One day while I was "visiting" homepages on the web I found "Flutters, The
One-Winged Angel". It touched me deeply with its simplicity and the message it
imparted. We all have handicaps to overcome...by building strengths in other areas
we can learn to compensate and overcome these handicaps.
This children's story is so touching that I wanted to share it with you. The
author has given me permission to share the excerpts on his page with you. I hope
you will visit Larry's page and let him know how much you were touched by that
simple, children's (and adult) story. The message he is giving to children (and
adults like me) can show us that by building new strengths we can overcome
handicaps.
God Bless you Larry for letting me share "Flutters" with my friends.
When Flutters (a guardian angel) journey's into the matter zone accidentally bending one of his wings upon entering; his wing is is sent back for repair by bearer Angels. Flutters discovers with the higher frequency vibrations of using one wing that he has a special gift.
like no other guardian angel. He has
direct but brief entry into and out of
the human heart or mind to cause
enough pause either to for a new
way of thinking or to cause a human
to sense danger in time to react
quickly. I Am Love noticing that
Flutters injury has turned into a
positive thing leaves him as a
one of a kind angel to help the
guardian angels of all man kind
during this early primitive period in
an area of earth called Eden Driven.
This story and all images are copyrited and used by permission.
Once upon a time there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his
writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.
One day he was walking along the shore. As he looked down the beach, he saw
a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself to think of someone
who would dance to the day. So he began to walk faster to catch up. As he
got closer, he saw that it was a young man and the young man wasn't dancing,
but instead he was reaching down to the shore, picking up
something and very gently throwing it into the ocean. As he got closer he
called out, "Good morning! What are you doing?"
The young man paused, looked up and replied, "Throwing starfish in the ocean."
"I guess I should have asked, why are you throwing starfish in the ocean?"
"The sun is up and the tide is going out. And if I don't throw them in,
they'll die."
"But, young man, don't you realize that there are miles and miles of beach
and starfish all along it. You can't possibly make a difference!"
The young man listed politely. Then bent down, picked another starfish and
threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves and said- "It made a
difference for that one."
A minister passing through his church in the middle of the day, decided to
pause by the altar to see who had come to pray. Just then the back door opened and a man came down the aisle. The minister frowned as he saw the
man hadn't shaved in days, his shirt was kinda' shabby, and his coat was
worn and frayed. The man knelt and bowed his head, then he rose and walked
away. In the following days, the minister returned at noon to find this chap
stopping for a moment, lunch pail in his lap, and then rise and walk away.
As the minister's suspicions grew, with burglary a main fear, he stopped the
man and asked him, "Whatcha doin' here?"
The old man worked down the road. His lunch was only a half hour. Lunch was
his prayer time, for finding strength and power. "I stay only moments, see,
cause the factory is so far away. As I kneel here before the Lord, this is
kinda' what I say, I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU LORD HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK WAY MY SIN. I DON'T
KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY DAY. SO JESUS, THIS IS
JIM CHECKIN' IN." The minister felt foolish, told Jim that was fine, and
told him he was welcome to come and pray any time.
"Time to go." Jim smiled, said, "Thanks" and hurried to the door. The
minister knelt at the altar, something he'd never done before. His cold
heart melted, warmed with love, and met with Jesus there. As the tears
flowed, in his heart he repeated old Jim's prayer. "I JUST CAME AGAIN TO
TELL YOU
LORD HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP AND YOU TOOK
AWAY MY SIN. I DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY, BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY DAY.
SO JESUS, THIS IS ME CHECKIN' IN."
Past noon one day, the minister noticed old Jim had not come in. He began
to worry, as more days passed without Jim. At the factory, he asked about
Jim, learning he was in the hospital. At the hospital, he found the staff
worried, but Jim had given them a thrill. The week that Jim was with them,
brought changes in the ward. Jim's smiles, a joy contagious, changed
people, his reward. The head nurse couldn't understand why Jim was always
glad. No visitors, flowers, calls, or cards, but Jim was never sad. The
minister stayed by Jim's bed, he voiced the nurse's concern. No friends came
to show they cared. He'd had no where to turn.
Looking surprised, Jim spoke up with a winsome smile, "The nurse is wrong,
she couldn't know, that all the while, every day at noon He's here, a dear
friend of mine. He sits right down, takes my hand, leans over and says to
me, 'I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU JIM HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN, SINCE WE FOUND
EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN. I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR YOU
PRAY, I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERY DAY. SO JIM, THIS IS JESUS CHECKIN' IN."
For with God, nothing shall be impossible - Luke 1:37
A Lesson in Love
It was six a.m. on a bright Sunday morning in April. A solemn, blond
six-year old boy was admitted to our small pediatric unit for a procedure
not very common to young children: phlebotomy - that is, blood donation.
Todd and his four-year old sister shared a rare, genetic blood condition and
now Jenny was to undergo major cardiac surgery to save her life. The
operating room crew was briefed on the procedure, a heart-lung machine
was procured, in-service on every aspect of Jenny's nursing care was
presented, and a week-long lecture series by the eminent physician and his
assistants was offered to everyone connected in the pediatric unit.
One of the complications that the doctor was anticipating was hemorrhage,
and since Jenny's blood was almost impossible to match from another donor,the
parents were asked to bring Todd in for phlebotomy the day before the
scheduled operation. So it was that Todd, Jenny, and their parents were
greeted by a hushed atmosphere of suppressed excitement.
At six years, Todd was already a veteran of multiple surgeries to correct
his clubfeet. He had been a patient of ours many times, and his shy,
serious face and gentle manner had won our hearts long ago. Jenny was a
skinny out-going redhead. A tendency to tire easily was the only outward
evidence of her life-threatening heart condition. Once Todd had been
admitted and his height, weight and vital signs taken, he took his sister by
the hand and led her around the room, showing her the decals and pictures
that had entranced him as a four-year old. The way he held her hand and
looked at her revealed many unspoken things about the special relationship that
existed between them.
Geri, the head of the pediatric department moved quickly about the room
setting up the transfusion equipment, and Jenny's mother and father found
a chair and sat down. Just then the doctor breezed in, briefly patted Todd
and Jenny on the head, then turned his attention to the parents. With one
hesitant question from Jenny's father he launched into a dissertation on
certain technical aspects of his procedure. It was heavily laden with high-
sounding medical terms, and Jenny's father took notes furiously. About this
time I was called in to serve in the capacity of assistant, equipment holder and
procurer of needed supplies.
I loved watching Geri's technique with children. Todd was now lying face up
on the bed and Geri was talking quietly as she swabbed his arm prior to
inserting the needle. Her voice was friendly and easygoing. "O.K. Todd,
just a little stick and that's all you will feel." Todd's face was grim and
pale. I remember thinking I'd never seen him endure a procedure in such stoic
silence before, but I attributed this to the adoring presence of his little
sister, who by this time had climbed up on the bed and settled in beside him,
thumb in mouth, a doll clutched in her arm.
Half an hour went by. I had gone after a glass of orange juice and on
returning I stopped in the doorway. From that vantage point the room
resembled a three-ring circus; the parents still listening raptly to the
doctor's monologue, Geri was fussing over the stubborn I.V. equipment. But in
the core of this field of nervous energy Todd and Jenny seemed to form an
island of stillness. Todd lay stiffly on his back, his face impassive as he
watched the dark, red blood travel slowly down the clear plastic tubing.
Jenny sucked her thumb intently, her head on his shoulder.
It seemed to me that Todd was trying to get Geri's attention. I was about to
intervene when the speaker paused and Todd's quavery voice came through: "Geri
excuse me, but how long will it be now?" "Well, Todd, what do you mean
exactly? All of Geri's attention was on him now.
"I mean,how much time before I die, after all my blood is gone out of me?"
In the shocked silence that followed there was an exchange of looks between
us. Nobody trusted his voice enough to speak. In a series of still-life
pictures that remain forever etched in my mind, I saw Jenny's mother put her
hand to her mouth and look away; I saw his father break a pencil and hurl it
down; and Doctor Sutter mutely contemplated his shiny black shoes. I am
ashamed to say that I could only stand frozen in the doorway. Only Geri
,bless her - had the composure to speak. She crouched down until her eyes
were level with his and said in a soft voice, "No sweetie, you aren't going to
die. Your body is making more blood right now."
With that, Todd's body crumpled. He turned away and buried his face in the
pillow, shoulders shaking. Gone was every last shred of pretense.
As we came to our senses we became aware of the full magnitude of Todd's
sacrifice for his sister. On that bright, clear morning we felt grateful to
have witnessed an unparalleled gesture of love. As mother and father blindly
groped to embrace their two children, the rest of us crowded around awkwardly.
The doctor made faltering attempts to express the emotion he was feeling.
We had something intangible in that hospital room, the five of us. And
though we may never attain his level of selflessness, we had learned the most
valuable lesson in love from a little child.
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