left a message. Days passed. No reply. He called again. Still nothing.
It was almost a relief. God had put him to the test, and Peterson had answered the call. Maybe that was the confirmation he needed.
But a week later, his cell phone rang. It was the transplant coordinator. She told him she’d like to start the screening process. She mailed him a packet of information, then set up two visits at Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital and Medical Center, where they took two separate blood tests to determine if he was a potential candidate.
During their ensuing small-group meetings, Peterson revealed nothing about what he was doing. But he did ask around the church to learn more about Yancey. He found they were the same age, born just four days apart.
At home, Becky was growing increasingly worried. One night, when the kids were asleep, she told him they needed to talk. “You have to tell me more about this,” she said, and there was an edge in her voice. “I want to meet these transplant people.” He said okay.
The meeting took place in an examination room. The Petersons were joined by the coordinator and a kidney specialist, a gentle doctor who understood Becky’s fears. He explained what the surgery entailed. There were risks, as in any surgery, but he assured her the operation was safe. And, he said, Peterson’s remaining kidney would actually grow to compensate for the increased work. Her husband would live a long and healthy life with one kidney.
Becky told the doctor of Peterson’s near-death experience in the ICU, and her worries about his damaged system being further strained by the removal of a kidney. The doctor said that her husband had to be in perfect health to be a donor. And he had to be a close match, or Yancey’s body would reject the kidney.
“We’re not yet even sure if your husband is a match,” the doctor said. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Can he back out?” she asked. “Can he say no?”
The coordinator spoke. “Listen to me,” she said. “He can back out anytime. Even when he’s on the operating table.”
That night, Mark Peterson prayed: “Lord, I’m going to take the next step and the next. I’m in your hands.”
Two days later, the coordinator called to say Peterson had made it through round one. Both his kidneys were healthy, with no signs of damage.
Becky Peterson took the news as a sign: If God had healed Mark’s body from his previous medical scare, then he could heal both Mark and Wayne together.
Five months had passed since the small group meeting where Peterson and Yancey had met. “Lord, I am ready.” Peterson prayed.
Not much later, Peterson was in his truck, moving between job sites, when his cell phone rang. The transplant coordinator was stunned. She told Peterson that he was not only a good match but a perfect match. She gave him some dates for the operation. After discussing it with Becky, Peterson chose a date three weeks later, in November.
“How should I tell Wayne?” Peterson asked Becky. He had not mentioned a word of it to Yancey. Becky told him to ask Wayne to lunch.
Peterson called Yancey and invited him to meet at a local restaurant. Aside from the conversation in the parking lot in June, the two men had never spent any time alone. Yancey assumed that Peterson was simply reaching out in friendship to a fellow small-group member.
After a casual talk, Peterson asked about Yancey’s health.
“I had a tube surgically implanted in me,” he said. “That’s great news.”
“Why?” Peterson asked.
“I’m not getting better,” Yancey said, “but this means I can do dialysis at home. I’ve had to go to Portland three times a week. I’ve missed work and time with my family.”
Peterson took a deep breath. “Say,” he asked, “what are you doing November third?”
Yancey shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Working, I guess. Why?”
Peterson was about to answer when the waitress appeared to fill their water glasses. He shifted in his seat, tapped his foot impatiently, and waited until she went to the far side of the restaurant.
“Would you be up to meeting me at the hospital?” Peterson asked. “It’s about your kidney.”
Yancey looked at him for a long time. “You want to be tested?” Yancey asked.
“No,” Peterson said. “I’ve already done all that.”
Yancey was speechless.
“Wayne, we’re a match,” Peterson said. “A perfect match,” he said. “I’m going to give you one of my kidneys.”
Yancey felt himself choking up. He struggled to find the words to express his surprise. And gratitude. This person sitting across from him—almost a stranger—was giving him the gift of life. “Mark,” he asked, “are you sure?”
Peterson nodded. “This isn’t a gift from me,” Peterson said. “This is a gift from God.”
Yancey’s wife, Gina, burst into tears when she heard the news, and called everyone in the church she could think of to tell them what had transpired. Word spread from member to member about the miracle taking place in their midst.
Just before 8 a.m. on the morning of the surgery, nurses began prepping Yancey. They inserted an IV line into his arm, and another that led directly to an artery near his heart. He heard the muted beeping of the machines monitoring his vital signs. During his life, Yancey had struggled with being in control and had difficulty letting God lead the way. But he felt at peace, that God was with him, and had been all along. He could tell that his wife was frightened by what was happening, the machines, the tubes, everything—but he was not. Yancey took her hand in his.
Peterson appeared in the doorway, the two men shook hands, and nurses led them away to finish preparing them for their surgeries. Once ready, the two men were wheeled into separate operating rooms across the hall from each other. A five-person donor team, including two surgeons who would remove Peterson’s kidney, coordinated via speakerphone with a five-person team that would transplant it in Yancey.
Yancey’s surgeons would open him up only when Peterson’s team was sure there would be no complications. The operation had to be timed to the second. Peterson’s kidney had to be cleaned and prepared, and then implanted quickly so surgeons could start blood flowing to the organ and get it working.
Surgeons made three small incisions on Peterson’s side, then slipped in tools and a small camera to guide them to the kidney. Next, they began cutting delicately. Finally, a surgeon made a larger incision that allowed the team to remove the organ. Once out, it was placed in a waiting basin, covered with ice, and hustled across the hallway. There Yancey’s surgeons moved swiftly, giving hope to a man whose life had been slowly ebbing the last several years.
Nerves were tense in the waiting room where the two wives and other members of East Park Church had gathered. When the doctor appeared, he grinned.
“It was beautiful,” he said. “I couldn’t have found a better match for Wayne.” Both wives and several East Park members wept at that news.
Four hours after the first incision, both men were recovering in different wings of the hospital.
“You’ll be amazed at how Wayne looks,” the transplant coordinator told the two wives. “He’s a new man.”
The next day, Peterson felt well enough to ask his wife to get a wheelchair and take him to Yancey. The Petersons were stunned when they entered the room. The Yancey they knew as pale and generally grim now had rosy cheeks and a smile on his face.
Becky pushed the wheelchair close to the bed. The two men gave each other a high five.
A Bible passage came to Yancey. He remembered it was somewhere in James but couldn’t remember it word for word. But the essence, he knew: Faith without deeds is a dead faith. This man sitting beside Yancey’s bed had heard God calling to him, and he had the faith to follow even though it went against all worldly logic. Both men had trusted God for the impossible and God had provided a miracle.
“Thank you,” Yancey said. “You’re my brother.”
“You’re welcome, my friend,” Peterson replied.
In the weeks that followed, the match turned out better than doctors could have expected. There were no complications for either man, nor would there be even a year later. Life returned to normal. But not really. How could it?
Two men—once strangers—had been guided to the same church and then led to a small men’s group. One man gave life to the other. They would be forever bonded. Blood brothers. Blood brothers in Christ.
On the Sunday before Christmas, Yancey sought out Peterson at church services. For weeks Yancey had been searching for an appropriate gift for this friend who had given him a second chance at life.
What do you give a man whose sacrifice has given you a new future? What do you give a man who allows you to come home healthy, ready to play with your kids and spend time with your wife?
He handed Peterson a wrapped package about the size of a hardback book.
“Merry Christmas, Mark.”
Peterson shifted, embarrassed. “Come on, Wayne. You didn’t have to do anything,” he said. “You know that.”
The two men shook hands. “Merry Christmas, Mark.”
“Merry Christmas, Wayne.”
Outside the church, Peterson carefully pulled the paper apart. Inside was a color photograph in a wooden frame. The frame had the word “friendship” printed on it, and surrounded a photo of the moment when the two men met in the ICU after their surgeries: Two men, clasping their hands, smiling.
Mark Peterson walked to his car, started the engine. He had to get home. Christmas was coming, and he’d been given the perfect gift. He would display the photograph on the living room mantel.
He knew that Christmas would have new meaning for both the Peterson and Yancey families. And indeed it did. Last year, the children of both men discovered what giving is really all about. It isn’t about video games and toys. It’s about reflecting how much God loves us by passing on that love to someone else. Sometimes it’s a gift that requires sacrifice. Sometimes it brings new life. But always it shares the truth of him for whom Christmas is named.
As Mark Peterson turned the car out of the church parking lot and merged with the traffic, words of prayer came to his lips: “Dear Lord, thank you. Thank you.”
~Adapted from: http://www.purposedriven.com/article.html?c=202013&l=1~
不管认不认识，危不危险...任何事情对我而言...我只能做到这些，所以我必须去做...我不会要求任何回报。
天给你的才能，你就跟其他人分享...当礼物送出。不要求回报...当礼物送出的自然行为。
啊~~~对了，其实我...剩下的时间不多了。这个... 心脏移植的痕迹...也就是说，我比其他人的时间少。所以，只要我能做的...我一定会尽力去做！也不一定要做到很特出。
自己能做的事...那就是礼物...
你持有着天赋的才能...有经营者的才能。不只是这些。要把它分给其他人，送给需要你才能的人。
我相信持有礼物的人，能够将礼物传授给其他人，会很幸福。
~摘自漫画《天使心》Angel Heart Epi45end~
天给你的才能，你就跟其他人分享...当礼物送出。不要求回报...当礼物送出的自然行为。
啊~~~对了，其实我...剩下的时间不多了。这个... 心脏移植的痕迹...也就是说，我比其他人的时间少。所以，只要我能做的...我一定会尽力去做！也不一定要做到很特出。
自己能做的事...那就是礼物...
你持有着天赋的才能...有经营者的才能。不只是这些。要把它分给其他人，送给需要你才能的人。
我相信持有礼物的人，能够将礼物传授给其他人，会很幸福。
~摘自漫画《天使心》Angel Heart Epi45end~
「我來過，我很乖…」一個八歲小女孩 佘艷 的故事
by 感動 on Thursday, October 7, 2010 at 2:50pm
【她墓地有她一張笑吟吟的照片，碑文正面上方寫著："我來過，我很乖(1996.11.30.--2005.8.22)"】
一出生就不知親生父母，
In Memory of 佘豔
無奈的父親
有一個美麗的小女孩，她的名字叫做佘艷，她有一雙亮晶晶的大眼睛，她有一顆透亮的童心。她是一個孤兒，她在這個世界上只活了8年，她留在這個世界上最後的話是"我來過我很乖"。她希望死在秋天，纖瘦的身體就像一朵花自然開謝的過程。在遍地黃花堆積，落葉空中旋舞時候，她會看見橫空遠行雁兒們。她自願放棄治療，把全世界華人捐給她的54萬元救命錢分成了7份，把生命當成希望的蛋糕分別給了7個正徘徊在生死線的小朋友。
我自願放棄治療
＜她一出生就不知親生父母，她只有收養她的"爸爸"＞
1996年11月30日，那是當年農曆10月20日，因為"爸爸"佘仕友在永興鎮沈家衝一座小橋旁的草叢中發現被凍得奄奄一息的這個新生嬰兒時，發現她的胸口處插著一張小紙片，上面寫著："10月20日晚上12點。"
家住四川省雙流縣三星鎮雲崖村二組的佘仕友當時30歲，因為家裏窮一直找不到對象，如果要收養這個孩子，恐怕就更沒人願意嫁進家門了。看著懷中小貓一樣嚶嚶哭泣的嬰兒，佘仕友幾次放下又抱起，轉身走又回頭，這個小生命已經渾身冰冷哭聲微弱，再沒人管只怕隨時就沒命了！咬咬牙，他再次抱起嬰兒，嘆了一口氣："我吃什麼，你就跟我吃什麼吧。"
佘仕友給孩子取名叫佘艷，因為她是秋天豐收季節出生的孩子。單身漢當起了爸爸，沒有母乳，也買不起奶粉，就只好餵米湯，所以佘艷從小體弱多病，但是非常乖巧懂事。春去春又回，如同苦藤上的一朵小花，佘艷一天天長大了，出奇得聰明乖巧，鄉鄰都說撿來的娃娃智商高，都喜歡她。儘管從小就多病，在爸爸的擔驚受怕中，佘艷慢慢地長大了。 
認真寫東西的佘艷
所有的人都期待奇跡發生，所有的人都在盼望佘艷重生的那一刻。很多市民來到醫院看望佘艷，網上很多網民都在問候這位可憐的孩子，她的生命讓陌生的世界撒滿了光明。
開心的看著網友們所送的玩具
那段時間，病房裏堆滿了鮮花和水果，到處瀰漫著醉人的芬芳。兩個月化療，佘艷陸續闖過了9次"鬼門關"，感染性休克、敗血症、溶血、消化道大出血……每次都逢凶化吉。由省內甚至國內權威兒童血液病專家共同會診確定的化療方案，效果很好，"白血病"本身已經被完全控制了！所有人都在企盼著佘艷康復的好消息。
但是，化療藥物使用後可能引起的併發症非常可怕。而與別的很多白血病孩子比較，佘艷的體質差很多。經此手術後她的體質更差了。
8月20日清晨，她問傅艷："阿姨，你告訴我，他們為什麼要給我捐款？"
"因為，他們都是善良人。"
"阿姨，我也做善良人。"
"你自然是善良人。善良的人要相互幫助，就會變得更加善良。"
佘艷從枕頭下摸出一個數學作業本，遞給傅艷："阿姨，這是我的遺書……"傅艷大驚，連忙打開一看，果然是小佘艷安排的後事。這是一個年僅8歲的垂危孩子，趴在病床上用鉛筆寫了三頁紙的《遺書》。由於孩子太小，有些字還不會寫，且有個別錯別字。看得出整篇文章並不是一氣呵成寫完的，分成了六段。開頭是"傅艷阿姨"，結尾是"傅艷阿姨再見"，整篇文章"傅艷阿姨"或"傅阿姨" 共出現7次，還有9次簡稱記者為"阿姨"。
這16個稱呼後面，全部是關於她離世後的"拜託"，以及她想通過記者向全社會關心她的人表達"感謝"與"再見"。
佘艷遺書手稿
"阿姨再見，我們在夢中見。傅艷阿姨，我爸爸房子要垮了。爸爸不要生氣，不要跳樓。傅阿姨你要看好我爸爸。阿姨，醫我的錢給我們學校一點點，多謝阿姨給紅十字會會長說。我死後，把剩下的錢給那些和我一樣病的人，讓他們的病好起來……"
佘艷遺書手稿
這封遺書，讓傅艷看得淚流滿面，泣不成聲。
我來過，我很乖
8月22日，由於消化道出血，幾乎一個月不能吃東西而靠輸液支撐的佘艷，第一次"偷吃東西"，她掰了一塊方便麵塞進嘴裏。很快消化道出血加重，醫生護士緊急給她輸血、輸液……看著佘艷腹痛難忍、痛苦不堪的樣子，醫生護士都哭了，大家都願意幫她分擔痛苦，可是，想盡各種辦法還是無濟於事。
8歲的小佘艷終於遠離病魔的摧殘，安詳離去。所有人都無法接受這個事實：那個美麗如詩、純凈如水的"小仙女"真的去了另一個世界嗎？記者傅艷撫摸著佘艷漸漸冰冷的小臉，泣不成聲，再也不能叫他阿姨了，再也不能笑出聲來了……
四川線上，網易等網站沉浸在淚海裏，互聯網被淚水打濕透了，"心痛到不能呼吸"。每個網站的消息帖子下面都有上萬條跟帖，花圈如山，悼詞似海，一位中年男士喃喃低語："孩子，你本來就是天上的小天使，張開小翅膀，乖乖地飛吧……" 8月26日，她的葬禮在小雨中舉行，成都市東郊殯儀館火化大廳內外站滿了熱淚盈眶的市民。他們都是8歲女孩佘艷素不相識的"爸爸媽媽"。為了讓這個一齣生就被遺棄、患白血病後自願放棄自己的女孩，最後離去時不至於太孤單，來自四面八方的"爸爸媽媽們"默默地冒雨前來送行。
她墓地有她一張笑吟吟的照片，碑文正面上方寫著："我來過，我很乖(1996.11.30.--2005.8.22)"
後面刻著關於佘艷身世的簡單介紹，最後兩句是："在她有生之年，感受到了人世的溫暖。小姑娘請安息，天堂有你更美麗。"
遵照小佘艷的遺願，把剩下的54萬元醫療費當成生命的饋贈留給其他患白血病的孩子。這7個孩子分別是楊心琳、徐黎、黃志強、劉靈璐、張雨婕、高健、王傑。這七個可憐的孩子，年齡最大的19歲，最小的只有2歲，都是家境非常困難，掙紮在死亡線上的貧困子弟。
9月24日，第一個接受佘艷生命饋贈的女孩徐黎在華西醫大成功進行手術後，她蒼白的臉上掛上了一絲微笑："我接受了你生命贈與，謝謝佘艷妹妹，你一定在天堂看著我們。請你放心，以後我們的墓碑上照樣刻著：我來過，我很乖……"
網友們的贈言
這年僅八歳的孩子,有著連大人都沒有的勇氣與慈悲,就像個天使般,落入人間,散播慈悅的愛後,功成身退,願你的勇氣能勇敢世上缺乏勇氣的人,願你的慈悲能感化世上缺乏慈愛的人,你來過,你很乖,可愛的小天使.
by 感動 on Thursday, October 7, 2010 at 2:50pm
【她墓地有她一張笑吟吟的照片，碑文正面上方寫著："我來過，我很乖(1996.11.30.--2005.8.22)"】
一出生就不知親生父母，
她只有收養她的"爸爸"
她在這個世界上只活了8年....
她在這個世界上只活了8年....
In Memory of 佘豔
無奈的父親
有一個美麗的小女孩，她的名字叫做佘艷，她有一雙亮晶晶的大眼睛，她有一顆透亮的童心。她是一個孤兒，她在這個世界上只活了8年，她留在這個世界上最後的話是"我來過我很乖"。她希望死在秋天，纖瘦的身體就像一朵花自然開謝的過程。在遍地黃花堆積，落葉空中旋舞時候，她會看見橫空遠行雁兒們。她自願放棄治療，把全世界華人捐給她的54萬元救命錢分成了7份，把生命當成希望的蛋糕分別給了7個正徘徊在生死線的小朋友。
我自願放棄治療
＜她一出生就不知親生父母，她只有收養她的"爸爸"＞
1996年11月30日，那是當年農曆10月20日，因為"爸爸"佘仕友在永興鎮沈家衝一座小橋旁的草叢中發現被凍得奄奄一息的這個新生嬰兒時，發現她的胸口處插著一張小紙片，上面寫著："10月20日晚上12點。"
家住四川省雙流縣三星鎮雲崖村二組的佘仕友當時30歲，因為家裏窮一直找不到對象，如果要收養這個孩子，恐怕就更沒人願意嫁進家門了。看著懷中小貓一樣嚶嚶哭泣的嬰兒，佘仕友幾次放下又抱起，轉身走又回頭，這個小生命已經渾身冰冷哭聲微弱，再沒人管只怕隨時就沒命了！咬咬牙，他再次抱起嬰兒，嘆了一口氣："我吃什麼，你就跟我吃什麼吧。"
佘仕友給孩子取名叫佘艷，因為她是秋天豐收季節出生的孩子。單身漢當起了爸爸，沒有母乳，也買不起奶粉，就只好餵米湯，所以佘艷從小體弱多病，但是非常乖巧懂事。春去春又回，如同苦藤上的一朵小花，佘艷一天天長大了，出奇得聰明乖巧，鄉鄰都說撿來的娃娃智商高，都喜歡她。儘管從小就多病，在爸爸的擔驚受怕中，佘艷慢慢地長大了。
幫忙家務的佘艷
命苦的孩子的確不一般，從5歲起，她就懂得幫爸爸分擔家務，洗衣、煮飯、割草她樣樣做得好，她知道自己跟別家的孩子不一樣，別家的孩子有爸爸有媽媽，自己的家裏只有她和爸爸，這個家得靠她和爸爸一起來支撐，她要很乖很乖，不讓爸爸多一點點憂心生一點點氣。
上小學了，佘艷知道自己要好學上進要考第一名，不識字的爸爸在村裏也會臉上有光，她從沒讓爸爸失望過。她給爸爸唱歌，把學校裏發生的趣事一樣一樣講給爸爸聽，把獲得的每一朵小紅花仔仔細細貼在牆上，偶爾還會調皮地出道題目考倒爸爸……。每當看到爸爸臉上的笑容，她會暗自滿足："雖然不能像別的孩子一樣也有媽媽，但是能跟爸爸這樣快樂地生活下去，也很幸福了。"
2005年5月開始，她經常流鼻血。有一天早晨，佘艷正欲洗臉，突然發現一盆清水變得紅紅的，一看，是鼻子裏的血正向下滴，不管採用什麼措施，都止不住。實在沒辦法，佘仕友帶她去鄉衛生院打針，可小小的針眼也出血不止，她的腿上還出現大量"紅點點"，醫生說，"趕快到大醫院去看！"來到成都大醫院，可正值會診高峰，她排不上輪次。獨自坐在長椅上按住鼻子，鼻血像兩條線直往下掉，染 紅了地板。他覺得不好意思，只好端起一個便盆接血，不到10分鐘，盆子裏的血就盛了一半。
醫生見狀，連忙帶孩子去檢查。檢查後，醫生馬上給他開了病危通知單。他得了"急性白血病"。
這種病的醫療費是非常昂貴的，費用一般需要30萬元！佘仕友懵了。看著病床上的女兒，他沒法想太多，他只有一個念頭：救女兒！借遍了親戚朋友，東拼西湊的錢不過杯水車薪，距離30萬實在太遠，他決定賣掉家裏唯一還能換錢的土坯房。可是因為房子太過破舊，一時找不到買主。
看著父親那雙憂鬱的眼睛和日漸消瘦的臉，佘艷總有一種酸楚的感覺。一次，佘艷拉著爸爸的手，話還未出口眼淚卻冒了出來："爸爸，我想死…"
父親一雙驚愕的眼睛看著她："你才8歲，為啥要死？"
"我是撿來的娃娃，大家都說我命賤，害不起這病，讓我出院吧……"
6月18日，8歲的佘艷代替不識字的爸爸，在自己的病歷本上一筆一畫地簽字："自願放棄對佘艷的治療。"
8歲女孩乖巧安排後事
當天回家後，從小到大沒有跟爸爸提過任何要求的佘艷，這時向爸爸提出兩個要求：她想穿一件新衣服，再照一張相片，她對爸爸解釋說："以後我不在了，如果你想我了，就可以看看照片上的我。"
第二天，爸爸叫上姑姑陪著佘艷來到鎮上，花30元給佘艷買了兩套新衣服，佘艷選了一套粉紅色的短袖短褲，姑姑給她選了一套白色紅點的裙子，她試穿上身就捨不得脫下來。三人來到照相館，佘艷穿著粉紅色的新衣服，雙手比著V字手勢，努力地微笑，最後還是忍不住掉下淚來。
她已經不能上學了，她長時間背著書包站在村前的小路上....，目光總是濕漉漉的。
如果不是《成都晚報》的一個叫傅艷的記者，佘艷將像一片悄然滑落的樹葉一樣，靜靜地從風中飄下來。
記者阿姨從醫院方面得知了情況，寫了一篇報道，詳盡敘說佘艷的故事。旋即，《8歲女孩乖巧安排後事》的故事在蓉城傳開了，成都被感動了，互聯網也被感動了，無數市民為這位可憐的女孩心痛不已，從成都到全國乃至全世界，現實世界與互聯網空間聯動，所有愛心人士開始為這個弱小的生命捐款，短短10天時間，來自全球華人捐助的善款就已經超過56萬元，手術費用足夠了，小佘艷的生命之火被大家的愛心再次點燃！宣佈募捐活動結束之後，仍然源源不斷收到全球各地的捐款。所有的錢都到位了，醫生也儘自己最大努力，一個個的治療難關也如願地闖過！大家沉著地微笑著等待成功的 那一天！有網友寫道："佘艷，我親愛的孩子！我希望你能健康的離開醫院；我祈禱你能順利的回到學校；我盼望你能平安的長大成人；我幻想我能高興的陪你出嫁。佘艷，我親愛的孩子……"
用功的佘艷
上小學了，佘艷知道自己要好學上進要考第一名，不識字的爸爸在村裏也會臉上有光，她從沒讓爸爸失望過。她給爸爸唱歌，把學校裏發生的趣事一樣一樣講給爸爸聽，把獲得的每一朵小紅花仔仔細細貼在牆上，偶爾還會調皮地出道題目考倒爸爸……。每當看到爸爸臉上的笑容，她會暗自滿足："雖然不能像別的孩子一樣也有媽媽，但是能跟爸爸這樣快樂地生活下去，也很幸福了。"
2005年5月開始，她經常流鼻血。有一天早晨，佘艷正欲洗臉，突然發現一盆清水變得紅紅的，一看，是鼻子裏的血正向下滴，不管採用什麼措施，都止不住。實在沒辦法，佘仕友帶她去鄉衛生院打針，可小小的針眼也出血不止，她的腿上還出現大量"紅點點"，醫生說，"趕快到大醫院去看！"來到成都大醫院，可正值會診高峰，她排不上輪次。獨自坐在長椅上按住鼻子，鼻血像兩條線直往下掉，染 紅了地板。他覺得不好意思，只好端起一個便盆接血，不到10分鐘，盆子裏的血就盛了一半。
醫生見狀，連忙帶孩子去檢查。檢查後，醫生馬上給他開了病危通知單。他得了"急性白血病"。
這種病的醫療費是非常昂貴的，費用一般需要30萬元！佘仕友懵了。看著病床上的女兒，他沒法想太多，他只有一個念頭：救女兒！借遍了親戚朋友，東拼西湊的錢不過杯水車薪，距離30萬實在太遠，他決定賣掉家裏唯一還能換錢的土坯房。可是因為房子太過破舊，一時找不到買主。
看著父親那雙憂鬱的眼睛和日漸消瘦的臉，佘艷總有一種酸楚的感覺。一次，佘艷拉著爸爸的手，話還未出口眼淚卻冒了出來："爸爸，我想死…"
父親一雙驚愕的眼睛看著她："你才8歲，為啥要死？"
"我是撿來的娃娃，大家都說我命賤，害不起這病，讓我出院吧……"
6月18日，8歲的佘艷代替不識字的爸爸，在自己的病歷本上一筆一畫地簽字："自願放棄對佘艷的治療。"
8歲女孩乖巧安排後事
當天回家後，從小到大沒有跟爸爸提過任何要求的佘艷，這時向爸爸提出兩個要求：她想穿一件新衣服，再照一張相片，她對爸爸解釋說："以後我不在了，如果你想我了，就可以看看照片上的我。"
第二天，爸爸叫上姑姑陪著佘艷來到鎮上，花30元給佘艷買了兩套新衣服，佘艷選了一套粉紅色的短袖短褲，姑姑給她選了一套白色紅點的裙子，她試穿上身就捨不得脫下來。三人來到照相館，佘艷穿著粉紅色的新衣服，雙手比著V字手勢，努力地微笑，最後還是忍不住掉下淚來。
她已經不能上學了，她長時間背著書包站在村前的小路上....，目光總是濕漉漉的。
如果不是《成都晚報》的一個叫傅艷的記者，佘艷將像一片悄然滑落的樹葉一樣，靜靜地從風中飄下來。
記者阿姨從醫院方面得知了情況，寫了一篇報道，詳盡敘說佘艷的故事。旋即，《8歲女孩乖巧安排後事》的故事在蓉城傳開了，成都被感動了，互聯網也被感動了，無數市民為這位可憐的女孩心痛不已，從成都到全國乃至全世界，現實世界與互聯網空間聯動，所有愛心人士開始為這個弱小的生命捐款，短短10天時間，來自全球華人捐助的善款就已經超過56萬元，手術費用足夠了，小佘艷的生命之火被大家的愛心再次點燃！宣佈募捐活動結束之後，仍然源源不斷收到全球各地的捐款。所有的錢都到位了，醫生也儘自己最大努力，一個個的治療難關也如願地闖過！大家沉著地微笑著等待成功的 那一天！有網友寫道："佘艷，我親愛的孩子！我希望你能健康的離開醫院；我祈禱你能順利的回到學校；我盼望你能平安的長大成人；我幻想我能高興的陪你出嫁。佘艷，我親愛的孩子……"
用功的佘艷
6月21日，放棄治療回家等待死神的佘艷被重新接到成都，住進了市兒童醫院。錢有了，卑微的生命有了延續下去的希望和理由。
佘艷接受了難以忍受的化療。玻璃門內，佘艷躺在病床上輸液，床頭旁邊放著一把椅子，椅子上放一個塑膠盆，她不時要側身嘔吐。小女孩的堅強令所有人吃驚。 她的主治醫生徐鳴介紹，化療階段胃腸道反應強烈，佘艷剛開始時經常一吐就是大半盆，可她"連吭都沒吭一聲"。剛入院時做骨髓穿刺檢查，針頭從胸骨刺入，她 "沒哭，沒叫，眼淚都沒流，動都不動一下"。
佘艷從出生到死亡，沒有得到一絲母愛的關照。當徐鳴醫生提出："佘艷，給我當女兒吧！"佘艷眼睛一閃，淚珠兒一下就涌了出來。第二天，當徐鳴醫生來到她床前的時候，佘艷竟羞羞答答地叫了一聲："徐媽媽。"徐鳴開始一愣，繼而笑逐顏開，甜甜地回了一聲："女兒乖。"
佘艷接受了難以忍受的化療。玻璃門內，佘艷躺在病床上輸液，床頭旁邊放著一把椅子，椅子上放一個塑膠盆，她不時要側身嘔吐。小女孩的堅強令所有人吃驚。 她的主治醫生徐鳴介紹，化療階段胃腸道反應強烈，佘艷剛開始時經常一吐就是大半盆，可她"連吭都沒吭一聲"。剛入院時做骨髓穿刺檢查，針頭從胸骨刺入，她 "沒哭，沒叫，眼淚都沒流，動都不動一下"。
佘艷從出生到死亡，沒有得到一絲母愛的關照。當徐鳴醫生提出："佘艷，給我當女兒吧！"佘艷眼睛一閃，淚珠兒一下就涌了出來。第二天，當徐鳴醫生來到她床前的時候，佘艷竟羞羞答答地叫了一聲："徐媽媽。"徐鳴開始一愣，繼而笑逐顏開，甜甜地回了一聲："女兒乖。"
認真寫東西的佘艷
所有的人都期待奇跡發生，所有的人都在盼望佘艷重生的那一刻。很多市民來到醫院看望佘艷，網上很多網民都在問候這位可憐的孩子，她的生命讓陌生的世界撒滿了光明。
開心的看著網友們所送的玩具
那段時間，病房裏堆滿了鮮花和水果，到處瀰漫著醉人的芬芳。兩個月化療，佘艷陸續闖過了9次"鬼門關"，感染性休克、敗血症、溶血、消化道大出血……每次都逢凶化吉。由省內甚至國內權威兒童血液病專家共同會診確定的化療方案，效果很好，"白血病"本身已經被完全控制了！所有人都在企盼著佘艷康復的好消息。
但是，化療藥物使用後可能引起的併發症非常可怕。而與別的很多白血病孩子比較，佘艷的體質差很多。經此手術後她的體質更差了。
8月20日清晨，她問傅艷："阿姨，你告訴我，他們為什麼要給我捐款？"
"因為，他們都是善良人。"
"阿姨，我也做善良人。"
"你自然是善良人。善良的人要相互幫助，就會變得更加善良。"
佘艷從枕頭下摸出一個數學作業本，遞給傅艷："阿姨，這是我的遺書……"傅艷大驚，連忙打開一看，果然是小佘艷安排的後事。這是一個年僅8歲的垂危孩子，趴在病床上用鉛筆寫了三頁紙的《遺書》。由於孩子太小，有些字還不會寫，且有個別錯別字。看得出整篇文章並不是一氣呵成寫完的，分成了六段。開頭是"傅艷阿姨"，結尾是"傅艷阿姨再見"，整篇文章"傅艷阿姨"或"傅阿姨" 共出現7次，還有9次簡稱記者為"阿姨"。
這16個稱呼後面，全部是關於她離世後的"拜託"，以及她想通過記者向全社會關心她的人表達"感謝"與"再見"。
佘艷遺書手稿
"阿姨再見，我們在夢中見。傅艷阿姨，我爸爸房子要垮了。爸爸不要生氣，不要跳樓。傅阿姨你要看好我爸爸。阿姨，醫我的錢給我們學校一點點，多謝阿姨給紅十字會會長說。我死後，把剩下的錢給那些和我一樣病的人，讓他們的病好起來……"
佘艷遺書手稿
這封遺書，讓傅艷看得淚流滿面，泣不成聲。
我來過，我很乖
8月22日，由於消化道出血，幾乎一個月不能吃東西而靠輸液支撐的佘艷，第一次"偷吃東西"，她掰了一塊方便麵塞進嘴裏。很快消化道出血加重，醫生護士緊急給她輸血、輸液……看著佘艷腹痛難忍、痛苦不堪的樣子，醫生護士都哭了，大家都願意幫她分擔痛苦，可是，想盡各種辦法還是無濟於事。
8歲的小佘艷終於遠離病魔的摧殘，安詳離去。所有人都無法接受這個事實：那個美麗如詩、純凈如水的"小仙女"真的去了另一個世界嗎？記者傅艷撫摸著佘艷漸漸冰冷的小臉，泣不成聲，再也不能叫他阿姨了，再也不能笑出聲來了……
四川線上，網易等網站沉浸在淚海裏，互聯網被淚水打濕透了，"心痛到不能呼吸"。每個網站的消息帖子下面都有上萬條跟帖，花圈如山，悼詞似海，一位中年男士喃喃低語："孩子，你本來就是天上的小天使，張開小翅膀，乖乖地飛吧……" 8月26日，她的葬禮在小雨中舉行，成都市東郊殯儀館火化大廳內外站滿了熱淚盈眶的市民。他們都是8歲女孩佘艷素不相識的"爸爸媽媽"。為了讓這個一齣生就被遺棄、患白血病後自願放棄自己的女孩，最後離去時不至於太孤單，來自四面八方的"爸爸媽媽們"默默地冒雨前來送行。
她墓地有她一張笑吟吟的照片，碑文正面上方寫著："我來過，我很乖(1996.11.30.--2005.8.22)"
後面刻著關於佘艷身世的簡單介紹，最後兩句是："在她有生之年，感受到了人世的溫暖。小姑娘請安息，天堂有你更美麗。"
遵照小佘艷的遺願，把剩下的54萬元醫療費當成生命的饋贈留給其他患白血病的孩子。這7個孩子分別是楊心琳、徐黎、黃志強、劉靈璐、張雨婕、高健、王傑。這七個可憐的孩子，年齡最大的19歲，最小的只有2歲，都是家境非常困難，掙紮在死亡線上的貧困子弟。
9月24日，第一個接受佘艷生命饋贈的女孩徐黎在華西醫大成功進行手術後，她蒼白的臉上掛上了一絲微笑："我接受了你生命贈與，謝謝佘艷妹妹，你一定在天堂看著我們。請你放心，以後我們的墓碑上照樣刻著：我來過，我很乖……"
網友們的贈言
這年僅八歳的孩子,有著連大人都沒有的勇氣與慈悲,就像個天使般,落入人間,散播慈悅的愛後,功成身退,願你的勇氣能勇敢世上缺乏勇氣的人,願你的慈悲能感化世上缺乏慈愛的人,你來過,你很乖,可愛的小天使.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
