Virgi
,
Thank you very very much.----- Original Message ---God bless,
Have a good day.
Vinny--
From: "VIRGIE UNDERWOOD" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, May 12, 2006 4:07 AM
Subject: Re: I need that message on the room.
> Carol
> Here you go.
> Virgie and Hoshi
>
> Subject: life's record
> Date: Thursday, May 04, 2006 11:36 PM
>
> Even if you have seen this one before it is worth reading again. I get
> it
> every couple years and believe it is to remind me to take a good look at
> my
> life and see if I am happy with the way I am living it. Its up to you
> read
> on or delete it.
> The Room
> You know sometimes when you are in a hurry and don't have
> Time
> To read emails that friends and family send to you so you just close it
> and
> Think to yourself that you will read them later, but then you never get
> Around to it?
> Read this email. Don't close it. I don't care if you forward
> it
> On or delete it afterwards - just read it.
> It's about an essay written by a teenage boy called "The
> Room".
> I hate the thought of what my file room will look like. May you be as
> Moved
> And blessed as I was when I read it. Thanks for letting me share it
> with You.
> ----------------------------------------------------------
> THE ROOM
> 17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write
> Something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed
> 'em,"
> He later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's
> the
> Best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.
> Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a
> cousin
> Found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High
> School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately
> wanted
> Every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers,
> his
> Homework.
> Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about
> Encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment
> of
> The teen's life... But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and
> Bruce
> Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It
> makes
> Such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are
> there."
> Mr. Moore said.
> Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day.
> He
> Was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off
> Bulen-Pierce
> Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the
> Wreck
> Unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.
> The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it
> among
> The
> Family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a
> point.
> I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs.
> Moore
> Said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision
> of
> Life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know
> I'll
> See him."
> ** Brian's Essay: The Room... **
> In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found
> myself
> In
> The room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall
> Covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in
> libraries
> That list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these
> Files, which stretched from floor to the ceiling and seemingly endless
> in
> Either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall
> of
> Files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I
> have
> Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly
> shut
> It, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
> And
> Then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
> This lifeless room with its small files was a crude
> catalog
> System for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment,
> big
> And small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and
> Curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly
> Opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet
> Memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would
> look
> Over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
> A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I
> have
> Betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird
> "Books
> I
> Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have
> Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things
> I've
> Yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done
> in
> My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under my Breath at My Parents." I
> never
> Ceased to be surprised by the contents.
> Often there were many more cards than I expected.
> Sometimes
> Fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I
> had
> Lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill
> each of
> These thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this
> Truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my
> Signature.
> When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have
> watched", I
> Realized the files grew to contain their contents The cards were packed
> Tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of
> the
> File. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more
> by
> The vast time I knew that file represented.
> When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a
> Chill
> Run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to
> Test
> Its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
> I felt sick to think that such a moment had been
> recorded. An
> Almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one
> must
> Ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy
> Them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter
> now.
> I
> Had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and
> began
> Pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became
> Desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel
> when I
> Tried to tear it.
> Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its
> Slot.
> Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying
> sigh.
> And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared
> the
> Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer,
> almost
> Unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three
> inches
> Long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one
> hand.
> And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep
> that
> They hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on
> my
> Knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of
> it
> All. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one
> must
> Ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But
> then
> As I pushed away the tears, I saw HIM.
> No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I
> watched
> Helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't
> Bear
> To watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look
> at
> His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
> He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did
> He
> Have
> To read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the
> Room.
> He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't
> Anger
> Me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry
> Again.
> He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many
> Things.
> But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
> Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.
> Starting
> At
> One end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign
> His
> Name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I
> could
> Find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name
> shouldn't
> Be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark,
> so
> Alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.
> He
> Gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the
> Cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but
> the
> Next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to
> my
> Side.
> He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is
> finished."
> I
> Stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.
> There were still cards to be written.
> "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-
> Phil.
> 4:13
> "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son,
> that
> Whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." -
> John
> 3:16
> If you feel the same way forward it so the love of Jesus will touch
> their
> Lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger,
> how
> About yours?
> IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO
> AROUND
> THE
> WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE, FOR THE CHRISTIAN OR NOT! MAY GOD BLESS
> YOU
> ALL!
> You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will
> know
> Whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.
> <
> http://www.incredimail.com/index.asp?id=96627>
>
> FREE emoticons for your
> email! click Here!
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Carol Pearson" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Friday, May 12, 2006 5:45 AM
> Subject: Re: I need that message on the room.
>
>
>> Maybe I haven't seen that one. Could I have a copy as well, please?
>>
>>
>> --
>> Carol
>> [log in to unmask]
>>
>>
>>
>>
>> ----- Original Message -----
>> From: "Vinny Samarco" <[log in to unmask]>
>> To: <[log in to unmask]>
>> Sent: Friday, May 12, 2006 3:57 AM
>> Subject: I need that message on the room.
>>
>>
>>> Hi everyone,
>>> If any of you have a copy of the message about the files in a room, and
>>> the Lord signing His name over yours, etc. Please forward a copy to me
>>> for someone else. My address is:
>>>
>>> [log in to unmask]
>>> God bless.
>>> Vinny
>>>
>>>
>>> __________ NOD32 1.1532 (20060511) Information __________
>>>
>>> This message was checked by NOD32 antivirus system.
>>> http://www.eset.com
>>>
>>>
>>
>
>
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