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 s ubject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from
floor to 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 th ree 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 lo ok 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.
got this from joy's bloggy!!!!!!
"Superstar"
People always talk about (ey oh ey oh ey oh)
All the things their all about (ey oh ey oh ey oh)
Write it on a piece of paper,
Got a feeling i'll see you later.
There's something bout this,
Lets keep it moving,
And if its good lets just get something cooking.
Coz i really wanna rock with you,
I'm feeling some connection to the things you do.
(you do, you do).
[Chorus:]
I dont know what it is,
That makes me feel like this,
I dont know who you are,
But you must be some kind of superstar,
Coz you got all eyes on you no matter where you are,
(you just make me wanna play)
Baby take a look around (ey oh ey oh ey oh)
Everybody's getting down (ey oh ey oh ey oh)
Deal with all the problems later,
Bad boys on their best behaviour.
There's something bout you,
Lets keep it moving,
And if it's good lets just get something cooking,
Coz i really wanna rock with you,
I'm feeling some connection to the things you do,
(you do, you do).
I don't know what it is,
That makes me feel like this,
I don't know who you are,
But you must be some kind of superstar,
Coz you got all eyes on you no matter where you are,
(you just make me wanna play).
I like the way your movin' (ey oh ey oh ey oh)
I just get into the groove and then (you just make me wanna play),
If you just put pen to paper (ey oh ey oh ey oh)
Got that feeling i'll see you later.
Make your move, can we get a little closer,
You rock it just like you're supposed to,
Hey boy i ain't got nothing more to say,
Coz you just make me wanna play,
i don't know what it is,
That makes me feel like this,
i don't know,
Gotta be, gotta be a superstar,
All eyes on you.
[Chorus x2]
l whee!! l
name : nicol
birthday: 17071990
hair : dark brown
brothers/sisters: younger sis
who lives with you: mom sis maid
when is your bedtime?: anitime?!?
ever been so drunk you blacked out : nopes!!!
missed school : -scratches head- not 4 the last 2 years![im a good gurl!]
been hurt emotionally: duhh ?
kept a secret from everyone: yeahh
had an imaginary friend: nopes
wanted to hook up with a friend: of cause not..wad type of ques is this???
cried during a movie?: loads of times
ever thought an animated character was hot?: no ?!?
been on stage: yeahh
cut your hair?: duhh ?
FAVOURITES
colour: pink!
lace or satin: nopes
cartoon character: lilo
advertisment: the caltex 1 its real cute!!!
movie(s): too many to name
numbers: todae? shant tell you why :))
ice cream: chocolate with chocolate chips [yum]
subject: bio[my best subect!]
fave drink: h2o icelemontea sprite
RIGHT NOW
wearing: pink shirt and shorts
hair style: let down..
drinking: dunno..sum bitter gingeng tea 4 my flu???
thinking about:
someone special
listening to: so yesterdae and perfect
met someone new?: yupps..
cleaned your room: juz did n hour ago! -grins-
do laundry: havent tried
do you drive?: i wish
DO YOU BELIEVE IN
yourself: not now..feeling shitified.-bleahh-
santa claus: nah
tooth fairy: nope
destiny/fate: not really
angels: yeahh
ghosts: nopes-bud im scrared of 'em-
UFO: nah
FRIENDS AND LIFE
do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend?: no..
like anyone?: no
who's the shyest: lemme see david n jeanne
who's the weirdest: na..she's weird but real cute!
who is the most dirty minded friend(s): don wanna sae its quite insulting lahh..
who do you cry to?: i keep those to myself
when you cried the most: this yr. frenship probs with
ttperson kate gwen noes why nvm..those who understand me noe who it is to only 1 this year n i've given up on tt frenship.
worst feeling: hurt confused
who sent this to you: stole it from jingyu!!!-winks-
time now: 20:34:16 exactly
last word: tc!!!
