Devotional Snippet :)

Happy Sabbath dear friends :).I thank God for carrying me through this week.It's been tiresome and has made me weary.But there's much to be thankful for.For my Sabbath pre-opening-that is welcoming the Sabbath by yourself before actually going to gather with the saints-I decided to read the book testimonies for the church,volume 1.I'll be adding it to my readings for this year :).I was so blessed.I read a certain chapter titled Witholding Reproof and I learnt that the work of Ellen White was not an easy work and not everyone was receptive.Which should makes us more grateful for the Spirit of Prophecy.

But upon finishing the chapter afore mentioned, I decided to start the book from the beginning and I have been blessed.As I read chapter 1,I'm reminded of the statement of how God loves to use the broken to draw mankind to Himself.I'm encouraged as I consider how much I have to be thankful for;for God's leading hand in my life.As I read,I realized,the plan of salvation was indeed not an after thought and each one of us is useful.

May you be blessed,revived and deeply rooted in the One who planned your life before the foundations of the earth.Care to read the book with me?Testimonies for the Church,Volume 1,E.G.White :)

3. My Childhood

I was born at Gorham, Maine, November 26, 1827. My parents, Robert and Eunice Harmon, were for many years residents of this state. In early life they became earnest and devoted members of the Methodist Episcopal Church. In that church they held prominent connection, and labored for the conversion of sinners, and to build up the cause of God, for a period of forty years. During this time they had the joy of seeing their children, eight in number, all converted and gathered into the fold of Christ. Their decided second advent views, however, led to the separation of the family from the Methodist Church in the year 1843.
While I was but a child, my parents removed from Gorham to Portland, Maine. Here, at the age of nine years, an accident happened to me which was to affect my whole life. In company with my twin sister and one of our schoolmates, I was crossing a common in the city of Portland, when a girl about thirteen years of age, becoming angry at some trifle, followed us, threatening to strike us. Our parents had taught us never to contend with anyone, but if we were in danger of being abused or injured, to hasten home at once. We were doing this with all speed, but the girl followed us as rapidly, with a stone in her hand. I turned my head to see how far she was behind me, and as I did so, she threw the stone, and it hit me on the nose. I was stunned by the blow and fell senseless to the ground.

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When consciousness returned, I found myself in a merchant's store; my garments were covered with blood, which was pouring from my nose and streaming over the floor. A kind stranger offered to take me home in his carriage, but I, not realizing my weakness, told him that I preferred to walk home rather than soil his carriage with blood. Those present were not aware that my injury was so serious, and allowed me to do as I wished; but after walking only a few rods, I grew faint and dizzy. My twin sister and my schoolmate carried me home.
I have no recollection of anything further for some time after the accident. My mother said that I noticed nothing, but lay in a stupor for three weeks. No one but herself thought it possible for me to recover; but for some reason she felt that I would live. A kind neighbor, who had been very much interested in my behalf, at one time thought me to be dying. She wished to purchase a burial robe for me, but my mother said, Not yet; for something told her that I would not die.
When I again aroused to consciousness, it seemed to me that I had been asleep. I did not remember the accident, and was ignorant of the cause of my illness. As I began to gain a little strength, my curiosity was aroused by overhearing those who came to visit me say: "What a pity!" "I should not have known her," etc. I asked for a looking glass, and upon gazing into it, was shocked at the change in my appearance. Every feature of my face seemed changed. The bones of my nose had been broken, which caused this disfigurement.
The thought of carrying my misfortune through life was insupportable. I could see no pleasure in my existence. I did not wish to live, and yet feared to die, for I was unprepared. Friends who visited us looked with pity upon me, and advised my parents to prosecute the father of the girl who had, as they said, ruined me. But my mother was for peace; she

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said that if such a course would bring me back my health and natural looks, there would be something gained; but as this was impossible, it was best not to make enemies by following such advice.