Sunday, May 31, 2009


At a young and tender age, Patti Wilson was told by her doctor that she was an epileptic. Her father, Jim Wilson, is a morning jogger. One day she smiled through her teenage braces and said, “Daddy what I’d really love to do is run with you every day, but I’m afraid I’ll have a seizure.”

Her father told her, “If you do, I know how to handle it so let’s start running!” That’s just what they did every day. It was a wonderful experience for them to share and there were no seizures at all while she was running. After a few weeks, she told her father, “Daddy, what I’d really love to do is break the world’s long- distance running record for women.”

Her father checked the Guinness Book of World Records and found that the farthest any woman had run was 80 miles. As a
freshman in high school, Patti announced, “I’m going to run from Orange County up to San Francisco.” (A distance of 400 miles.) “As a sophomore,” she went on, “I’m going to run to Portland, Oregon.” (Over 1,500 miles.) “As a junior I’ll run to St. Louis. (About 2,000 miles.)

“As a senior I’ll run to the White House.” (More than 3,000 miles away.) In view of her handicap, Patti was as ambitious as she was enthusiastic, but she said she looked at the handicap of being an epileptic as simply “an inconvenience.” She focused not on what she had lost, but on what she had left.

That year she completed her run to San Francisco wearing a T-shirt that read, “I love Epileptics.” Her dad ran every mile at
her side, and her mom, a nurse, followed in a motor home behind them in case anything went wrong.

In her sophomore year Patti’s classmates got behind her. They built a giant poster that read, “Run, Patti, Run!” (This has since become her motto and the title of a book she has written.)

On her second marathon, en route to Portland, she fractured a bone in her foot. A doctor told her she had to stop her run. He
said, “I’ve got to put a cast on your ankle so that you don’t sustain permanent damage.” “Doc, you don’t understand,” she said. “This isn’t just a whim of mine, it’s a magnificent obsession!

I’m not just doing it for me, I’m doing it to break the chains on the brains that limit so many others. Isn’t there a way I can keep running?” He gave her one option. He could wrap it in adhesive instead of putting it in a cast. He warned her that it would be incredibly painful, and told her, “It will blister.”

She told the doctor to wrap it up. She finished the run to Portland, completing her last mile with the governor of Oregon. You may have seen the headlines: “Super Runner, Patti Wilson Ends Marathon For Epilepsy On Her 17th Birthday.”

After four months of almost continuous running from West Coast to the East Coast, Patti arrived in Washington and shook
the hand of the President of the United States. She told him, “I wanted people to know that epileptics are normal human beings
with normal lives.”

I told this story at one of my seminars not long ago, and afterward a big teary-eyed man came up to me, stuck out his big
meaty hand and said, “Mark, my name is Jim Wilson.

You were talking about my daughter, Patti.” Because of her noble efforts, he told me enough money had been raised to open up 19 multi- million-dollar epileptic centers around the country.

If Patti Wilson can do so much with so little, what can you do to outperform yourself in a state of total wellness?

Author Unknown

Saturday, May 30, 2009


The famous author of The Power of Positive Thinking once told this story.

A man once telephoned Norman Vincent Peale. He was despondent and told the reverend that he had nothing left to live for. Peale invited the man over to his office. "Everything is gone, hopeless," the man told him. "I'm living in deepest darkness. In fact, I've lost heart for living altogether."

Norman Vincent Peale smiled sympathetically.

"Let's take a look at your situation," he said calmly. On a sheet of paper he drew a vertical line down the middle. He suggested that they list on the left side the things the man had lost, and on the right, the things he had left. "You won't need that column on the right side," said the man sadly. "I have nothing left, period."

Peale asked, "When did your wife leave you?"

"What do you mean? She hasn't left me. My wife loves me!"

"That's great!" said Peale enthusiastically. "Then that will be number one in the right-hand column—Wife hasn't left. Now, when were your children jailed?"

"That's silly. My children aren't in jail!"

"Good! That's number two in the right-hand column—Children not in jail," said Peale, jotting it down.

After a few more questions in the same vein, the man finally got the point and smiled in spite of himself. "Funny, how things change when you think of them that way," he said.

Change your thoughts and you change your world.

Norman Vincent Peale

If you paint in your mind a picture of bright and happy expectations, you put yourself into a condition conducive to your goal.

Norman Vincent Peale

Friday, May 29, 2009


Huang NaiHui was born in 1964 in Taipei, Taiwan as the eldest child to a well to do family. When he was a child, he suffered from very high fever. His grandmother being very superstitious, attempted to “cure” him by using the traditional methods of feeding him with incense ash (an ancient Chinese belief). This led him to suffer from cerebral spasm which he became partially paralyzed.

His parents afraid that he may bring bad luck to them decided to abandon him. His grandmother decided to take up the responsibility to bring him up.

It was at the age of 13 that he went to school to study. At first he was very slow at learning. Gradually he was able to pick up.

At the age of 22, he would study and work part time. He would sell lottery tickets and flowers during the day and attend classes at night. During his spare time he would attend Psychology and Chinese language classes at the University of Taiwan as an observer! The joy of learning overcomes his self pity.

He uses his knowledge very well in his business of selling flowers. He would go door to door selling flowers during the day. He would sell flowers at pubs and night clubs at night. At times, in order sell, he has to sing for his patrons even though he did it out of tune. He was often teased by people. A fact he learned to accept as a handicap. However he would pick himself up and face the next customer with a smile.

What hurt him most was whenever he sees a happy family together. Something he never enjoyed…the warmth of a family.

When Huang NaiHui was 24, his grandmother passed away. It was the darkest day of his life. She was the only person in his life even his younger siblings spurned him. But on that day he was overwhelmed with joy with the opportunity to see his again who have come to pay their last respect for his grandmother.

He was hoping to be re-united with his family. To his surprise, that was not meant to be. His father asked him to leave the ancestral home which was left behind by his grandmother. He was literally kicked out, left to cry and to sell flowers on the streets the whole night – and it was New Year’s Eve.

At that moment, he learnt one of the greatest lessons in his life. even if his family members could hurt him, one can only rely on himself.

Today, Huang NaiHui is a much sought after speaker, having spoken up to 1000 rounds of talk. He has become an inspiration not only for the handicap but also to normal people in hardship.

His book “Facing The Sun” and his story has created a reverberation in the Taiwanese society.

He now owns 3 flower shops and employs able-bodied people to work for him. He would spend his spare time doing charity work. A man who needs the society to help instead is helping many able-bodied people and the society in general.

Taken from this LINK.

Thursday, May 28, 2009


When I look at a patch of dandelions, I see a bunch of weeds that are going to take over my yard. My kids see flowers for Mom and blowing white fluff you can wish on.

When I look at an old drunk and he smiles at me, I see a smelly, dirty person who probably wants money and I look away. My kids see someone smiling at them and they smile back.

When I hear music I love, I know I can’t carry a tune and don’t have much rhythm so I sit self-consciously and listen. My kids feel the beat and move to it. They sing out the words. If they don’t know them, they make up their own.

When I feel wind on my face, I brace myself against it. I feel it messing up my hair and pulling me back when I walk. My kids close their eyes, spread their arms and fly with it, until they fall to the ground laughing.

When I pray I say thee and thou and grant me this, give me that. My kids say, "Hi God!!! Please keep the bad dreams away tonight. I would miss my Mommy and Daddy."

When I see a mud puddle I step around it. I see muddy shoes and clothes, and dirty carpets. My kids sit in it. They see dams to build, rivers to cross and worms to play with.

I wonder if we are given kids to teach, or to learn from?

-Author Unknown-

Wednesday, May 27, 2009


Once upon a time the colors of the world started to quarrel.
All claimed that they were the best.
The most important.
The most useful.
The favorite.

Green said:
"Clearly I am the most important. I am the sign of life and of hope. I was chosen for grass, trees and leaves. Without me, all animals would die. Look over the countryside and you will see that I am in the majority."

Blue interrupted:
"You only think about the earth, but consider the sky and the sea. It is the water that is the basis of life and drawn up by the clouds from the deep sea. The sky gives space and peace and serenity. Without my peace, you would all be nothing."

Yellow chuckled:
"You are all so serious. I bring laughter, gaiety, and warmth into the world. The sun is yellow, the moon is yellow, the stars are yellow. Every time you look at a sunflower, the whole world starts to smile. Without me there would be no fun."

Orange started next to blow her trumpet:
"I am the color of health and strength. I may be scarce, but I am precious for I serve the needs of human life. I carry the most important vitamins. Think of carrots, pumpkins, oranges, mangoes, and papayas. I don't hang around all the time, but when I fill the sky at sunrise or sunset, my beauty is so striking that no one gives another thought to any of you."

Red could stand it no longer he shouted out:
"I am the ruler of all of you. I am blood - life's blood! I am the color of danger and of bravery. I am willing to fight for a cause. I bring fire into the blood. Without me, the earth would be as empty as the moon. I am the color of passion and of love, the red rose, the poinsettia and the poppy."

Purple rose up to his full height:
He was very tall and spoke with great pomp: "I am the color of royalty and power. Kings, chiefs, and bishops have always chosen me for I am the sign of authority and wisdom. People do not question me! They listen and obey."

Finally Indigo spoke, much more quietly than all the others, but with just as much determination: "Think of me. I am the color of silence. You hardly notice me, but without me you all become superficial. I represent thought and reflection, twilight and deep water. You need me for balance and contrast, for prayer and inner peace."

And so the colors went on boasting, each convinced of his or her own superiority. Their quarreling became louder and louder. Suddenly there was a startling flash of bright lightening thunder rolled and boomed. Rain started to pour down relentlessly. The colors crouched down in fear, drawing close to one another for comfort.

In the midst of the clamor, rain began to speak:
"You foolish colors, fighting amongst yourselves, each trying to dominate the rest. Don't you know that you were each made for a special purpose, unique and different? Join hands with one another and come to me."

Doing as they were told, the colors united and joined hands.

The rain continued:
"From now on, when it rains, each of you will stretch across the sky in a great bow of color as a reminder that you can all live in peace. The Rainbow is a sign of hope for tomorrow." And so, whenever a good rain washes the world, and a Rainbow appears in the sky, let us remember to appreciate one another.

-Author and Source Unknown-


A man was sleeping at night in his cabin when suddenly his room filled with light, and God appeared. The Lord told the man He had work for him to do and showed him a large rock in front of his cabin. The Lord explained that the man was to push against the rock with all his might. So, this the man did, day after day. For many years, he toiled from sun up to sun down with his shoulders set squarely against the cold, massive surface of the unmoving rock, pushing with all of his might.

Each night, the man returned to his cabin sore and worn out, feeling that his whole day had been spent in vain. Since the man was showing discouragement, Satan decided to enter the picture by placing thoughts into the weary mind: "You have been pushing against that rock for a long time, and it hasn't moved." giving the man the impression that the task was impossible and that he was a failure. These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man. "Why kill myself over this?" he thought. "I'll just put in my time, giving just the minimum effort, and that will be good enough."

And that is what he planned to do. However, one day he decided to make it a matter of prayer and take his troubled thoughts to the Lord. "Lord," he said, "I have labored long and hard in your service, putting all my strength to do that which you have asked. Yet, after all this time, have not even budged that rock by half a millimeter. What is wrong? Why am I failing?"

The Lord responded compassionately, "My friend, when I asked you to serve Me and you accepted, I told you that your task was to push against the rock with all of your strength, which you have done. Never once did I mention to you that I expected you to move it. Your task was to push. And now, you come to Me with your strength spent, thinking that you have failed. But, is that really so? Look at yourself. Your arms are strong and muscled, your back sinewy and brown, your hands are callused from constant pressure, and your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposition, you have grown much, and your abilities now surpass that which you used to have. Yet you haven't moved the rock. But your calling was to be obedient and to push and to exercise your faith and trust in My wisdom. This you have done. Now I, My friend, will move the rock."

At times, when we hear a word from God, we tend to use our own intellect to decipher what He wants, when actually what God wants is just a simple obedience and faith in Him. By all means, exercise the faith that moves mountains, but know that it is still God who moves mountains.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009


A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery. Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news. That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency Cesarean to deliver couple's new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing.

At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs. "I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could. "There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one" Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana would likely face if she survived. She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.

"No! No!" was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away. But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana. Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially 'raw', the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love.

All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl. There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there.

At last, when Dana turned two months old. her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later, though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.

Five years later, when Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She showed no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she was everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far from the end of her story.

One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing.

As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell that?"

Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain." Dana closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"

Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like rain." Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."

Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other children. Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along. During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.

Taken from this LINK.

Monday, May 25, 2009


A wealthy man decided to go on a safari in Africa. He took his faithful pet dog along for company. One day, the dog starts chasing butterflies, and before long, he discovers that he is lost. Wandering about, he notices a leopard heading rapidly in his direction with the obvious intention of having lunch.

The dog thinks, "Boy, I'm in deep doo doo now."

Then, he noticed some bones on the ground close by and immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat.

Just as the leopard is about to leap, the dog exclaims loudly, "Man, that was one delicious leopard. I wonder if there are any more around here?" Hearing this, the leopard halts his attack in mid stride, as a look of terror comes over him, and slinks away into the trees.

"Whew," says the leopard, "That was close. That dog nearly had me."

Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the leopard.

So, off he goes. But the dog saw him heading after the leopard with great speed and figured that something must be up. The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans, and strikes a deal for himself with the leopard.

The leopard is furious at being made a fool and says, "Here monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine."

Now the dog sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thinks, "What am I going to do now?"

But instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hasn't seen them yet.

Just when they get close enough to hear, the dog says, "Where's that monkey? I just can never trust him. I sent him off half an hour ago to bring me another leopard, and he's still not back!"

- Author Unknown -

Sunday, May 24, 2009


It had been a very long night. Our black Cocker Spaniel, Precious, was having a difficult delivery. I lied on the floor beside her large four-foot square cage watching her every movement - watching and waiting, just in case I had to rush her to the veterinarian.

After six hours, the puppies started to appear. The firstborn was black and white. The second and third puppies were tan and brown in color. The fourth and fifth were also spotted black and white. "One, two, three, four, five," I counted to myself. I walked down the hallway to wake my wife, Judy, and tell her that everything was fine. As we walked back down the hallway and into the spare bedroom, I noticed a sixth puppy had been born but was lying all by itself over to the side of the cage. I picked it up and laid it on top of the large pile of puppies, which were whining and trying to nurse on the mother. Precious immediately pushed the small puppy away from rest of the group. She refused to recognize it as a member of her family.

"Something's wrong," said Judy.

I reached over and picked up the puppy. My heart sank inside my chest when I saw it had a cleft lip and palate and could not close its little mouth. I decided right then and there that if there was any way to save this animal, I was going to give it my best shot.

I took the puppy to the vet and was told nothing could be done, unless we were willing to spend about $1,000 to try to correct the defect. He told us that the puppy would die mainly because it could not suckle. After returning home, Judy and I decided that we could not afford to spend that kind of money. We at least needed to get some type of assurance from the vet that the puppy had a chance to live. However, that did not stop me from purchasing a syringe and feeding the puppy by hand. I did that every day and night, every two hours for more than 10 days. The little puppy survived and learned to eat on his own, as long as it was soft, canned food.

The fifth week, I placed an ad in the newspaper, and within a week, we had people interested in all of the pups, except the one with the deformity. Late one afternoon, I went to the store to pick up a few groceries. Upon returning, I happened to see the old retired schoolteacher, who lived across the street from us, waving at me. She had read in the paper that we had puppies and wondered if she might get one for her grandson and his family. I told her all the puppies had found homes but I would keep my eyes open for anyone else who might have an available Cocker Spaniel. I also mentioned that if anyone should change his or her mind, I would let her know. Within days, new families had picked up all but one of the puppies. I was left with one brown and tan pup as well as the smaller puppy with the cleft lip and palate.

Two days passed without me hearing anything from the gentleman who had been promised the tan and brown pup. I called the schoolteacher and told her I had one puppy left and that she was welcome to come and look at it. She advised me that she was going to pick up her grandson and would come over at about 8 o'clock that evening.

That night at around 7:30 p.m., Judy and I were eating supper when we heard a knock on the front door. When I opened the door, the man who had wanted the tan and brown pup was standing there. We walked inside, took care of the adoption details, and I handed him the puppy. Judy and I did not know what we would do or say when the teacher showed up with her grandson. At exactly 8 p.m., the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there was the schoolteacher with her grandson standing behind her. I explained to her the man had come for the puppy after all and there were no puppies left. "I'm sorry, Jeffery. They found homes for all the puppies," she told her grandson.

Just at that moment, the small puppy left in the bedroom began to yelp.

"My puppy! My puppy!" yelled the little boy as he ran out from behind his grandmother.

I just about fell over as I noticed that small child also had a cleft lip and palate. The boy ran past me as fast as he could, down the hallway to where the puppy was still yelping. When the three of us made it to the bedroom, the small boy was holding the puppy in his arms. He looked up at his grandmother and said, "Look, grandma! They found homes for all the puppies except the pretty one, and he looks just like me.”

The schoolteacher turned to us and asked, "Is this the puppy that’s available?"

“Yes,” I answered. “That puppy is available.”

The little boy, who was now hugging the puppy chimed in, "My grandma told me these kinds of puppies are very expensive and that I have to take really good care of it."

The lady opened her purse, but I reached over and pushed her hand back down into her purse so she could not pull her wallet out. "How much do you think this puppy is worth?" I asked the boy. "About $1?"

"No. This puppy is very, very expensive," he replied.

"More than $1?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so," said his grandmother.

The boy stood there pressing the small puppy against his cheek. "We could not possibly take less than $2 for this puppy," Judy said squeezing my hand. "Like you said, it's the pretty one."

The schoolteacher took out $2 and handed it to the young boy.

"It's your dog now, Jeffery. You pay the man."

Still holding the puppy tightly, the boy proudly handed me the money. Any worries I’d had about the puppy’s future were gone.

The image of the little boy and his matching pup stays with me still. I think it must be a wonderful feeling for any young person to look in the mirror and see nothing except "the pretty one."


Saturday, May 23, 2009


At an airport, I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her plane's departure and standing near the door, he said to his daughter, "I love you, I wish you enough."

She said, "Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy." They kissed good-bye, and she left. He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there, I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?"

"Yes, I have," I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me. So I knew what this man was experiencing.

"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?" I asked.

"I am old, and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead, and the reality is her next trip back will be for my funeral," he said.

"When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?"

He began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." He paused for a moment, and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more.

"When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with enough good things to sustain them," he continued, and then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.

"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough 'Hello's' to get you through the final 'Good-bye.'"

He then began to sob and walked away.

Friday, May 22, 2009


There was once a spider who lived in a cornfield. She was a big spider, and she had spun a beautiful web between the corn stalks. She got fat eating all the bugs that would get caught in her web. She liked this home and planned to stay there for the rest of her life. One day, the spider caught a little bug in her web, and just as the spider was about to eat him, the bug said, "If you let me go I will tell you something important that will save your life." The spider paused for a moment and listened because she was amused. "You better get out of this cornfield," the little bug said, "The harvest is coming!" The spider smiled and said, "What is this harvest you are talking about? I think you are just telling me a story." But the little bug said, "Oh no, it is true. The owner of this field is coming to harvest it soon. All the stalks will be knocked down, and the corn will be gathered up. You will be killed by the giant machines if you stay here."

The spider said, "I don't believe in harvests and giant machines that knock down corn stalks. How can you prove this?" The little bug continued, "Just look at the corn. See how it is planted in rows? It proves this field was created by an intelligent designer." The spider laughed and mockingly said, "This field has evolved and has nothing to do with a creator. Corn always grows that way." The bug went on to explain, "Oh no. This field belongs to the owner who planted it, and the harvest is coming soon." The spider grinned and said to the little bug, "I don't believe you," and then the spider ate the little bug for lunch.

A few days later, the spider was laughing about the story the little bug had told her. She thought to herself, "A harvest! What a silly idea. I have lived here all of my life, and nothing has ever disturbed me. I have been here since these stalks were just a foot off the ground, and I'll be here for the rest of my life, because nothing is ever going to change in this field. Life is good, and I have it made."

The next day was a beautiful sunny day in the cornfield. The sky above was clear, and there was no wind at all. That afternoon, as the spider was about to take a nap, she noticed some thick dusty clouds moving toward her. She could hear the roar of a great engine, and she said to herself, "I wonder what that could be?"

Thursday, May 21, 2009


Once there was a time, according to legend, when Ireland was ruled by a king who had no son. The king sent out his couriers to post notices in all the towns of his realm. The notices advised that every qualified young man should apply for an interview with the king as a possible successor to the throne. However, all such candidates must have these two qualifications: They must (1) love God and (2) love their fellow human beings.

The Young man about whom this legend centers saw a notice and reflected that he loved God and, also, his neighbors. One thing stopped him, he was so poor that he had no clothes that would be presentable in the sight of the king. Nor did he have the funds to buy provisions for the long journey to the castle. So the young man begged here, and borrowed there, finally managing to scrounge enough money for the appropriate clothes and the necessary supplies.

Properly attired and well-suited, the young man set out on his quest, and had almost completed the journey when he came upon a poor beggar by the side of the road. The beggar sat trembling, clad only in tattered rags. His extended arms pleaded for help. His weak voice croaked, "I'm hungry and cold. Please help me... please?"

The young man was so moved by this beggar's need that he immediately stripped off his new clothes and put on the tattered threads of the beggar. Without a second thought he gave the beggar all his provision as well. Then, somewhat hesitantly, he continued his journey to the castle dressed in the rags of the beggar, lacking provisions for his return trek home. Upon his arrival at the castle, a king's attendant showed him in to the great hall. After a brief respite to clean off the journey's grime, he was finally admitted to the throne room of the king.

The young man bowed low before his majesty. When he raised his eyes, he gaped in astonishment. "You... it's you! You're the beggar by the side of the road."

"Yes," the king replied with a twinkle, "I was that beggar."

"But...bu...bu... you are not really a beggar. You are the king for real. Well, then, why did you do this to me?" the young man stammered after gaining more of his composure.

"Because I had to find out if you genuinely love God and your fellow human beings," said the king. "I knew that if I came to you as king, you would have been impressed by my gem-encrusted golden crown and my royal robes. You would have done anything I asked of you because of my regal character. But that way I would never have known what is truly in your heart. So I used a ruse. I came to you as a beggar with no claims on you except for the love in your hear. And I discovered that you sincerely do love God and your fellow human beings. You will be my successor," promised the king. "You will inherit my kingdom."


Tuesday, May 19, 2009


A Native American and his friend were in downtown New York City, walking near Times Square in Manhattan. It was during the noon lunch hour and the streets were filled with people. Cars were honking their horns, taxicabs were squealing around corners, sirens were wailing, and the sounds of the city were almost deafening. Suddenly, the Native American said, "I hear a cricket."

His friend said, "What? You must be crazy. You couldn't possibly hear a cricket in all of this noise!"

"No, I'm sure of it," the Native American said, "I heard a cricket."

"That's crazy," said the friend. The Native American listened carefully for a moment, and then walked across the street to a big cement planter where some shrubs were growing. He looked into the bushes, beneath the branches, and sure enough, he located a small cricket. His friend was utterly amazed.

"That's incredible," said his friend. "You must have superhuman ears!"

"No," said the Native American. "My ears are no different from yours. It all depends on what you're listening for."

"But that can't be!" said the friend. "I could never hear a cricket in this noise."

"Yes, it's true," came the reply. "It depends on what is really important to you. Here, let me show you." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and discreetly dropped them on the sidewalk.

And then, even with the noise of the crowded street still blaring in their ears, they noticed every head within twenty feet turn and look to see if the money that tinkled on the pavement was theirs.

"See what I mean?" asked the Native American. "It all depends on what's important to you."

What's important to you? What do you listen for?

If you are in tune with the Great Spirit, you will be able to hear when It speaks.

--- Author Unknown ---

Monday, May 18, 2009


There was once a young ballerina who had taken ballet lesson all through her childhood. She wanted to be a prima ballet dancer but she wanted to be sure that she had the talent. When a ballet company came to town, she went backstage after the performance and spoke to the ballet master.

“I want to be a great ballet dancer but I don’t know if I had the talent” she said.

“Dance for me” the master said. After a minute or two, he shook his head and said “No, no, no, you don’t have what it takes to be a great ballerina.”

The young woman went home heartbroken. She tossed the ballet slippers into the closet and never wore them again. Instead she got married, had children. when the kids are old enough, she took a part time job manning a cash register at a corner shop.

Years later, the same ballet company came into town. She attended it and on the way out, she ran into the same old ballet master who was then in his eighties. She reminded him that they had spoken before. She showed him photos of her children and told him about the corner shop job that she is doing now. And then she asked “There is just one thing that really bothered me. How could you tell me that I don have what it takes to be a great ballerina?”

“Oh, I barely look at you when you danced, that’s what I told all of them who came to me” he said.

“But…but, that’s unforgivable! You have ruined my life, I could have been a great ballet dancer!” she cried.

-Author Unknown-

So whose fault was it? The old ballet master or the budding ballerina or both of them?

Please leave a comment..I would love to hear your views. Thanks.

Thursday, May 14, 2009


This story, God Has Been Good to Me, is a heart warming story. I guess we never view life in such a way. We all complain when life seems unfair to us. We have never taken into account how much we are blessed. Well, God has been good to me.

For 25 years, I watched him fight cancer of the face.

First just a small speck that begin to grow larger. Year after year I watch him go to hospital to have a bit cut out each time. As the years went by, more and more of his face was cut away. When he returned with what is left of his face, he tried to smile. He never complained or was downhearted.

He was a skilful mechanic and carpenter. In fact, he was one of the best. Whenever he did a job, he stand back to see if there is anything left out that could be added to make it perfect. Then he would see some little place that the average person would pass up. He would then touch up this or that.

I suspect he said this to himself “My work will be my face and my life” I doubt if he often look in the mirror at that damaged face where the cancer eat into everyday. No matter how humble the pace he worked in, how small the job is or how crude the other workers seem, it never bother him at all. This was his work and it has to be done right. He never glance at the work of others; a shoddy work done by others was not his concern. Nevertheless, I suspect when the job was done, he had a sense of inner pride and joy when he saw how outstanding it was. But he never boasted about it.

As the years went by, he became weaker and weaker. His hands did not move with confidence and speed that so characterized him. He was unable to do many things. However no matter what the work or pay, he always had the insatiable desire to do a good job.

The help he got was not able to catch his vision. They thought he was cranky to try so hard to complete each and every detail. So he worked alone. He did not complain or bitterly rail at the others. He would just appear the next morning by himself with no explanation of the absence of his helpers.

During the latter day, he had only the shambles of a face. He would wrap it up in a red bandana handkerchief, leaving only his eyes showing.

When you met him on the streets, he would always give a cheery greeting. As time went on, it was more and more difficult to say he words. Often he would move his walking stick. This stick, too, was a thing of beauty, carved out by his skilful hands.

His life seemed to be filled with contentment and peace. I suspect that he thanked God for those hands and the fact that it was not marred in any way.

He would often be missed about his usual haunts for weeks or months. He would make his journey to the hospital for the surgeon to cut away more of his face. Then you would see him again, a bit more gruesome. There would be no complain, no telling of his operation and pain. He would just quietly go to work that was awaiting for him.

In all his time, I never knew him to come back with any complaints about the pain. You would think there was nothing the matter if you did not see his face. When the days of his labors seem to becoming to an end, his chief concern was that his tools might be in good hands. He sent for me one day and told me he wished someone would appreciate the tools and use them properly.

When I took a young man to see him about the tools, there came a look of contentment and satisfaction. His work was finished and he was ready to cash in.

A few days before he died he was walking in the yard. His face was nearly completely covered with bandages. Only his eyes were uncovered. As he hobbled about the yard, he said “I am going to keep young just as long as I can”

The day he died, I went to see him again. The odor was so offensive you could hardly stay there. What was left of his face was a mass of scars and there was really nothing to cut away. You could tell he was in great pain and had many sleepless nights. But still there were no words of complaints.

I shall never forget his last words. Ever afterwards they have made me ashamed whenever I feel inclined to complain. Still day after day, they are vivid in my mind.

The words are “God has been good to me. I had never had any reason to complain”

"God has been good to me..."

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


A man came out of his home to admire his new truck. To his puzzlement, his three-year-old son was happily hammering dents into the shiny paint.

The man ran to his son, knocked him away, hammered the little boy's hands into pulp as punishment.

When the father calmed down, he rushed his son to the hospital. Although the doctor tried desperately to save the crushed bones, he finally had to amputate the fingers from both the boy's hands.

When the boy woke up from the surgery & saw his bandaged stubs, he innocently said, " Daddy, I'm sorry about your truck." Then he asked, "but when are my fingers going to grow back?"

The father went home & committed suicide.

Think about the story the next time u see someone spill milk at a dinner table or hear a baby crying. Think first before u lose your patience with someone u love.

Trucks can be repaired. Broken bones & hurt feelings often can't.

Too often we fail to recognize the difference between the person and the performance.

People make mistakes. We are allowed to make mistakes. But the actions we take while in a rage will haunt us forever.

Pause and ponder. Think before you act. Be patient. Understand & love.

Source: Unknown

Tuesday, May 12, 2009


Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

He shares some stories:

Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had a different color hair than the other family members. One child suggested that he was adopted. A little girl said, "I know all about adoptions because I was adopted." "What does it mean to be adopted?" asked another child. "It means," said the girl, "that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy."

A four year old was at the pediatrician for a check up. As the doctor looked down her ears with an otoscope, he asked, "Do you think I'll find Big Bird in here?" The little girl stayed silent. Next, the doctor took a tongue depressor and looked down her throat. He asked, "Do you think I'll find the Cookie Monster down there?" Again, the little girl was silent. Then the doctor put a stethoscope to her chest. As he listened to her heart beat, he asked, "Do you think I'll hear Barney in there?" "Oh, no!" the little girl replied. "God is in my heart. Barney's on my underpants."

As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was. "We're behind 14 to nothing," he answered with a smile. "Really," I said. "I have to say you don't look very discouraged." "Discouraged?" the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face. "Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet."

Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott. Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen. On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. "Guess what Mom," he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me: "I've been chosen to clap and cheer."

An Eye Witness Account from New York City on a cold day in December some years ago: A little boy of about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window and shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?" "I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boy's reply. The lady took him by the hand and went into the store and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel. By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes. She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?" As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand and looking up in her face, with tears in his eyes, answered the question with these words: "Are you God's Wife?"

Monday, May 11, 2009


Years ago, in a small fishing village in Holland, a young boy taught the world about the rewards of unselfish service. Because the entire village revolved around the fishing industry, a volunteer rescue team was needed in cases of emergency. One night the winds raged, the clouds burst and a gale force storm capsized a fishing boat at sea. Stranded and in trouble, the crew sent out the S.O.S. The captain of the rescue rowboat team sounded the alarm and the villagers assembled in the town square overlooking the bay. While the team launched their rowboat and fought their way through the wild waves, the villagers waited restlessly on the beach, holding lanterns to light the way back.

An hour later, the rescue boat reappeared through the fog and the cheering villagers ran to greet them. Falling exhausted on the sand, the volunteers reported that the rescue boat could not hold any more passengers and they had to leave one man behind. Even one more passenger would have surely capsized the rescue boat and all would have been lost.

Frantically, the captain called for another volunteer team to go after the lone survivor. Sixteen-year-old Hans stepped forward. His mother grabbed his arm, pleading, "Please don’t go. Your father died in a shipwreck 10 years ago and your older brother, Paul, has been lost at sea for three weeks. Hans, you are all I have left."

Hans replied, "Mother, I have to go. What if everyone said, ‘I can’t go, let someone else do it?’ Mother, this time I have to do my duty. When the call for service comes, we all need to take our turn and do our part." Hans kissed his mother, joined the team and disappeared into the night.

Another hour passed, which seemed to Hans’ mother like an eternity. Finally, the rescue boat darted through the fog with Hans standing up in the bow. Cupping his hands, the captain called, "Did you find the lost man?" Barely able to contain himself, Hans excitedly yelled back, "Yes, we found him. Tell my mother it’s my older brother, Paul!"


Sunday, May 10, 2009


In memory of my own dear mother who passed away on February 6th of the year 1972. She is still deeply missed.

In tears we saw you sinking,
And watched you pass away.
Our hearts were almost broken,
We wanted you to stay.
But when we saw you sleeping,
So peaceful, free from pain,
How could we wish you back with us,
To suffer that again.
It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you did not go alone,
For part of us went with you,
The day God took you home.

If Roses grow in Heaven,
Lord please pick a bunch for me,
Place them in my Mother's arms
and tell her they're from me.
Tell her I love her and miss her,
and when she turns to smile,
place a kiss upon her cheek
and hold her for awhile.
Because remembering her is easy,
I do it every day,
but there's an ache within my heart
that will never go away.

Don't think of her as gone away
Her journey's just begun
Life holds so many facets
This earth is only one
Just think of her as resting
From the sorrows and the tears
In a place of warmth and comfort
Where there are no days and years
Think how she must be wishing
That we could know, today
Now nothing but our sadness
Can really pass away
And think of her as living
In the hearts of those she touched
For nothing loved is ever lost
And she is loved so very much.



In conjunction with Mother's Day, there will be many posts today over here and in my other blog at Masterwordsmith@Writers.Inc. to honor mothers, grandmothers, soon-to-be-mothers and those who want/waiting to be mothers...

1. An Original One - Happy Mother's Day - featuring Eddie's original composition.

2. A Tribute to Mothers for Mother's Day

3. A Mother Like No Other

4. The Invisible Mom

5. In Celebration of Mothers

and also earlier posts in this blog.


Here's a post specially for all my blog readers and friends who are mothers...HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!

Becuase You Loved Me ( Dedicated to My Mom ) - The funniest videos are a click away


In conjunction with Mother's Day, there will be many posts today over here and in my other blog at masterwordsmith-unplugged including:

1. An Original One - Happy Mother's Day - featuring Eddie's original composition.

2. A Tribute to Mothers for Mother's Day

3. A Mother Like No Other

4. The Invisible Mom

5. In Celebration of Mothers

and also earlier posts in this blog.


A man stopped at a flower shop to order some flowers to be wired to his mother who lived two hundred miles away.

As he got out of his car he noticed a young girl sitting on the curb sobbing.

He asked her what was wrong and she replied, "I wanted to buy a red rose for my mother.

But I only have seventy-five cents, and a rose costs two dollars."

The man smiled and said, "Come on in with me. I'll buy you a rose."

He bought the little girl her rose and ordered his own mother's flowers.

As they were leaving he offered the girl a ride home.

She said, "Yes, please! You can take me to my mother."

She directed him to a cemetery, where she placed the rose on a freshly dug grave.

The man returned to the flower shop, canceled the wire order, picked up a bouquet and drove the two hundred miles to his mother's house.


In conjunction with Mother's Day, there will be many posts today to honor mothers, grandmothers, soon-to-be-mothers and those who want/waiting to be mothers in this blog and also at my other blog masterwordsmith-unplugged...Don't miss the earlier posts here and there including:

1. An Original One - Happy Mother's Day - featuring Eddie's original composition.

2. A Tribute to Mothers for Mother's Day

3. A Mother Like No Other

Have a good day!

God bless you and yours always!


HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOTHERS & MOTHERS-TO-BE....This post is specially for you in recognition of all that you have done, are doing and will do for your family..

God bless you!

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask me a question.

Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’ Obviously, not.

No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ..

Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you this.’

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription:

‘To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, afterwhich I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.

These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.’ And the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.

It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.’

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see
finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Great Job, MOM!

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know…I just did.

Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough as it sometimes does. We never know what our finished products will turn out to be because of our perseverance.

Saturday, May 9, 2009


In life, a lesson learned in your past that you will never forget completely.

When I was in elementary school, I got into a major argument with a boy in my class. I have forgotten what the argument was about, but I have never forgotten the lesson learned that day.

I was convinced that "I" was right and "he" was wrong - and he was just as convinced that "I" was wrong and "he" was right. The teacher decided to teach us a very important lesson. She brought us up to the front of the class and placed him on one side of her desk and me on the other.

In the middle of her desk was a large, round object. I could clearly see that it was black. She asked the boy what color the object was. "White," he answered.

I couldn’t believe he said the object was white, when it was obviously black! Another argument started between my classmate and me, this time about the color of the object.

The teacher told me to go stand where the boy was standing and told him to come stand where I had been. We changed places, and now she asked me what the color of the object was. I had to answer, "White." It was an object with two differently colored sides, and from his viewpoint it was white. Only from my side was it black.

My teacher taught me a very important lesson learned that day: You must stand in the other person’s shoes and look at the situation through their eyes in order to truly understand their perspective.

Friday, May 8, 2009


When Socrates reached his 50s, he went into marriage and took a wife, Xanthippe. She was known to be very hot tempered and nag. He was no ideal husband. He would leave home every morning without fail and return home sometimes quite late. At the end of every month, there was not any pay check.

Story had it that once he was discussing ideas and thoughts in his house with his friends. They were discussing non stop the whole day until his wife, Xanthippe was so fed up and scolded them. She even chases them out of the house. Once outside the house, they continue discussing until the middle of the night. Xanthippe finally could not take it. She took a pail of water and poured it unto them.

The philosopher, soaking wet said “You know my friend, after the thunder, there will always come the rain.”

Many people rush into relationships and into marriage for many reasons. One of the reasons is loneliness. Loneliness can occur even if you have a partner. There are many people who have many friends but are still lonely inside. Do not go into marriage unless you are very sure.

Even if you are married, the philosopher has one word for you.

By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.


Wednesday, May 6, 2009


The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box.

"Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, Mommy, please?" Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face. "A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00. If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."

As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents.

On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere - Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?" "Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you." "Then give me your pearls." "Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess - the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite." "That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?" "Daddy, you know I love you." "Then give me your pearls." "Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my baby doll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper." "That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you" And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.

A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek. "What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?" Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."

With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny. He had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.

So it is with God. He is waiting for us to give up the cheap things in our lives so that he can give us beautiful treasure. Isn't God good?

Are you holding onto things which God wants you to let go of. Are you holding on to harmful or unnecessary partners, relationships, habits and activities which you have come so attached to that it seems impossible to let go? Sometimes it is so hard to see what is in the other hand but do believe this one thing.............

God will never take away something without giving you something better in ....

-Author Unknown-