Monday, November 30, 2009


Atira was watching the TV show 20/20 in her living room in Seattle. The show was about a Nun, in Egypt, that was dedicating her retirement years to the garbage-dump-city in CAIRO.

Atira has an Egyptian import business. When she saw the show of the Nun and her works for the poor and homeless at the garbage dump city, Atira knew she had to help. Atira ordered the transcript from the TV show and set out to see what she could do to help.

Atira asked everyone coming to a baby shower, at her home, to bring a wash cloth and soap. They thought she was nuts, until she told them why.

She called her Dentist and Doctor's offices and asked what kind of medicines would be needed to help out in a poverty area.

She collected toothbrushes, bandages, etc....until she had suitcases full of things to take to Cairo with her. Her goal was to do her part to help.

Atira was going with a group on her next trip to Egypt so she asked some of the other members in the tour group to help by bringing used children's clothing , pencils, and children's books with them to be given to this caring Nun Sister E.

Eight other people were kind enough to collect and bring pens, coloring books, clothes, and various toys, to help.

On their arrival in Cairo, not knowing what to do with the mountain of supplies for the Nun. She asked the hotel manager if he could try and locate this healer of the poor, and within days, he had located the Nun. But the Nun was out of the country and would not be back until Atira had returned to Seattle.

The Hotel Manager said he would store the goods and present them to the Sister E for Atira.

But, that is not the miracle part. The miracle is how one person can effect the lives of others, how our intentions lead us to miracles.

The hotel manager shared the story of Atira's kind gesture,with other members of the tour.

As it turned out there were two people, who worked with World Wide Health Care Project for the Poor. They had never heard of Sister E. and her plight to help the poor.

These men stayed in Cairo longer than Atira could, and were there when the goods from Atira were collected by Sister E.

These men ended up talking to Sister E. They were able to get her funding for a Health Care Clinic.

When the hotel manager saw Sister E he realized that she often had come into the hotel to use the phone, and he just did not know who she was.

And now, she has FREE phone privileges in his hotel.

Atira wanted to help in a small way....this story makes my heart smile and I hope it does yours too. Helping in whatever way you can help makes miracles unfold for others.

P.S. Atira still travels to Egypt regularity. She always tries to take something to help Sister E. It was three years before Atira was able to meet Sister E. In person. It was a wonderful meeting with heart felt thanks and a new found friendship. The last time she was there the 66 children needed only $75 extra for vaccinations, and Atira paid for these children. This is one of the finest woman I know. She did get to help in a greater way than she could have ever imagined.

- Author Unknown -

Saturday, November 28, 2009


Don't ever be reluctant to show your feelings when you're happy, give in to it.
When you're not, live with it.

Don't ever be afraid to try to make things better you might be surprised at the results.

Don't ever take the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Don't ever feel threatened by the future take life one day at a time.

Don't ever feel guilty about the past what's done is done. Learn from any mistakes you might have made.

Don't ever feel that you are alone there is always somebody there for you to reach out to.

Don't ever forget that you can achieve so many of the things you can imagine.
It's not as hard as it seems.

Don't ever stop loving don't ever stop believing, don't ever stop dreaming your dreams.

written by Larne Parsons (1983)

Friday, November 27, 2009


Eid al-Adha "Festival of Sacrifice" or "Greater Eid" is a holiday celebrated by Muslims (including the Druze) worldwide to commemorate the willingness of Ibrahim to sacrifice his son as an act of obedience to God. Eid al-Adha is the latter of two Eid festivals celebrated by Muslims, whose basis comes from the Quran. Like Eid al-Fitr, Eid al-Adha begins with a short prayer followed by a sermon (khuá¹­ba).

Eid al-Adha annually falls on the 10th day of the month of Dhul Hijja of the lunar Islamic calendar. The festivities last for three days or more depending on the country. Eid al-Adha occurs the day after the pilgrims conducting Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia by Muslims worldwide, descend from Mount Arafat. It happens to be approximately 70 days after the end of the month of Ramadan.

I would like to wish all Muslim friends and readers, Selamat Hari Raya Eid al-Adha. May the Almighty accept all the sacrifices and good deeds you have made in the past year.

Special wishes to my blogger friends, readers and followers:

*My apologies if I have left out your name - it does not mean you are not important to me but it is due to my forgetfulness :-)

Datin Mamasita and Dato'Sakmongkol
Saudara Nick
Kak Ezza
Kak Teh
Kak Pah
Dr. Tranquility
Nazli Bakht
Wafi Selamat
Arshad Ahmad
and all other followers listed in invisible mode and other Muslim readers who read my blog

If there be any of my Muslim friends and readers who are presently in the Holy Land as the guests of Allah, I pray for your safe return and may you have spiritually meaningful experiences in the Holy Land.

aidiladha greeting Pictures, Images and Photos

Tuesday, November 24, 2009


School break is here again. For a change, I thought I'd put up a post on how we should invest for our children...Enjoy this poem which was sent to me by a friend (author of the poem unknown). Take care and if you have kids or grandkids or a brood of nephews and nieces - enjoy them before they turn into teenagers!!! Have a nice day!



A careful man I ought to be,
A little fellow follows me.
I dare not go astray,
For fear he'll go the self-same way.

I cannot once escape his eyes,
Whatever he see me do, he tries.
Like me, he says, he's going to be,
The little chap who follows me.

He thinks that I am good and fine,
Believes in every word of mine.
The base in me he must not see,
That little fellow who follows me.

I must remember as I go,
Thru summers' sun and winters' snow.
I am building for the years to be,
In the little chap who follows me.

-Author Unknown-

Friday, November 20, 2009


This post is dedicated to all my blog readers and friends who have been with me in this blog. Thank you for showing me the meaning of friendship. You'll always be in my heart.


(A)ccepts you as you are
(B)elieves in "you"
(C)alls you just to say "HI"
(D)oesn't give up on you
(E)nvisions the whole of you (even the unfinished parts)
(F)orgives your mistakes
(G)ives unconditionally
(H)elps you
(I)nvites you over
(J)ust "be" with you
(K)eeps you close at heart
(L)oves you for who you are
(M)akes a difference in your life
(N)ever Judges
(O)ffer support
(P)icks you up
(Q)uiets your fears
(R)aises your spirits
(S)ays nice things about you
(T)ells you the truth when you need to hear it
(U)nderstands you
(V)alues you
(W)alks beside you
(X)-plains thing you don't understand
(Y)ells when you won't listen and
(Z)aps you back to reality


Yesterday, a girlfriend sent me a link to this site featuring a discussion on Love, Survival and Forgiveness with Liz Murray by Ellie Weiser. Those of you with satellite tv subscriptions would probably have watched the movie "Homeless to Harvard" about the life of Liz Murray. The following is an excerpt from the interview.

Liz Murray grew up with two drug-addicted parents who she began supporting at age 10. Homeless at age 15, after the death of her mother, Liz overcame incredible odds to finish high school in just two years while living on the streets. She was subsequently awarded a full scholarship to Harvard. Liz, a Process graduate, recently shared her story with Light News editor Ellie Weiser. To learn more about Liz, please go to To write to her directly, send email to

ELLIE: Liz, having seen the movie "From Homeless to Harvard" based on your life and having met you, I consider you a leader and a true visionary. Nothing in your childhood was in support of your success. Where did you find your strength?

LIZ: Thank you. The answer, in one word, is love. I was deeply loved grow ing up. While my parents were addicted to drugs, and they often chose drugs over their children, I was constantly embraced, endeared, kissed all over the face, told I was precious and that really stuck with me. I was loved not only by my parents but by my Uncle Arthur, who was a surrogate father.

ELLIE: Did you feel their love during your toughest times?

LIZ: When I was homeless, when my parents died, there were moments where I'd be out there and I'd remember the love I grew up with and the love of my friends, who'd become family to me. It felt like nothing was more important I could go without food, I could have nowhere to sleep but I knew somewhere my friends were waiting for me, and their love was very much like the love I had with my parents.

ELLIE: You lacked even the bare necessities, but you had love, and it pulled you through.

LIZ: Sometimes people grow up with a lot of 'stuff' but they don't have the knowledge that their parents are there for them no matter what. What I've found is that neglect is neglect. My parents weren't around because they were getting high. Other people's parents aren't around because they're in a career and their children come second. Neglect is neglect and if you turn that inside out, love is love, and we would be smart not to get too fixated on the circumstances.

ELLIE: As a child a neighbor gave you a set of encyclopedias that she retrieved from the trash. Did that start your love of learning?

LIZ: My neighbor Mary would go through the garbage and bring me hideous sweat ers and things that were so endearing to me. She brought me the encyclopedias, but I was already a reader because of my father, who earlier in his life had been a Ph.D. candidate in psychology at NYU. He had this great life on the outside, then crashed and burned and went to drugs. But his love of knowledge was always strong. He would take me to the library and check out stacks of books that I read, which he never returned. Because my father read them, books helped me feel connected to him, so I became a lover of books, including the encyclopedias from Mary.

ELLIE: When did your parents become addicts?

LIZ: They were addicted before my birth; my mother used drugs when she was pregnant with me. They were into the "scene" in New York City the disco, party loving, cocaine scene. My father sold my mother drugs at a party and they became a couple from there.

To read the rest of the article, PLEASE CLICK THIS LINK. Thanks and have a nice day!


Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven't thought about it, don't have it on their schedule, didn't know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn't suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word 'refrigeration' mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ' Jeopardy ' on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said, 'How about going to lunch in a half hour?' She would gas up and stammer, 'I can't. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain.' And my personal favorite: 'It's Monday.' She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because we cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!

We'll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We'll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet... We'll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of 'I'm going to,' 'I plan on,' and 'Someday, when things are settled down a bit.'

When anyone calls my 'seize the moment' friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you're ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Roller blades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord..

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It's just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-Decker. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.

Now...go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to......not something on your SHOULD DO list. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Make sure you read this to the end; you will understand why I sent this to you.

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butter fly's erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask ' How are you?' Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, 'We'll do it tomorrow.' And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say 'Hi?

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift....Thrown away..... Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over.

Show your friends how much you care. Send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND.

To those I have sent this to... I cherish our friendship and appreciate all you do.

'Life may not be the party we hoped for.. but while we are here we might as well dance!

Thursday, November 19, 2009


Take a look at an apple tree. There might be five hundred apples on the tree, each with ten seeds. That's a lot of seeds. We might ask, "Why would you need so many seeds to grow just a few more trees?" Nature has something to teach us here. It's telling us: "Most seeds never grow. So if you really want to make something happen, you had better try more than once.

This might mean :

You'll attend twenty interviews to get one job.
You'll interview forty people to find one good employee.
You'll talk to fifty people to sell one house, car, vacuum cleaner, insurance policy, or idea.
And you might meet a hundred acquaintances to find one special friend.

When we understand the "Law of the Seed", we don't get so disappointed. We stop feeling like victims. Laws of nature are not things to take personally. We just need to understand them - and work with them.


Successful people fail more often. They plant more seeds.
When Things Are Beyond Your Control, Here's a recipe for permanent misery:

a) Decide how you think the world SHOULD be.
b) Make rules for how everyone SHOULD behave.

Then, when the world doesn't obey your rules, let angry!
That's what miserable people do!

Let's say you expect that:

Friends SHOULD return favours.
People SHOULD appreciate you.
Planes SHOULD arrive on time.
Everyone SHOULD be honest.
Your husband/wife SHOULD remember your birthday.

These expectations may sound reasonable. But often, these things won't happen! So you end up frustrated and disappointed. There's a better strategy. Have fewer demands.

Instead, have preferences! For things that are beyond your control, tell yourself:

"I WOULD PREFER "A", BUT IF "B" HAPPENS, IT'S OK TOO!" This is really a game that you play in your head.

It is a shift in attitude, and it gives you more peace of mind.

You prefer that people are polite ... but when they are rude, it doesn't ruin your day. You prefer sunshine ... but rain is ok!

To become happier, we either need to

a) change the world, or
b) change our thinking.

It is easier to change our thinking!


It's not what happens to you that determine your happiness.
It's how you think about what happens to you . .

Thanks to my dearest friend Angela who sent this piece to me via e-mail....pass it on...

Wednesday, November 18, 2009


The woman in your life...The power of a "She"in our lives is well brought out in this article.

Tomorrow you may get a working woman, but you should marry her with these facts as well.

Here is a girl, who is as much educated as you are;
Who is earning almost as much as you do;

One, who has dreams and aspirations just as
you have because she is as human as you are;

One, who has never entered the kitchen in her life just like you or your Sister haven't, as she was busy in studies and competing in a system that gives no special concession to girls for their culinary achievements

One, who has lived and loved her parents & brothers & sisters, almost as much as you do for 20-25 years of her life;

One, who has bravely agreed to leave behind all that, her home, people who love her, to adopt your home, your family, your ways and even your family name.

One, who is somehow expected to be a master-chef from day #1, while you sleep oblivious to her predicament in her new circumstances, environment and that kitchen

One, who is expected to make the tea, first thing in the morning and cook food at the end of the day, even if she is as tired as you are, maybe more and yet never ever expected to complain; to be a servant, a cook, a mother,
a wife, even if she doesn't want to; and is learning just like you are as to what you want from her; and is clumsy and sloppy at times and knows that you won't like it if she is too demanding, or if she learns faster than you.

One, who has her own set of friends, and that includes boys and even men at her workplace too, those, who she knows from school days and yet is willing to put all that on the back-burners to avoid your irrational jealousy, unnecessary competition and your inherent insecurities.

Yes, she can drink and dance just as well as you can, but won't, simply because you won't like it, even though you say otherwise.
One, who can be late from work once in a while when deadlines, just like yours, are to be met.

One, who is doing her level best and wants to make this most important relationship in her entire life a grand success, if you just help her some and trust her;

One, who just wants one thing from you, as you are the only one she knows in your entire house - your unstinted support, your sensitivities and most importantly - your understanding, or love, if you may call it.

But not many guys understand this......

Please appreciate "HER"

I hope you will do....

Sunday, November 15, 2009


Georgia, a friend of my wife's, was recently divorced and trying to raise her two sons when the Gulf War broke out. She heard about soldiers in the service who had no family and needed pen pals. Letters addressed to "Any Soldier" were distributed by commanding officers who noticed any soldiers getting little or no mail. Georgia wrote to 25 such soldiers almost daily, most of them men.

Keeping up with 25 pen pals on a daily basis almost consumed Georgia's time and talents. She sent poems, little stories, and words of hope and encouragement. When there were time constraints, she would write one letter and copy it for everyone. Greetings were sent whenever she knew about a special event, like a birthday.

One day, Georgia received a letter from a soldier that was depressed and discouraged. She pondered as to how she could help lift his spirits. It was then that she noticed that at work there were paper clips of various colors. Georgia took one of the yellow paper clips and photo copied it in the palm of her hand. She sent this picture with the paper clip with the following message: "This yellow paper clip that you see in my hand represents a hug that I am sending to you. You can carry this paper clip in a pocket or anywhere, and whenever you feel down, you can just touch and hold it and know that somebody cares about you, and would give you a hug if she were there." Georgia sent a copy of this picture along with a paper clip and the message to each of her other correspondents. After the war ended, Georgia received one of the pictures of her hand holding the yellow paper clip, and on the back were over 150 signatures of people that had been given her "hug."

During the years, Georgia named other paper clips. Pink came to mean a kiss, green was for good luck, and so on. Years later, Georgia was giving a class as part of a seminar for positive thinking. She shared with the members of the class her paper clip symbolism, and made a bracelet of multicolored paper clips for each of them. One of the women exclaimed, "So you're the one!" The class member told Georgia that she was visiting her brother and needed something to hold papers together. She had noticed a yellow paper clip on the refrigerator held there with a magnet. She borrowed the paper clip for her papers. When the brother saw it, he grabbed it and scolded her, and told her never to touch the yellow paper clip again. Now she knew why.

No one will never know how far her message has spread, nor how many lives have been touched by a simple yellow paper clip.

-Author Unknown-

Saturday, November 14, 2009


There was a man who had a little boy that he loved very much. Everyday after work the man would come home and play with the little boy. He would always spend all of his extra time playing with the little boy.

One night, while the man was at work, he realized that he had extra work to do for the evening, and that he wouldn't be able to play with his little boy. But, he wanted to be able to give the boy something to keep him busy. So, looking around his office, he saw a magazine with a large map of the world on the cover. He got an idea. He removed the map, and then patiently tore it up into small pieces. Then he put all the pieces in his coat pocket.

When he got home, the little boy came running to him and was ready to play. The man explained that he had extra work to do and couldn't play just now, but he led the little boy into the dining room, and taking out all the pieces of the map, he spread them on the table. He explained that it was a map of the world, and that by the time he could put it back together, his extra work would be finished, and they could both play. Surely this would keep the child busy for hours, he thought.

About half an hour later the boy came to the man and said, "Okay, it's finished. Can we play now?"

The man was surprised, saying, "That's impossible. Let's go see." And sure enough, there was the picture of the world, all put together, every piece in its place.

The man said, "That's amazing! How did you do that?" The boy said, "It was simple. On the back of the page was a picture of a man. When I put the man together the whole world fell into place."

-Author Unknown-

Friday, November 13, 2009


There once was a little boy who wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies and a six-pack of root beer, and he started on his journey. When he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman. She was sitting in the park, staring at some pigeons. The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase.

He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie. She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him.

Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered her a root beer. Once again, she smiled at him. The boy was delighted. They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, yet they never said a word.

As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave. Before he had gone more than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman and gave her a hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own home a short time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you so happy?" He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home. Her neighbor was stunned by the look of peace on her face, and she asked, "What did you do today that made you so happy?" She replied, "I ate Twinkies in the park with God." But before her neighbor responded,she added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Will someone see God in your smile or kind deeds? Maybe they're not even looking for God, but may see Him in the kindness you show. Isn't that what we're here for? It might be a stranger, someone you work with, a family member or friend. Let them see God in you. Show His love in all you do today."

-Author Unknown-

Thursday, November 12, 2009


When you've trusted God and walked his way,
When you've felt his hand lead you day by day,
But your steps now take you another way.....
Start Over

When you've made your plans and they've gone awry,
When you've tried your best and there's no more try,
When you've failed yourself and you don't know why......
Start Over

When you've told your friends what you plan to do,
When you've trusted them and they didn't come through;
And now you're all alone and it's up to you.....
Start Over

When you've failed your kids and they're grown and gone,
When you've done your best but it's turned out wrong,
And now your grandchildren have come along......
Start Over

When you've prayed to God so you'll know his will,
When you've prayed and prayed and you don't know still,
When you want to stop cause you've had your fill......
Start Over

When you think you're finished and want to quit,
When you've bottomed out in life's deepest pit,
When you've tried and tried to get out of it.....
Start Over

When the year has been long and successes are few,
When December comes and you're feeling blue,
God gives a January just for you....
Start Over

Starting over means "Victories Won";

Starting over means "A Race well run";

Starting over means "God's Will Be Done";

Don't just sit there...


-Author Unknown-

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


Standing for what you believe in,
Regardless of the odds against you,
and the pressure that tears at your resistance,
... means courage.

Keeping a smile on your face,
When inside you feel like dying,
For the sake of supporting others,
... means strength.

Stopping at nothing,
And doing what's in your heart,
You know is right,
... means determination.

Doing more than is expected,
To make another's life a little more bearable,
Without uttering a single complaint,
... means compassion.

Helping a friend in need,
No matter the time or effort,
To the best of your ability,
... means loyalty.

Giving more than you have,
And expecting nothing,
But nothing in return,
... means selflessness.

Holding your head high,
And being the best you know you can be
When life seems to fall apart at your feet,
Facing each difficulty with the confidence

That time will bring you better tomorrows,
And never giving up,
... means confidence.

-Author Unknown-

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God
Because He was my friend.

But then instead of leaving Him
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How could you be so slow"
"My child," He said, "What could I do?
You never did let go."

-Author Unknown-

Monday, November 9, 2009


Barbara was driving her six-year-old son, Benjamin, to his piano lesson.

They were late, and Barbara was beginning to think she should have cancelled it. There was always so much to do, and Barbara, a night-duty nurse at the local hospital, had recently worked extra shifts.

She was tired. The sleet storm and icy roads added to her tension. Maybe she should turn the car around.

"Mom!" Ben cried. "Look!" Just ahead, a car had lost control on a patch of ice. As Barbara tapped the brakes, the other car spun wildly rolled over, then crashed sideways into a telephone pole.

Barbara pulled over, skidded to a stop and threw open her door. Thank goodness she was a nurse - she might be able to help these unfortunate passengers.

Then she paused. What about Ben? She couldn't take him with her. Little boys shouldn't see scenes like the one she anticipated. But was it safe to leave him alone? What if their car were hit from behind?

For a brief moment Barbara considered going on her way. Someone else was sure to come along. No! "Ben, honey, promise me you'll stay in the car!"

"I will, Mommy," he said as she ran, slipping and sliding toward the crash site. It was worse than she'd feared. Two girls of high school age are in the car. One, the blonde on the passenger side, was dead, killed on impact.

The driver, however was still breathing. She was unconscious and pinned in the wreckage. Barbara quickly applied pressure to the wound in the teenager's head while her practiced eye catalogued the other injuries. A broken leg, maybe two, along with probable internal bleeding. But if help came soon, the girl would live.

A trucker had pulled up and was calling for help on his cellular phone. Soon Barbara heard the ambulance sirens. A few moments later she surrendered her lonely post to rescue workers.

"Good job," one said as he examined the driver's wounds. "You probably saved her life, ma'am." Perhaps.

But as Barbara walked back to her car a feeling of sadness overwhelmed her, especially for the family of the girl who had died. Their lives would never be the same. Oh God, why do such things have to happen?

Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. "Mom," he whispered, "did you see it?"

"See what, Honey?" she asked.

"The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky while you were running to the car. And he opened the door, and he took that girl out."

Barbara's eyes filled with tears. "Which door, Ben?"

"The passenger side. He took the girl's hand, and they floated up to Heaven together"

"What about the driver?"

Ben shrugged. "I didn't see anyone else."

Later, Barbara was able to meet the families of the victims. They expressed their gratitude for the help she had provided. Barbara was able to give them something more - Ben's vision.

There was no way he could have known what happened to either of the passengers. Nor could the passenger door have been opened; Barbara had seen its tangle of immovable steel herself. Yet Ben's account brought consolation to a grieving family. Their daughter was safe in Heaven. And they would see her again.

Sunday, November 8, 2009


The baby is teething, the children are fighting, and my husband just called and said to eat dinner without him. Okay, one of these days you'll shout, "Why don't you grow up and act your age?" ….. and they will.

Or, "You guys get outside and find yourself something to do and don't slam the door."

….. and they won't.

You'll straighten up their bedrooms all neat and tidy with bumper stickers discarded, bed-spread tucked and smoothed, toys all displayed on the shelves, hangers in the closets, animals caged, and you'll say out loud, "Now I want you to stay this way!"

…. and they will.

Then you'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death, a cake with no finger traces through the frosting, and you'll say, "Now there's a meal for company."

…. but you'll eat it alone.

And you'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone! No dancing around, no pantomimes, no demolition crews! Silence! Do you hear me?"

…. and you'll have it.

No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti, no more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent, no more dandelion bouquets, no more iron-on patches, no more wet-knotted shoe strings, no more tight boots, or rubber bands on pony tails.

Now, imagine your lipstick with a point. No baby sitter on New Year's Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. No PTA meetings, no car pools, no blaring radios, having your own roll of tape, no more Christmas presents made out of toothpicks and paste, no more wet-oatmeal kisses, no tooth fairy, no giggles in the dark, no knees to Band-aid.

Only a memory of a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?"

And in the silence will come the echo, "I did."

-Author Unknown-

Thursday, November 5, 2009


In a bustling village, somewhere and sometime, there was a town square surrounded by trees where the collectors gathered. These were people who made a living collecting things other peole had discarded. The collectors discovered that once you had enough of various discarded items, they became valuable again. The people of the village had the notion that if something was for sale, it must be worth buying. However strange this may seem, it was what the people thought, and this notion served the collectors well.

One collector had a splendid supply of glass bottles. He attracted attention to them by hanging some from tree and clinking them with sticks to make music. Another collector had a cartload of odd-sized shoes. She often commented how odd in size and shape people's feet were, so sooner or later her odd assortment of shoes would be distributed to the appropriate feet.

There were pot and pan collectors, stamp and book collectors, golf club and hat collectors, and comic book and sports card collector. All in all, it was quite a collection of collectors.

One day an old man came wandering into the village asking where the collector's plaza was located. He carried a large pack, but didn't seem to be burdened by its weight. Eventually, he found the square where the collectors collected, and he established himself off in one corner.

Naturally, the collectors discovered there was a new collector in town, and they eagerly inquired about what he had in the pack. He simply told them there was nothing in it but his lunch and a raincoat in case it rained. "You mean, you don't have a collection of some kind?" they asked. "Aren't you a collector?"

"Oh, yes," he said, "I'm very much a collector. But what I collect does not fit in a pack or a box. I collect people's care."

This was a strange idea to the people who heard this, so they asked him to explain. "Well, you see, I discovered long ago that one of the things everybody has too many of and constantly tries to get rid of, are cares, trials, burdens, sorrows, difficult times - all kind of things that weigh them down and make their lives sad. So I offer to collect these cares from the people and they feel better. Isn't that simple?"

Some of the regular collectors who heard this thought it was a silly belief and possibly one that was dangerous to their honored profession. They even considered reporting him to collector inspector.

The old man didn't seem to harm anyone, though, so they left him alone. Soon enough, someone asked him how he collected cares, and he replied, "Well, there is probably something in your life that bothers you right now - some care that you have. Just tell me about it and I will add it and I will add it to my collection."

"But how will that help me?" the inquirer asked. "Can you make the problem go away just because I tell you about it?"

"No," the care-collector replied, "but you will fell better about it. Try it."

So the person told the old man about something that was a problem. When the story was finished, the care-collector nodded his head deeply a few times, and then put his hand together as if to scoop up something heavy. He pretended to put it into his pack. "There, I have put it away. How do you feel?" he asked.

The person who had the care collected said, "Why, I do feel better. I think I can handle the problem much better now. It really works!"

Word spread, Soon there was a throng of people who came to give their cares to the care-collector. His spot eventually became the most popular one in the square.

One day a woman came into the village walking very slowly and with considerable difficulty. She seemed so burdened that the villagers took her straight to the care-collector. When he explained to her what kind of collector he was, she began to wail, "Oh, you don't know how many cares and burdens and wound there are in this world. I have just come from a city where there are more hurt and cares than anywhere else. Everyone suffer and no one has any hope left. The worst part is that the rulers of the city thrive and prosper on the cares of the common people. It is a horrible, desperate place. I just had to leave. It was the only hope I had left," she concluded.

The care-collector looked very solemn, He stood up and lifted his pack in a gesture that was slower and more painful than anyone had ever seen before. After a long silence, he spoke slowly. "I must go there."

The villagers and the woman put up a great protest. They didn't want to lose their care-collector. They were afraid that this city might be too much for him. They begged him to stay.

The old man slipped away in the middle of the night, because he didn't want his departure to be a burden and a sorrow for the people he had helped.

It was not long thereafter when a weary and burdened young man came into the village. The people knew without asking that he'd come from the city. They helped him as best they could, and when he was feeling better, they asked him if he knew about the old man who had left for the city several weeks ago.

"Know him!" the youth replied. "Why the whole city has been talking about him. Haven't you heard?"

"Why, no," the people chorused back, "Tell us what happened."

"This old man came quietly into the city and nobody noticed him, at first," the youth recounted. "Then once in a while you could see him talking to people - mostly listening, really. When a person finished talking to him, he bowed his head and did a funny thing with his hands and the person began to feel better."

"For the first time in a long while," the young man continued, "people in the city began to feel better and have a bit of hope for their own lives."

"Yes, we kno. He did that here, too," replied the villagers.

"Well, it didn't take long for the authorities to notice him. They told him to leave and to stop meddling in other people's lives. He simply refused," said the youth from the city.

The young man's eyes became very sad and he sobbed softly in his throat. He continued, "They put him in jail, at first, but even there he collected the cares of the other prisoners. Finally, the rulers decided that he was a subversive threat to their system of order and control. So they had him excuted."

The villagers gasped. Some began to cry.

"I am so sorry to bring you this sad news about your friend," said the youth. "He was my friend also. He really, genuinely cared about me."

The youth went on. "I feel better for telling you, painful as it is for us all. You know, it is like what he did before he died, his listening and collecting cares." His voiced trailed off as an idea began to lighten his burden.

"It still works!" he exclaimed. "Collecting cares still works! You can do it for me, and I can do it for you. He only showed us how!"

The young man jumped up, filled with new energy and strength. "I'm going back to the city!"

But what will you do there?" asked several villagers in unison. "You'll get hurt again. There are too many cares and burdens in that city."

"Exactly! Exactly!" he continued. "That's why I'm going. I will become a care-collector!"

written by Leo Remington

Tuesday, November 3, 2009


A man had a little daughter-an only and much-beloved child. He lived for her ~ she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts of the best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health.

His best efforts proved unavailing and the child died. The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from his many friends and refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self. But one night he had a dream. He was in Heaven, and was witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed angelic tot carried a candle. He noticed that one child's candle was not lighted. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl. Rushing to her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and then asked: "How is it, darling that your candle alone is unlighted? "Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it out."

Just then he awoke from his dream. The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate. From that hour on he was not a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates. No longer would his little darling's candle be extinguished by his useless tears.

written by Strickland Gillilan

Monday, November 2, 2009


As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah. It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!" "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter." She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number.

They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old? Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "

Even though it was already 10pm, I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television."

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.

The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael." She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."

"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know,"she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..."

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?" I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet."

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."

"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on.

I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up. On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"

This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?" I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward."

"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet." The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"

"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is." He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.

"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly. The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said,"You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her. "

"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me." We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?" She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"

She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!" He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces. "See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!" It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple. A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

-Author Unknown-

* I am sure many of you have come across this story but I posted it because it is such an inspiring and romantically beautiful story.

Sunday, November 1, 2009


On the day after Jack Benny's death in December, 1974, a single long stemmed red rose was delivered to Mary Livingstone Benny, his wife of 48 years.

When the blossoms continued to arrive, day after day, Mary called the florist to find out who sent them.

"Quite a while before Jack passed away," the florist told her, "He stopped in to send a bouquet. As he was leaving, he suddenly turned back and said, "If anything should happen to me, I want you to send Mary a single rose every day."

There was complete silence on Mary's end of the line, then weeping, she said, "Goodbye." Subsequently, Mary learned that Jack had actually included a provision for the flowers in his will, one perfect red rose daily for the rest of her life.

-Author Unknown-