Vous avez cherché: you why did this like attack (Anglais - Télougou)

why did you do like this now
ఇలాంటివి నాకు నమ్మకం లేదు

why did you ask
మీరు ఎందుకు అడిగారు

why did you call me
నువ్వు నాకు కాల్ చేసావా

why did u eat to me
మీరు నన్ను ఎందుకు చంపి తింటున్నారు

why did you delete message
మీరు సందేశాన్ని ఎందుకు తొలగించారు

oh no. when did this happen
oh no! when did this happen

why did not you have the college
మీకు కళాశాల ఎందుకు లేదు

why did l come to school yesterday
నేను నిన్న ఎందుకు పాఠశాలకు వచ్చాను

why did you message for me all the time
after completion of msg me

why did you block me on whatsapp
మీరు నన్ను whatsappలో బ్లాక్ చేశారా?

why did you call me again and against
మీరు మళ్ళీ మరియు వ్యతిరేకంగా ఎందుకు పిలిచారు

why did you not lift my call meaning in telugu
in pooja did not lift tha call

why did u say i don't message u??
నేను మిమ్మల్ని మోసం చేయను

i've been thinking about why did he say that
నేనెప్పుడూ నీ గురించే ఆలోచిస్తూ ఉంటాను.

but my question is who are you & why should you msg me ?
మీరు నన్ను ఎందుకు మిస్ అవుతున్నారు

i'm fine. what about you. why do you need russian?
मै ठीक हूँ। आप क्या। आपको रूसी की आवश्यकता क्यों है?

i never forget every moment spend with you why because thas was sweet memories in my life
నా జీవితంలో మధురమైన జ్ఞాపకాలు ఎందుకంటే నేను మీతో ప్రతి క్షణం మరచిపోలేను

then why did you then why did you then why did you not lift my phone call lift my phone call meaning in telugu
అలాంటప్పుడు మీరు నా ఫోన్ కాల్ ఎందుకు లిఫ్ట్ చేసారు అంటే తెలుగులో

the room – story about what jesus does with our sins in that place between wakefulness and dreams, i found myself in the room. there were no distinguishing features save for one wall covered with small index card files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly 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 “people i have liked.” i opened it and began flipping 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 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 short life to write 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 own signature. 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 an 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 3 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 the hurt 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. read more at stories | jesus christ wallpapers | christian songs online - part 123 http://www.turnbacktogod.com/category/stories/page/123/#ixzz3ulm9yz6m
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