Normally, I post inspiring articles in this blog but this post will be a departure from the norm.
This evening I came across this article @ Livestrong.com and I would like to share it with you.
The article is titled Things to Eat and Drink When Losing Weight.
You can read more about it at THIS LINK.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The Wallet
The Wallet
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 wa s 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 any one 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 10 P.m., 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 momen t 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 good-bye. 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 w as 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?'
Hannah 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 gaspe d, '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.
If this inspirational message blesses you, pass it on... Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only love will leave footprints in your heart. May God hold you in the palm of his hand and Angels watch over you.
-Author Unknown-
*I have posted this before two years ago but Angela sent this again to me recently so I thought I'd share this beautiful story again. Have a nice day!
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 wa s 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 any one 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 10 P.m., 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 momen t 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 good-bye. 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 w as 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?'
Hannah 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 gaspe d, '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.
If this inspirational message blesses you, pass it on... Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only love will leave footprints in your heart. May God hold you in the palm of his hand and Angels watch over you.
-Author Unknown-
*I have posted this before two years ago but Angela sent this again to me recently so I thought I'd share this beautiful story again. Have a nice day!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
A Precious Lesson
Take the time and effort to read to the end. Read the following and have a GREAT day!
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine.. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' th em peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis.. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand
And led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.
They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho ..'
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral :
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
-Author Unknown-
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles
~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
An unexpected phone call from an old friend ....
Green stoplights on your way to work...
The fastest line at the grocery store...
A good sing-along song on the radio...
Your keys found right where you left them.
I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine.. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' th em peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis.. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'. Mr. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand
And led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about.
They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho ..'
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral :
We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.
-Author Unknown-
Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles
~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself...
An unexpected phone call from an old friend ....
Green stoplights on your way to work...
The fastest line at the grocery store...
A good sing-along song on the radio...
Your keys found right where you left them.
Friday, March 18, 2011
The Lesson from the Speeding Ticket
Thanks to SK Tio who sent me the following post.
Be who you are and say what you feel... because those that matter don't mind...
and those that mind don't matter!
Read This Slowly
Jack took a long look at his speedometer
Before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone.
Fourth time in as many months..
How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour,
Jack pulled over, but only partially.
Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard..
Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.
The cop was stepping out of his car,
The big pad in hand..
Bob? Bob from Church?
Jack sunk farther into his trench coat.
This was worse than the coming ticket.
A cop catching a guy from his own church.
A guy who happened to be a little eager
To get home after a long day at the office..
A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car,
He approached a man he saw every Sunday,
A man he'd never seen in uniform.
'Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.'
'Hello, Jack.' No smile.
'Guess you caught me red-handed
In a rush to see my wife and kids.'
'Yeah, I guess.' Bob seemed uncertain.
Good.
'I've seen some long days at the office lately.
I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this once.'
Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.
'Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight.
Know what I mean?'
'I know what you mean.
I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct .'
Ouch.
This was not going in the right direction.
Time to change tactics.
'What'd you clock me at?'
'Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?'
'Now wait a minute here, Bob.
I checked as soon as I saw you.
I was barely nudging 65.'
The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
'Please, Jack, in the car'
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard..
He was in no rush to open the window.
The minutes ticked by..
Bob scribbled away on the pad..
Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason,
It would be a month of Sundays
Before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left.
There was Bob, a folded paper in hand
Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches,
Just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
'Thanks..'
Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word.
Jack watched his retreat in the mirror.
Jack unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute.
What was this? Some kind of joke?
Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:
'Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter..
She was six when killed by a car.
You guessed it - a speeding driver.
A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free.
Free to hug his daughters, all three of them.
I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven
Before I can ever hug her again.
A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man.
A thousand times I thought I had.
Maybe I did, but I need to do it again.
Even now.
Pray for me.
And be careful, Jack,
my son is all I have left.'
'Bob'
Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car
pull away and head down the road.
Jack watched until it disappeared.
A full 15 minutes later, he too,
pulled away and drove slowly home,
praying for forgiveness and
hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived....
Life is precious.
Handle with care.
This is an important message;
please pass it along to your friends.
Drive safely and carefully.
Remember, cars are not the only things
recalled by their maker.
Be who you are and say what you feel... because those that matter don't mind...
and those that mind don't matter!
Read This Slowly
Jack took a long look at his speedometer
Before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone.
Fourth time in as many months..
How could a guy get caught so often?
When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour,
Jack pulled over, but only partially.
Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard..
Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.
The cop was stepping out of his car,
The big pad in hand..
Bob? Bob from Church?
Jack sunk farther into his trench coat.
This was worse than the coming ticket.
A cop catching a guy from his own church.
A guy who happened to be a little eager
To get home after a long day at the office..
A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow.
Jumping out of the car,
He approached a man he saw every Sunday,
A man he'd never seen in uniform.
'Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this.'
'Hello, Jack.' No smile.
'Guess you caught me red-handed
In a rush to see my wife and kids.'
'Yeah, I guess.' Bob seemed uncertain.
Good.
'I've seen some long days at the office lately.
I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit -just this once.'
Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.
'Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight.
Know what I mean?'
'I know what you mean.
I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct .'
Ouch.
This was not going in the right direction.
Time to change tactics.
'What'd you clock me at?'
'Seventy. Would you sit back in your car please?'
'Now wait a minute here, Bob.
I checked as soon as I saw you.
I was barely nudging 65.'
The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.
'Please, Jack, in the car'
Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door. Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard..
He was in no rush to open the window.
The minutes ticked by..
Bob scribbled away on the pad..
Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license?
Whatever the reason,
It would be a month of Sundays
Before Jack ever sat near this cop again.
A tap on the door jerked his head to the left.
There was Bob, a folded paper in hand
Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches,
Just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.
'Thanks..'
Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
Bob returned to his police car without a word.
Jack watched his retreat in the mirror.
Jack unfolded the sheet of paper.
How much was this one going to cost?
Wait a minute.
What was this? Some kind of joke?
Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read:
'Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter..
She was six when killed by a car.
You guessed it - a speeding driver.
A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free.
Free to hug his daughters, all three of them.
I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until Heaven
Before I can ever hug her again.
A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man.
A thousand times I thought I had.
Maybe I did, but I need to do it again.
Even now.
Pray for me.
And be careful, Jack,
my son is all I have left.'
'Bob'
Jack turned around in time to see Bob's car
pull away and head down the road.
Jack watched until it disappeared.
A full 15 minutes later, he too,
pulled away and drove slowly home,
praying for forgiveness and
hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived....
Life is precious.
Handle with care.
This is an important message;
please pass it along to your friends.
Drive safely and carefully.
Remember, cars are not the only things
recalled by their maker.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Life's Lessons
1. Indecision is the key to flexibility.
2. You can't tell which way the train went by looking at the track.
3. There is absolutely no substitute for a genuine lack of preparation.
4. Happiness is merely the remission of pain.
5. Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
6. Sometimes too much to drink is not enough.
7. The facts, although interesting, are irrelevant.
8. The careful application of terror is also a form of communication.
9. Someone who thinks logically is a nice contrast to the real world.
10. Things are more like they are today than they ever were before.
11. Anything worth fighting for is worth fighting dirty for.
12. Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler.
13. Friends may come and go, but enemies accumulate.
14. I have seen the truth and it makes no sense.
15. Suicide is the most sincere form of self-criticism.
16. If you think there is good in everybody, you haven't met everybody.
17. If you can smile when things go wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.
18. One seventh of your life is spent on Monday.
19. By the time you make ends meet, they move the ends.
20. Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.
21. There is always one more imbecile than you counted on.
22. This is as bad as it can get, but don't count on it.
23. Never wrestle ananimal. You just get dirty and it pisses off the animal.
24. The trouble with life is you're halfway through it before you realize it’s a do-it-yourself thing.
-Author Unknown-
2. You can't tell which way the train went by looking at the track.
3. There is absolutely no substitute for a genuine lack of preparation.
4. Happiness is merely the remission of pain.
5. Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
6. Sometimes too much to drink is not enough.
7. The facts, although interesting, are irrelevant.
8. The careful application of terror is also a form of communication.
9. Someone who thinks logically is a nice contrast to the real world.
10. Things are more like they are today than they ever were before.
11. Anything worth fighting for is worth fighting dirty for.
12. Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler.
13. Friends may come and go, but enemies accumulate.
14. I have seen the truth and it makes no sense.
15. Suicide is the most sincere form of self-criticism.
16. If you think there is good in everybody, you haven't met everybody.
17. If you can smile when things go wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.
18. One seventh of your life is spent on Monday.
19. By the time you make ends meet, they move the ends.
20. Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.
21. There is always one more imbecile than you counted on.
22. This is as bad as it can get, but don't count on it.
23. Never wrestle ananimal. You just get dirty and it pisses off the animal.
24. The trouble with life is you're halfway through it before you realize it’s a do-it-yourself thing.
-Author Unknown-
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Mother and the Son
This is a powerful message in our modern society. We seemed to have lost our bearing & our sense of direction.
One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.
He passed the first interview, the director who did the last interview, made the last decision.
The director discovered from the CV that the youth's academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, never had a year when he did not score.
The director asked, "Did you obtain any scholarships in school?" the youth answered "none".
The director asked, " Was it your father who paid for your school fees?" The youth answered, "My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees.
The director asked, " Where did your mother work?" The youth answered, "My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect.
The director asked, " Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?" The youth answered, "Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me.
The director said, "I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother's hands, and then see me tomorrow morning.*
The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid.
The youth cleaned his mother's hands slowly. His tear fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother's hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water.
This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother's hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future.
After finishing the cleaning of his mother hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother.
That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.
Next morning, the youth went to the director's office.
The Director noticed the tears in the youth's eyes, asked: " Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?"
The youth answered, " I cleaned my mother's hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes'
The Director asked, " please tell me your feelings."
The youth said, Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, by working together and helping my mother, only I now realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship.
The director said, " This is what I am looking for to be my manager.
I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired.
Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company's performance improved tremendously.
A child, who has been protected and habitually given whatever he wanted, would develop "entitlement mentality" and would always put himself first. He would be ignorant of his parent's efforts. When he starts work, he assumes that every person must listen to him, and when he becomes a manager, he would never know the sufferings of his employees and would always blame others. For this kind of people, who may be good academically, may be successful for a while, but eventually would not feel sense of achievement. He will grumble and be full of hatred and fight for more. If we are this kind of protective parents, are we really showing love or are we destroying the kid instead?*
You can let your kid live in a big house, eat a good meal, learn piano, watch a big screen TV. But when you are cutting grass, please let them experience it. After a meal, let them wash their plates and bowls together with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you do not have money to hire a maid, but it is because you want to love them in a right way. You want them to understand, no matter how rich their parents are, one day their hair will grow gray, same as the mother of that young person. The most important thing is your kid learns how to appreciate the effort and experience the difficulty and learns the ability to work with others to get things done.
You would have forwarded many mails to many and many of them would have back mailed you too...but try and forward this story to as many as possible...this may change somebody's fate...
-Author Unknown-
HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY AND A GREAT WEEK AHEAD
One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.
He passed the first interview, the director who did the last interview, made the last decision.
The director discovered from the CV that the youth's academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, never had a year when he did not score.
The director asked, "Did you obtain any scholarships in school?" the youth answered "none".
The director asked, " Was it your father who paid for your school fees?" The youth answered, "My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees.
The director asked, " Where did your mother work?" The youth answered, "My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect.
The director asked, " Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?" The youth answered, "Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me.
The director said, "I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother's hands, and then see me tomorrow morning.*
The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid.
The youth cleaned his mother's hands slowly. His tear fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother's hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water.
This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother's hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future.
After finishing the cleaning of his mother hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother.
That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.
Next morning, the youth went to the director's office.
The Director noticed the tears in the youth's eyes, asked: " Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?"
The youth answered, " I cleaned my mother's hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes'
The Director asked, " please tell me your feelings."
The youth said, Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, by working together and helping my mother, only I now realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship.
The director said, " This is what I am looking for to be my manager.
I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired.
Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company's performance improved tremendously.
A child, who has been protected and habitually given whatever he wanted, would develop "entitlement mentality" and would always put himself first. He would be ignorant of his parent's efforts. When he starts work, he assumes that every person must listen to him, and when he becomes a manager, he would never know the sufferings of his employees and would always blame others. For this kind of people, who may be good academically, may be successful for a while, but eventually would not feel sense of achievement. He will grumble and be full of hatred and fight for more. If we are this kind of protective parents, are we really showing love or are we destroying the kid instead?*
You can let your kid live in a big house, eat a good meal, learn piano, watch a big screen TV. But when you are cutting grass, please let them experience it. After a meal, let them wash their plates and bowls together with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you do not have money to hire a maid, but it is because you want to love them in a right way. You want them to understand, no matter how rich their parents are, one day their hair will grow gray, same as the mother of that young person. The most important thing is your kid learns how to appreciate the effort and experience the difficulty and learns the ability to work with others to get things done.
You would have forwarded many mails to many and many of them would have back mailed you too...but try and forward this story to as many as possible...this may change somebody's fate...
-Author Unknown-
HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY AND A GREAT WEEK AHEAD
Monday, March 7, 2011
Another Brand New Day
The sun has begun to set and I hang up the smile I've worn all day. Though I will make sure it is the first thing I put back on in the morning because just in case it is 'that day,' I want her to see me at my very best.
I do the normal routine, eat dinner, clean the house, write -- the usual stuff.
And then I lay down hoping to fall asleep quickly so my new day will hurry up and arrive. A new day with a brand new sun.
But as I lay there and wait for the world to turn half way around, I think about her. And sometimes I smile, and sometimes that smile will turn into a snicker, and then often that snicker will turn into a burst of laughter.
And then there are times I get that lump in my throat and that tight feeling in my chest, and sometimes that feeling overwhelms me and begins to turn into a tear, and often that tear multiplies itself and I can no longer fight the feeling and I lose the battle.
Then somehow through either the joy or the sadness I drift and find myself asleep. Then the dreams begin and keep me company until my new day arrives.
When I awake it's with such excitement! Because I tell myself this could be the day that every other day has led up to and the first day of the rest of my life. I quickly dawn my smile, because I do so want her to see me at my very best. Then I look out the window even though I know it's dawn, but I still have to confirm I've been given another chance to find her.
And there it is ... the sun, even when it's cloudy; somehow I still see it. And it smiles at me and I say "thank you" and I smile back.
Then I ask myself, "Is this the day?" And the excitement rushes over me again. And then I ask myself, "Where's it going to be?"
Maybe it'll be at the water fountain and unexpectedly there I'll find her and much more than my thirst will be quenched.
Maybe it'll be at the grocery store, and there she'll appear as I'm picking out fruit and she'll show me the difference between fresh and spoiled. Then from that moment, nothing that I will eat will ever taste the same. Because she'll bring out the simplest beauties in everything I see, taste, smell, hear, or touch.
Or maybe today will be the day when my Angel brings an item up to the cash register without its price tag. And as I wait behind this Angel with all the frustrated people who are in such a hurry about their busy lives, I will find myself with such blessed extra time. Just enough time to start a conversation with this beautiful vision standing behind me that I might not otherwise would have noticed. But because of a "price check on register 5," I was able to find her.
So will today be the day I say, "THANK YOU GOD!" Thank you for the sun, which began my new day. Thank you for granting me the faith when I arose this morning that I would find her in this new day. But most of all, thank you for me not having to ever wait on another sunrise. Because whenever I want to see it, I will look at her and there it shall always be, in her eyes, she will forever hold it for me.
She is my sunrise, my dawn, my new day.
-Author Unknown-
I do the normal routine, eat dinner, clean the house, write -- the usual stuff.
And then I lay down hoping to fall asleep quickly so my new day will hurry up and arrive. A new day with a brand new sun.
But as I lay there and wait for the world to turn half way around, I think about her. And sometimes I smile, and sometimes that smile will turn into a snicker, and then often that snicker will turn into a burst of laughter.
And then there are times I get that lump in my throat and that tight feeling in my chest, and sometimes that feeling overwhelms me and begins to turn into a tear, and often that tear multiplies itself and I can no longer fight the feeling and I lose the battle.
Then somehow through either the joy or the sadness I drift and find myself asleep. Then the dreams begin and keep me company until my new day arrives.
When I awake it's with such excitement! Because I tell myself this could be the day that every other day has led up to and the first day of the rest of my life. I quickly dawn my smile, because I do so want her to see me at my very best. Then I look out the window even though I know it's dawn, but I still have to confirm I've been given another chance to find her.
And there it is ... the sun, even when it's cloudy; somehow I still see it. And it smiles at me and I say "thank you" and I smile back.
Then I ask myself, "Is this the day?" And the excitement rushes over me again. And then I ask myself, "Where's it going to be?"
Maybe it'll be at the water fountain and unexpectedly there I'll find her and much more than my thirst will be quenched.
Maybe it'll be at the grocery store, and there she'll appear as I'm picking out fruit and she'll show me the difference between fresh and spoiled. Then from that moment, nothing that I will eat will ever taste the same. Because she'll bring out the simplest beauties in everything I see, taste, smell, hear, or touch.
Or maybe today will be the day when my Angel brings an item up to the cash register without its price tag. And as I wait behind this Angel with all the frustrated people who are in such a hurry about their busy lives, I will find myself with such blessed extra time. Just enough time to start a conversation with this beautiful vision standing behind me that I might not otherwise would have noticed. But because of a "price check on register 5," I was able to find her.
So will today be the day I say, "THANK YOU GOD!" Thank you for the sun, which began my new day. Thank you for granting me the faith when I arose this morning that I would find her in this new day. But most of all, thank you for me not having to ever wait on another sunrise. Because whenever I want to see it, I will look at her and there it shall always be, in her eyes, she will forever hold it for me.
She is my sunrise, my dawn, my new day.
-Author Unknown-
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Price of Freedom
Have you ever been tempted to cut a corner or to take the easiest route, though you know it may not necessarily be the best one? Or have you ever made a decision because it was quick and simple, knowing that it might come back to bite you later?
I appreciate a parable Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard told about the dangers of taking the easy route. It is a story about a wild duck. Though life was difficult at times, the beautiful creature loved the boundless heavens and the endless stretches of wilderness. Soaring about treetops and towns, the duck symbolized to its tame counterparts, who could not fly, the epitome of freedom.
One evening during fall migration, he chanced to light in a barnyard where a farmer was feeding his ducks. The beautiful creature ate the corn the farmer sprinkled about and liked it so much that he stayed the night in a bed of warm straw. He ate the duck's corn again the next day. And the next. And the next....
When spring came, he heard his old companions flying overhead and an almost forgotten yearning awoke deep within him. The duck had all but squelched his instinct for freedom over the comfortable and easy winter. But now he yearned to join his comrades in the sky. He flapped his stretched wings as he strained toward the flock, but he had grown fat and indolent and unable to fly. The wild duck had become a tame duck.
The easy way through our problems, though appealing, may not be the best way. (Remember...the only place you will find success before work is in the dictionary!). It's always easier to borrow than to save; easier to jump in now than to do the hard work of planning; easier to postpone confronting a situation than to remedy it; easier to cut corners than to do it right; easier to remain the same than to make changes.
If you want to fly, you may have to pay a price. But freedom is worth it -- at any cost!
Are you ready to soar?
-Author Unknown
I appreciate a parable Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard told about the dangers of taking the easy route. It is a story about a wild duck. Though life was difficult at times, the beautiful creature loved the boundless heavens and the endless stretches of wilderness. Soaring about treetops and towns, the duck symbolized to its tame counterparts, who could not fly, the epitome of freedom.
One evening during fall migration, he chanced to light in a barnyard where a farmer was feeding his ducks. The beautiful creature ate the corn the farmer sprinkled about and liked it so much that he stayed the night in a bed of warm straw. He ate the duck's corn again the next day. And the next. And the next....
When spring came, he heard his old companions flying overhead and an almost forgotten yearning awoke deep within him. The duck had all but squelched his instinct for freedom over the comfortable and easy winter. But now he yearned to join his comrades in the sky. He flapped his stretched wings as he strained toward the flock, but he had grown fat and indolent and unable to fly. The wild duck had become a tame duck.
The easy way through our problems, though appealing, may not be the best way. (Remember...the only place you will find success before work is in the dictionary!). It's always easier to borrow than to save; easier to jump in now than to do the hard work of planning; easier to postpone confronting a situation than to remedy it; easier to cut corners than to do it right; easier to remain the same than to make changes.
If you want to fly, you may have to pay a price. But freedom is worth it -- at any cost!
Are you ready to soar?
-Author Unknown
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