It's the holiday spirit + cookies as medicine...

[Guest guest]

A couple of weeks ago, a mother was making an appearance in the news asking if anyone had seen her son, who had been missing for almost 2 years, and who was 12 years old when he went missing. She wanted to ask whoever knew where he was to give him the message that he could come forward. He had gone missing anticipating a negative decision in the family's appeal for political asylum in Sweden (they were/are Christian refugees from Iraq, fleeing religious persecution). He had left behind a letter explaining that he was afraid of having to go back, and would rather just disappear. After that, not a sound from him. The police had even suggested that the wording of the letter might indicate suicide. But no body had been found either.However. The decision had been positive. The family had been granted asylum. And the mother had tried ever since, in every way she could, to find the boy and to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid anymore. But no luck. Now she wanted the help from the general public.I admit to being quite the typical cynic when I read it, thinking that "He is dead. He was twelve when he went missing, and he's been gone for two years. He's dead." And with the added thought that: "Or, at least, the mother should hope that he is dead, because the only alternative is probably worse" (I was thinking of the gangs from Eastern Europe, unfortunately operating in Sweden too, kidnapping asylum seeking kids and selling them into international child prostitution rings, they target asylum seeking kids, because with less of a social network around them, they are easy targets).The next day the paper wrote that one of their readers had gotten in touch with the papoer, and sworn that she had seen the boy on a streetcar in Gothenburg. He had been playing music, and asking the passengers for money. She said that she don't usually remember faces, but that "he had the saddest eyes I had ever seen, so his face stayed with me. When I saw the photo in the paper I knew it was him." I was still quite the typical cynic, reading that. I thought: "Wishful thinking". "Well meaning, but still, wishful thinking. If that really was him, more than one person would have noticed him".However, the day after that, my cynicism was proven dead wrong. The boy on the streetcar was the missing refugee boy. He had been living on the streets for two years (but on his own). And survived on playing music and doing odd jobs. During the winter months he had slept in an immigrant church, where he felt safe because there were people speaking his language. Someone, I think it was someone in that church, had shown him the articles in the paper, and explained that his mother wanted him to come forward. He had found a payphone and called her number, but had been worried, because immediately after he said "hi mom, it's me" there had been a crash sound, and the line seemed to have went dead. When he tried again he couldn't get through. He took whatever money he had and bought a train ticket to get to where she was, to find out what had happened.Turned out, she had fainted upon hearing his voice, and had broken the phone when crashing to the floor (that's why no further calls went through). She had been taken to the hospital, but was fine. Now he is back home. She really did get her boy back for Christmas. Now, if that's not the true spirit of the holidays, a mother reunited with her lost child, I don't know what would be!And the cookies as medicine? I read in a cook book that during the 16th century gingerbread cookies were sold at the pharmacies. Doctors prescibed it as a cure for "bad mood", among other things. How is that for a med with not much of side effects? (ok, maybe a little weight gain etc...)love/Reb

[Guest guest]

That is AWESOME Reb! Thanks for telling us about it A Real Christmas Miracle indeed!!!

 ~*~Hugs~*~

~*~Akiba~*~

http://www.affiliates-natural-salt-lamps.com/pages/156.php

-- It's the holiday spirit + cookies as medicine...

A couple of weeks ago, a mother was making an appearance in the news asking if anyone had seen her son, who had been missing for almost 2 years, and who was 12 years old when he went missing. She wanted to ask whoever knew where he was to give him the message that he could come forward. He had gone missing anticipating a negative decision in the family's appeal for political asylum in Sweden (they were/are Christian refugees from Iraq, fleeing religious persecution). He had left behind a letter explaining that he was afraid of having to go back, and would rather just disappear. After that, not a sound from him. The police had even suggested that the wording of the letter might indicate suicide. But no body had been found either.

However. The decision had been positiv e. The family had been granted asylum. And the mother had tried ever since, in every way she could, to find the boy and to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid anymore. But no luck. Now she wanted the help from the general public.

I admit to being quite the typical cynic when I read it, thinking that "He is dead. He was twelve when he went missing, and he's been gone for two years. He's dead." And with the added thought that: "Or, at least, the mother should hope that he is dead, because the only alternative is probably worse" (I was thinking of the gangs from Eastern Europe, unfortunately operating in Sweden too, kidnapping asylum seeking kids and selling them into international child prostitution rings, they target asylum seeking kids, because with less of a social network around them, they are easy targets).

The next day the paper wrote that one of their readers had gotten in touch with the papoer, and sworn that she had seen the boy on a streetcar in Gothenburg. He had been playing music, and asking the passengers for money. She said that she don't usually remember faces, but that "he had the saddest eyes I had ever seen, so his face stayed with me. When I saw the photo in the paper I knew it was him."

I was still quite the typical cynic, reading that. I thought: "Wishful thinking". "Well meaning, but still, wishful thinking. If that really was him, more than one person would have noticed him".

However, the day after that, my cynicism was proven dead wrong. The boy on the streetcar was the missing refugee boy. He had been living on the streets for two years (but on his own). And survived on playing music and doing odd jobs. During the winter months he had slept in an immigrant church, where he felt safe because there were people speaking his language. Someone, I think it was someone in that church, had shown him the articles in the paper, and explained that his mother wanted him to come forward.

He had found a payphone and called her number, but had been worried, because immediately after he said "hi mom, it's me" there had been a crash sound, and the line seemed to have went dead. When he tried again he couldn't get through. He took whatever money he had and bought a train ticket to get to where she was, to find out what had happened.

Turned out, she had fainted upon hearing his voice, and had broken the phone when crashing to the floor (that's why no further calls went through). She had been taken to the hospital, but was fine.

Now he is back home. She really did get her boy back for Christmas. Now, if that's not the true spirit of the holidays, a mother reunited with her lost child, I don't know what would be!

And the cookies as medicine? I read in a cook book that during the 16th century gingerbread cookies were sold at the pharmacies. Doctors prescibed it as a cure for "bad mood", among other things. How is that for a med with not much of side effects? (ok, maybe a little weight gain etc...)

love

/Reb

[Guest guest]

How wonderful!!!! Thank you SO much for sending this. What a fantastic story. That mother truly will have a Christmas to remember.love to you, Reb, for sharing this. SharonThis email is a natural hand made product. The slight variations in spelling and grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to be considered flaws or defects. To: MSersLife Sent: Sat, December 18, 2010 9:04:37 AMSubject: It's the holiday spirit + cookies as medicine...

A couple of weeks ago, a mother was making an appearance in the news asking if anyone had seen her son, who had been missing for almost 2 years, and who was 12 years old when he went missing. She wanted to ask whoever knew where he was to give him the message that he could come forward. He had gone missing anticipating a negative decision in the family's appeal for political asylum in Sweden (they were/are Christian refugees from Iraq, fleeing religious persecution). He had left behind a letter explaining that he was afraid of having to go back, and would rather just disappear. After that, not a sound from him. The police had even suggested that the wording of the letter might indicate suicide. But no body had been found either.However. The decision had

been positive. The family had been granted asylum. And the mother had tried ever since, in every way she could, to find the boy and to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid anymore. But no luck. Now she wanted the help from the general public.I admit to being quite the typical cynic when I read it, thinking that "He is dead. He was twelve when he went missing, and he's been gone for two years. He's dead." And with the added thought that: "Or, at least, the mother should hope that he is dead, because the only alternative is probably worse" (I was thinking of the gangs from Eastern Europe, unfortunately operating in Sweden too, kidnapping asylum seeking kids and selling them into international child prostitution rings, they target asylum seeking kids, because with less of a social network around

them, they are easy targets).The next day the paper wrote that one of their readers had gotten in touch with the papoer, and sworn that she had seen the boy on a streetcar in Gothenburg. He had been playing music, and asking the passengers for money. She said that she don't usually remember faces, but that "he had the saddest eyes I had ever seen, so his face stayed with me. When I saw the photo in the paper I knew it was him." I was still quite the typical cynic, reading that. I thought: "Wishful thinking". "Well meaning, but still, wishful thinking. If that really was him, more than one person would have noticed

him".However, the day after that, my cynicism was proven dead wrong. The boy on the streetcar was the missing refugee boy. He had been living on the streets for two years (but on his own). And survived on playing music and doing odd jobs. During the winter months he had slept in an immigrant church, where he felt safe because there were people speaking his language. Someone, I think it was someone in that church, had shown him the articles in the paper, and explained that his mother wanted him to come forward. He had found a payphone and called her number, but had been worried, because immediately after he said "hi mom, it's me" there had been a

crash sound, and the line seemed to have went dead. When he tried again he couldn't get through. He took whatever money he had and bought a train ticket to get to where she was, to find out what had happened.Turned out, she had fainted upon hearing his voice, and had broken the phone when crashing to the floor (that's why no further calls went through). She had been taken to the hospital, but was fine. Now he is back home. She really did get her boy back for Christmas. Now, if that's not the true spirit of the holidays, a mother reunited with her lost child, I don't know what would be!And the cookies as medicine? I read in a cook book that during the 16th century gingerbread cookies were sold at the pharmacies. Doctors prescibed it as a cure for "bad mood", among other things. How is that for a med with not much of side effects? (ok, maybe a little weight gain etc...)love/Reb

[Guest guest]

Reb, what a nice Christmas story. Thanks for shearing it with us. Margaret A. CoteTo: MSersLife Sent: Sat, December 18, 2010 10:04:37 AMSubject: It's the holiday spirit + cookies as medicine...

A couple of weeks ago, a mother was making an appearance in the news asking if anyone had seen her son, who had been missing for almost 2 years, and who was 12 years old when he went missing. She wanted to ask whoever knew where he was to give him the message that he could come forward. He had gone missing anticipating a negative decision in the family's appeal for political asylum in Sweden (they were/are Christian refugees from Iraq, fleeing religious persecution). He had left behind a letter explaining that he was afraid of having to go back, and would rather just disappear. After that, not a sound from him. The police had even suggested that the wording of the letter might indicate suicide. But no body had been found either.However. The

decision had been positive. The family had been granted asylum. And the mother had tried ever since, in every way she could, to find the boy and to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid anymore. But no luck. Now she wanted the help from the general public.I admit to being quite the typical cynic when I read it, thinking that "He is dead. He was twelve when he went missing, and he's been gone for two years. He's dead." And with the added thought that: "Or, at least, the mother should hope that he is dead, because the only alternative is probably worse" (I was thinking of the gangs from Eastern Europe, unfortunately operating in Sweden too, kidnapping asylum seeking kids and selling them into international child prostitution rings, they target asylum seeking kids, because with less of a social

network around them, they are easy targets).The next day the paper wrote that one of their readers had gotten in touch with the papoer, and sworn that she had seen the boy on a streetcar in Gothenburg. He had been playing music, and asking the passengers for money. She said that she don't usually remember faces, but that "he had the saddest eyes I had ever seen, so his face stayed with me. When I saw the photo in the paper I knew it was him." I was still quite the typical cynic, reading that. I thought: "Wishful thinking". "Well meaning, but still, wishful thinking. If that really was him, more than one person would have noticed

him".However, the day after that, my cynicism was proven dead wrong. The boy on the streetcar was the missing refugee boy. He had been living on the streets for two years (but on his own). And survived on playing music and doing odd jobs. During the winter months he had slept in an immigrant church, where he felt safe because there were people speaking his language. Someone, I think it was someone in that church, had shown him the articles in the paper, and explained that his mother wanted him to come forward. He had found a payphone and called her number, but had been worried, because immediately after he said "hi mom, it's me" there had been a

crash sound, and the line seemed to have went dead. When he tried again he couldn't get through. He took whatever money he had and bought a train ticket to get to where she was, to find out what had happened.Turned out, she had fainted upon hearing his voice, and had broken the phone when crashing to the floor (that's why no further calls went through). She had been taken to the hospital, but was fine. Now he is back home. She really did get her boy back for Christmas. Now, if that's not the true spirit of the holidays, a mother reunited with her lost child, I don't know what would be!And the cookies as medicine? I read in a cook book that during the 16th century gingerbread cookies were sold at the pharmacies. Doctors prescibed it as a cure for "bad mood", among other things. How is that for a med with not much of side effects? (ok, maybe a little weight gain etc...)love/Reb

[Guest guest]

What a beautiful story, Reb! Sounds like something that should be a made for TV movie! Thank you for sharing this, it really warmed my heart!I like the cookies=medicine; that is ALWAYS my prescription! Hence, my size!love to you and .Christmas blessings,KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Sat, December 18,

2010 11:04:37 AMSubject: It's the holiday spirit + cookies as medicine...

A couple of weeks ago, a mother was making an appearance in the news asking if anyone had seen her son, who had been missing for almost 2 years, and who was 12 years old when he went missing. She wanted to ask whoever knew where he was to give him the message that he could come forward. He had gone missing anticipating a negative decision in the family's appeal for political asylum in Sweden (they were/are Christian refugees from Iraq, fleeing religious persecution). He had left behind a letter explaining that he was afraid of having to go back, and would rather just disappear. After that, not a sound from him. The police had even suggested that the wording of the letter might indicate suicide. But no body had been found either.However. The

decision had been positive. The family had been granted asylum. And the mother had tried ever since, in every way she could, to find the boy and to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid anymore. But no luck. Now she wanted the help from the general public.I admit to being quite the typical cynic when I read it, thinking that "He is dead. He was twelve when he went missing, and he's been gone for two years. He's dead." And with the added thought that: "Or, at least, the mother should hope that he is dead, because the only alternative is probably worse" (I was thinking of the gangs from Eastern Europe, unfortunately operating in Sweden too, kidnapping asylum seeking kids and selling them into international child prostitution rings, they target asylum seeking kids, because with less of a social

network around them, they are easy targets).The next day the paper wrote that one of their readers had gotten in touch with the papoer, and sworn that she had seen the boy on a streetcar in Gothenburg. He had been playing music, and asking the passengers for money. She said that she don't usually remember faces, but that "he had the saddest eyes I had ever seen, so his face stayed with me. When I saw the photo in the paper I knew it was him." I was still quite the typical cynic, reading that. I thought: "Wishful thinking". "Well meaning, but still, wishful thinking. If that really was him, more than one person would have noticed

him".However, the day after that, my cynicism was proven dead wrong. The boy on the streetcar was the missing refugee boy. He had been living on the streets for two years (but on his own). And survived on playing music and doing odd jobs. During the winter months he had slept in an immigrant church, where he felt safe because there were people speaking his language. Someone, I think it was someone in that church, had shown him the articles in the paper, and explained that his mother wanted him to come forward. He had found a payphone and called her number, but had been worried, because immediately after he said "hi mom, it's me" there had been a

crash sound, and the line seemed to have went dead. When he tried again he couldn't get through. He took whatever money he had and bought a train ticket to get to where she was, to find out what had happened.Turned out, she had fainted upon hearing his voice, and had broken the phone when crashing to the floor (that's why no further calls went through). She had been taken to the hospital, but was fine. Now he is back home. She really did get her boy back for Christmas. Now, if that's not the true spirit of the holidays, a mother reunited with her lost child, I don't know what would be!And the cookies as medicine? I read in a cook book that during the 16th century gingerbread cookies were sold at the pharmacies. Doctors prescibed it as a cure for "bad mood", among other things. How is that for a med with not much of side effects? (ok, maybe a little weight gain etc...)love/Reb