As they walked along Peter started to reminisce as to the life and times of the post he was carrying, wondering what tree it had come from, who had cut it down and when, and what sights it had seen and experienced during its long life. He pondered its feelings as it was cut to size and placed in the ground, wire being strung between it and its brothers to fence in the cattle that were brought to the meadow every summer to graze. He thought of the beautiful sunrises it had enjoyed as it faced east to the Rocky Mountains and also of the sunsets as they played across the face of the mountains, setting them afire with gold and rose and mauve. He knew it could relate times of being buried under many feet of snow by winter storms as they swept across the sky from the mountains and of watching lightning play around the meadow during summer thunderstorms. And still it stood strong.

He wondered how it felt when workmen came again, this time with huge bulldozers, crudely pulling up the post and many of its brothers to make way for the road that was to bring homes to the secluded meadow. As it lay there, tossed aside, did it wonder if this was the end of its usefulness? Would it just stay there indefinitely to sink slowly back into the ground from whence it came, or would it be gathered for firewood to heat one of the homes soon to be built? What would it say as it was riding along on Peter’s shoulder, then stacked in the garage? Did it have any inkling of the new life that would soon be coming?

Under the contemplative gaze of Peter over the next few days it felt that something new was happening. When it was gathered up along with several of its brothers and taken to a woodshop, fear came as it saw the pieces of electrical equipment and then felt the sharp edge of the saw as it was cut in different lengths, then trimmed on two sides. It knew that this, indeed, was the end; it was dying and soon would be no more. After the big cuts the sanding came; over and over again the abrasive surface of the sander was run across the cut sides, wearing them down until they resembled satin as smooth as any queen’s gown.

Now the beauty of its colors, the pattern of its grain, and the sweet aroma that had been hidden for so long was revealed. It wondered what would happen next as Peter ran his fingers over the smooth surface, admiring its beauty, holding up first one pattern with God’s Word on it, then another, to the side with the largest cut, contemplating what words would best fit its personality. It heard the prayer of Peter’s heart as he talked to Jesus, asking Him the purpose for which He had made that particular piece of wood, and marveled at the possibility of new life.

The decision made, Peter gently applied some sandblast stencil tape to one side of the wood. He transferred the Scripture pattern to the tape and started the cutting process with a sharp X-Acto knife, going around the outside of the letters. Although the knife bit very little into the wood, it felt as if it were being crucified and torn into shreds, crying out in pain. After a few minutes the excess tape was pulled away, leaving only the tape that formed the precious Words that were to be its new purpose for being.

Again it was stacked in the garage along with its kindred, who also were covered with tape that proclaimed the Word of God. After a while they were gathered up, put in the car, and carried across the mountain to another workshop. One by one the pieces were taken into the shop where great noises and clouds of dust were issuing forth. The post was finally taken in, set on a rack and a huge hose was pointed at it. The roaring began and as the sand hit it and began to eat away at its surface it groaned in agony. “The pain is too much to bear, I will surely be completely done away with”, it cried as it felt the sand biting deeper and deeper into its innermost being. Suddenly the noise stopped and all was still. Peter gently blew the dust away and saw deeply into the heart of the post where the beautiful sunset colors of gold, lavender and burgundy were now revealed in three dimensions instead of one.

The post was again placed in the car, taken back across the mountains, laid out on the worktable in the garage, and the tape was removed, revealing the letters that now stood out in bold relief. Again it was sanded, then covered with a soothing stain and a clear lacquer, listening to the music in the background praising God and glorifying the One Who does all things well. It heard, as it was being clothed with the beautiful shades of stain, blessings being offered up to the Lord for making such beauty as was being observed in it, and praises for the Word that it was now proclaiming—”LO, I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS”. In the polished surface He Who has loved us from the beginning looked down and saw, not only His Word, but also His glorious reflection. As the post rested, exhausted but happy, it seemed that it heard, in the quiet recesses of its being, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant”.

Rebekah

LEGACY FROM A LOVELY LADY
GIVEN TO HER ADOPTED SON
(Excerpt from “Mission: Success!” by Og Mandino)

God, I thank You for this day. I know I have not accomplished as yet all You expect of me, and if that is your reason for bathing me in the fresh dew of another dawn, I am most grateful. I am prepared, at last, to make You proud of me. I will forget yesterday, with all its trials and tribulations, aggravations and setbacks, anger and frustrations. The past is already a dream from which I can neither retrieve a single word nor erase any foolish deeds. I will resolve, however, that if I have injured anyone yesterday through my thoughtlessness, I will not let this day’s sun set before I make amends, and nothing I do today will be of greater importance. I will not fret the future. My success and happiness does not depend on

straining to see what lurks dimly on the horizon but to do, this day, what lies clearly at hand.

I will treasure this day, for it is all I have. I know that its rushing hours cannot be accumulated or stored, like precious grain, for future use.

I will live as all good actors do when they are onstage – only in the moment. I cannot perform at my best today by regretting my previous act’s mistakes or worrying about the scene to come.

I will embrace today’s difficult tasks, take off my coat, and make dust in the world. I will remember that the busier I am, the less harm I am apt to suffer, the tastier will be my food, the sweeter my sleep, and the better satisfied I will be with my place in the world.

I will free myself today from slavery to the clock and calendar. Although I will plan this day in order to conserve my steps and energy, I will begin to measure my life in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not seasons; in feelings, not figures on a dial.

I will remain aware of how little it takes to make this a happy day. Never will I pursue happiness, because it is not a goal, just a by-product, and there is no happiness in having or in getting, only in giving.

I will run from no danger I might encounter today, because I am certain that nothing will happen to me that I am not equipped to handle with your help. Just as any gem is polished by friction, I am certain to become more valuable through this day’s adversities, and if you close one door, you always open another for me.

I will live this day as if it were Christmas. I will be a giver of gifts and deliver to my enemies the gift of forgiveness; my opponents, tolerance; my friends, a smile; my children, a good example, and every gift will be wrapped with unconditional love.

I will waste not even a precious second today in anger or hate or jealousy or selfishness. I know that the seeds I sow I will harvest, because every action, good or bad, is always followed by an equal reaction. I will plant only good seeds this day.

I will treat today as a priceless violin. One may draw harmony from it and another, discord, yet no one will blame the instrument. Life is the same, and if I play it correctly, it will give forth beauty, but if I play it ignorantly, it will produce ugliness.

I will condition myself to look on every problem I encounter today as no more than a pebble in my shoe. I remember the pain, so harsh I could hardly walk, and recall my surprise when I removed my shoe and found only a grain of sand. I will work convinced that nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm. To do anything today that is truly worth doing, I must not stand back shivering and thinking of the cold and danger, but jump in with gusto and scramble through as well as I can.

I will face the world with goals set for this day, but they will be attainable ones, not the vague, impossible variety declared by those who make a career of failure. I realize that You always try me with a little, first, to see what I would do with a lot.

I will never hide my talents. If I am silent, I will fall back. If I walk away from any challenge today, my self-esteem will be forever scarred, and if I cease to grow, even a little, I will become smaller. I reject the stationary position because it is always the beginning of the end.

I will keep a smile on my face and in my heart even when it hurts today. I know that the world is a looking glass and gives back to me the reflection of my own soul. Now I understand the secret of correcting the attitude of others and that is to correct my own.

I will turn away from any temptation today that might cause me to break my word or lose my self-respect. I am positive that the only thing I possess more valuable than my life is my honor.

I will work this day with all my strength, content in the knowledge that life does not consist of wallowing in the past or peering anxiously at the future. It is appalling to contemplate the great number of painful steps by which one arrives at a truth so old, so obvious, and so frequently expressed. Whatever it offers, little or much, my life is now.

I will pause whenever I am feeling sorry for myself today, and remember that this is the only day I have and I must play it to the fullest. What my part may signify in the great whole, I may not recognize, but I am here to play it and now is the time.

I will count this day a separate life.

I will remember that those who have fewest regrets are those who take each moment as it comes for all that it is worth.

This is my day!

These are my seeds.

Thank You, God, for this precious garden of time.

My Precious Sons and Daughters – I have a Place for You

The world and its ways have attempted to kill you from the beginning of your life.
Satan has tried to destroy you and eliminate the work
that I have intended for you to do.

I have called you to be My testimony to the world.
I have called you to be an example of My Saving Grace.
I love you.

You need to know that those who have harmed you were helpless pawns
and under Satan’s dominion.
They were agents to hinder your real calling in life.
Now, I will use what was intended for evil, to destroy that same evil.

You need to know that your or their actions
have not made you or them unclean in My sight.
As you turn your heart and affections completely to Me,
I see you as holy and blameless.

I see you as My virgin bride, spotless and pure.
I desire you to be with Me forever,
which is possible because of the victorious and cleansing work of
My Son Jesus,
“The Carpenter from Nazareth.”

You are beautiful and valuable to Me. I love you.

Your Heavenly Father

(continued from back cover)

Why is God raising up the voice of another John the Baptist on behalf of the mentally ill? I tell you why. Man can educate the head; but only God can educate the heart. And who is God? That question has spawned wars from time immemorial. Until that question is settled once and for “all,” conflicts in us – diagnosed as mental illness – and between us, are inevitable.

This storyteller will not waste your time or his time with platitudes. Healing for this scribe and storyteller did not begin and could not begin until it was established in his heart that JESUS IS GOD. The moment that Jesus became this scribe’s God, all the other gods that tried to rule his life were dethroned. In one form or another we are all sick and will stay that way unless we know that there is only one God, that his name is JESUS; and that we are to be conformed to His image. That is our destiny and high calling.

Our personal revelation that JESUS IS GOD can be equated to D-Day when Allied Forces landed on the beaches of Normandy during World War II. (Click on: D-Day in Pagosa Springs, Colorado), The war was not over on that day; but there was that paradigm shift. On that day victory became a forgone conclusion. Someone stronger than the enemy had established a beachhead. And in like manner, the moment that JESUS enthrones our hearts, all other gods must bow down to HIM. At that moment the war is by no means over, yet it is won. The outward manifestations of that war are often diagnosed as various forms of mental illnesses. There are casualties in every war. Suicide and murder are two hideous outcroppings of this war. Depression is a close second.

In a little while, this writer will vanish into obscurity. It is up to those who receive a copy of these words and a copy of his testimony to pass on the torch. Those who have a heart for warring against the enemy of our soul, those who have a heart for those trapped in the valley of the shadow of death; those who want to see the real enemy exposed and put behind bars; those who want to see our laws and attitudes change, are challenged to duplicate these words and or scribe your own “TO HELL AND BACK” story. In 1992 this storyteller sat in front of a camera for nearly six hours and shared his life. His keen desire was and still is that one day he might be invited to visit everyone locked up in any kind of a prison – whether imaginary or real. The only way that can happen is if you invite him. Three

DVD’s were made that chronicle his search and battle for sanity. The three DVD's have been segmented into 30 minute videos that can be viewed by clicking on this link: Video Epistles

Peter D. Laue – the Lord’s Scribe & Storyteller
965 Cloud Cap Ave.
Pagosa Springs, Colorado 81147
USA
www.stretcherbearers.com

This book is being graciously printed by Ed & Stacey Brown to heal the brokenhearted.

YOU ARE INVITED TO COME ALONGSIDE THIS SCRIBE AND HIS HANDMAIDEN REBEKAH AND TRANSLATE YOUR PERSONAL PAIN & COMPASSION INTO TREASURES!

Peter, the storyteller, continues to be compelled to open his treasure chest of stories to an audience that has a heart for others. And who are those “others?” They are the ones the psalmist David refers to as being in “the valley of the shadow of death.” The world calls them ill, hopeless, hungry, lonely, orphaned and behind bars, both real and imagined. This writer wants to focus on one particular group – those labeled or diagnosed as “mentally ill.”

It is this writer’s desire, his calling and his purpose in life, to change and challenge the climate for a group of people who are misunderstood, misdiagnosed, and often mistreated because of ignorance and a lack of kindness. Our social conscience must be stirred so that we will never view or treat these people as second class or demented citizens. Before slavery was abolished in America, England and other countries, the social conscience of a nation, its laws and its attitudes had to be altered. John Newton is well known as an activist who was able to indirectly influence the English Parliament that eventually outlawed slavery. Years later America followed suite, but not before a bloody civil war was fought. Other nations are still lagging behind and either openly or silently condones slavery in its many disguises.

The social conscience and laws need to change in many other areas. The manner that the “misfits” in society have been viewed and treated is one of these. The treatment of the mentally ill has been bizarre, cruel and at best can be described as “experimental.” Dorothea Lynde Dix was a forerunner for the mentally ill. There have been and will be others. Years ago she was commemorated on a one cent stamp. She has been referred to as “The Forgotten Angel of the Madhouse.” Her example has challenged others to become crusaders, including this writer.

As long as this storyteller has breath within him, he shall carry the torch on behalf of what this world calls “misfits” and “outcasts.” This storyteller was not a slave trader like John Newton, the author of the well-known hymn “Amazing Grace;” but he has walked through the valley of the shadow of death and met many of his counterparts – those who are still lingering in that valley. Our world closets these people away from the mainstream of society as if they were not important, not valuable, or do not exist. Yes, we may keep them breathing through our social welfare programs, but only barely. Since they no longer have a voice, we must be their voice

Our universities educate the head and grant prestigious degrees to those who go through rigorous training programs. This writer applauds their commitment but questions their ability to bring permanent healing to the afflicted. What is wrong? Universities are only able to educate the head. It takes challenging and often painful life-experiences to educate the heart.