"Do you like my dress?" she asked of a passing stranger. "My mommy made it just for me." She said with a tear in her eye.
"Well, I think it's very pretty, so tell me little one, why are you crying?"
With a quiver in her voice the little girl answered. "After Mommy made me this dress, she had to go away."
"Well, now," said the lady, "with a little girl like you waiting for her, I'm sure she'll be right back."
"No ma'am, you don't understand," said the child through her tears, "My Daddy said that she's up in heaven now with Grandfather."
Finally the woman realized what the child meant, and why she was crying. Kneeling down she gently cradled the child in her arms and together they cried for the mommy that was gone.
Then suddenly the little girl did something that the woman thought was a bit strange. She stopped crying, stepped back from the woman and began to sing.
She sang so softly that it was almost a whisper. It was the sweetest sound the woman had ever heard, almost like the song of a very small bird.
After the child stopped singing she explained to the lady, "My mommy used to sing that song to me before she went away, and she made me promise to sing it whenever I started crying and it would make me stop."
"See," she exclaimed, "it did, and now my eyes are dry!"
As the woman turned to go, the little girl grabbed her sleeve, "Lady, can you stay just a minute? I want to show you something."
"Of course," she answered, "what do you want me to see?"
Pointing to a spot on her dress, she said, "Right here is where my Mommy kissed my dress, and here," pointing to another spot, "and here is another kiss, and here, and here. Mommy said that she put all those kisses on my dress so that I would have her kisses for every boo-boo that made me cry."
Then the lady realized that she wasn't just looking at a dress, no, she was looking at a Mother ... Who knew that she was going away and would not be there to kiss away the hurts that she knew her daughter would get.
So she took all the love she had for her beautiful little girl and put them into this dress, that her child now so proudly wore. She no longer saw a little girl in a simple dress. She saw a child wrapped ...
In her Mother's love.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Monday, July 2, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Walk Slower, Daddy
"Walk a little slower, Daddy",
Said a little child so small.
"I'm following in your footsteps,
And I don't want to fall.
Sometimes your steps are very fast,
Sometimes they're hard to see;
So walk a little slower, Daddy,
For you are leading me.
Someday when I'm all grown up,
You're what I want to be;
Then I will have a little child
Who'll want to follow me.
And I would want to lead just right,
And know that I was true;
So, walk a little slower, Daddy,
For I must follow you."
-Author Unknown-
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The Joys of Motherhood
I was renewing my driver's license at the County Clerk's office and was asked by the woman recorder to state my occupation. I hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job?"
"Of course I have a job, I'm a mother."
"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation ... 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about this until one day I found myself in the same situation again, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career-woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title,
"What is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it, I do not know ... The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ballpoint pen frozen in midair, and looked up as though she had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't), in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (the whole darned family), and already have four credits, (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants - ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old), in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt triumphant! I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another mother."
Motherhood...What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door.
- Author Unknown ~
"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job?"
"Of course I have a job, I'm a mother."
"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation ... 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about this until one day I found myself in the same situation again, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career-woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title,
"What is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it, I do not know ... The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ballpoint pen frozen in midair, and looked up as though she had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't), in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out). I'm working for my Masters, (the whole darned family), and already have four credits, (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants - ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old), in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt triumphant! I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another mother."
Motherhood...What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door.
- Author Unknown ~
Saturday, June 9, 2012
The Pancake Lesson
Six-year-old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor.
He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.
Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove (and he didn't know how the stove worked!).
Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor.
Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky. And just then he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But his father just watched him.
Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process.
That's how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour.
Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him. But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right, and then they'll be glad we tried...
I was thinking... and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be said, sometimes, "I love you" can heal & bless.
Remind every one of your friends that you love them, Even if you think they don't love back, you would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile, and a reminder like can do.
-Author Unknown-
He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.
Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove (and he didn't know how the stove worked!).
Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor.
Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky. And just then he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But his father just watched him.
Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process.
That's how God deals with us. We try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour.
Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him. But just because we might mess up, we can't stop trying to "make pancakes" for God or for others. Sooner or later we'll get it right, and then they'll be glad we tried...
I was thinking... and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that need rekindling or three words needing to be said, sometimes, "I love you" can heal & bless.
Remind every one of your friends that you love them, Even if you think they don't love back, you would be amazed at what those three little words, a smile, and a reminder like can do.
-Author Unknown-
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Things We Keep
I grew up in the forties with practical parents. A Mother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original Recycle Queen, before they had a name for it.
A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.
Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the other.
It was the time for fixing things - a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.
It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, renewing, I just once wanted to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be more, and more.
But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes - there just isn't any "more."
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away, never to return.
So while we have it, it's best we love it. We care for it. We fix it when it's broken. And we heal it when it's sick.
This is true for marriage, for children with bad report cards, for aging parents, for best friends that move away, and for dogs with bad hips. These are things that make life important. Things we keep.
We keep them because they are worth it. Because we are worth it.
~ By Sheri Sobek ~
A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.
Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the other.
It was the time for fixing things - a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.
It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, renewing, I just once wanted to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be more, and more.
But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes - there just isn't any "more."
Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away, never to return.
So while we have it, it's best we love it. We care for it. We fix it when it's broken. And we heal it when it's sick.
This is true for marriage, for children with bad report cards, for aging parents, for best friends that move away, and for dogs with bad hips. These are things that make life important. Things we keep.
We keep them because they are worth it. Because we are worth it.
~ By Sheri Sobek ~
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Wrong Funeral
THIS IS HEART-WARMING. THE OPENING PARAGRAPH MAKES THE PROPERSTATEMENT TO SET THE MOOD. AND WE THINK GOD DOESN'T TALK TO US? Thanks to Freddie who sent me this post a long time ago.
Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew
where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - my mother.
She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so
intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive,
Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held box of tissues
while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my
father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my
entire life.
When mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby
and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart,
so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements,
to take care of her. I counted it an honor. 'What now, Lord?' I asked
sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss.
My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while
clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her
husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child...
All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been
with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her
to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together.
Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone I
heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick
footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor....
An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next
to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes
were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. 'I'm late,' he
explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several
eulogies, he leaned over and commented, 'Why do they keep calling
Mary by the name of ' Margaret?''
'Because, that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary, no one called
her 'Mary,'' I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have
sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with
his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?
'No, that isn't correct,' he insisted, as several people glanced over
at us whispering, 'Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.'
'That isn't who this is.'
'Isn't this the Lutheran church?'
'No, the Lutheran church is across the street.'
'Oh.'
'I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir.'
The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the
man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I
cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as
sobs.. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other
mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.
I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He
was laughing; too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late
for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.
At the final 'Amen,' we darted out a door and into the parking lot.
'I do believe we'll be the talk of the town,' he smiled. He said his
name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked
me out for a cup of coffee.
That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who
attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after
our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the
assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church,
right on time...
In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness,
God gave me love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second
wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick
tells them, 'Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's
truly a match made in heaven.'
If you Love God for all the marvellous things he has done for you,
send this on to others.
Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew
where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - my mother.
She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so
intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive,
Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held box of tissues
while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my
father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my
entire life.
When mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby
and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart,
so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements,
to take care of her. I counted it an honor. 'What now, Lord?' I asked
sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss.
My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while
clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her
husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child...
All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been
with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her
to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together.
Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone I
heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick
footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor....
An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next
to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes
were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. 'I'm late,' he
explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several
eulogies, he leaned over and commented, 'Why do they keep calling
Mary by the name of ' Margaret?''
'Because, that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary, no one called
her 'Mary,'' I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have
sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with
his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?
'No, that isn't correct,' he insisted, as several people glanced over
at us whispering, 'Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.'
'That isn't who this is.'
'Isn't this the Lutheran church?'
'No, the Lutheran church is across the street.'
'Oh.'
'I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir.'
The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the
man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I
cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as
sobs.. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other
mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.
I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He
was laughing; too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late
for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.
At the final 'Amen,' we darted out a door and into the parking lot.
'I do believe we'll be the talk of the town,' he smiled. He said his
name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked
me out for a cup of coffee.
That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who
attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after
our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the
assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church,
right on time...
In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness,
God gave me love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second
wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick
tells them, 'Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's
truly a match made in heaven.'
If you Love God for all the marvellous things he has done for you,
send this on to others.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
How to Love, God's Way
David was the fifth child in our family of eight kids. He was two years older than me and was born with Downs Syndrome. We lived in the "way outback" in south Alabama.
When I was a small girl, I was so totally embarrassed when people would stare at him as if he were a freak. He always noticed it, too. Many times he would ask the rest of the family why are they looking at me like that? We always told him it was because he was so handsome. But, I was still ashamed to be seen with him in public myself, and I was his sister.
One hot summer afternoon when David was 14 years old, he came running into the house sobbing loudly. His heart was breaking in two. Before I could get to him to see what was wrong, he had fallen down beside his bed and began to cry and pray. This was his prayer:
"God, why me? Why am I so different from everybody else? Nobody understands me. I just want to play with all the other boys and be like them. Why? Why? Why am I so different?"
My heart began to pound. My anger began to rise. I walked outside to see what had happened. My younger brothers said several boys from the neighborhood had been in our yard mocking and making fun of David after he asked if he could play with them. They broke his heart.
Remembering what I had just heard, my anger turned to rage. I went looking for those boys. They were still mocking David when I found them two houses away. I whipped 3 boys that afternoon, all bigger and older than me. I quickly ran home and confessed my fighting to Mom, before those boy's mothers could get to her.
David was still crying when I had gotten home. He stayed beside his bed for over three hours crying and praying to God. When he finally ended his prayer, he so quietly said to God:
"I want your will to be done in my life. Amen. Thank you, God."
Crying myself, I tried to comfort David that afternoon, but could not. He was too broken in spirit to hear me or to feel my compassion for him.
That was the first time I really knew that David fully understood how different he was. My image and view of him totally changed that afternoon. He became a strong focal point in my life. I loved him so dearly and took him with me everywhere when Mom allowed me to.
My admiration and respect for him knew no boundaries. He showed love to everyone he came in contact with. His life was centered around loving people unconditionally. He accepted everyone. He never spoke ill of any person. Even when people hurt his feelings, he forgave them immediately and hugged their necks.
It was many years later, when he died at 49 years of age, that 'I' received the answer to 'his' prayer. I realized the "why" of David's life.
Before he was placed on life support and was unable to speak to us, I was sitting on a short stool beside his hospital bed when David reached for my hand about 2:30 a.m. in the morning. He smiled at me, told me he loved me and asked,
"Sis, will you hold my hand when .... you know?"
I knew from the look in his eye that he knew something I did not even want to think about. I hugged him tightly, gave him a kiss on the forehead and agreed to hold his hand until he got better.
David's earthly body soon gave up. He could not fight to stay alive for us any more. I had been holding his hand and singing worship choruses to him for several hours. He left this life behind as I was singing "Amazing Grace."
So many people attended his funeral. He had touched so many different people. The main topic of conversation about David at the funeral focused on the way he had touched and loved so many people during his lifetime.
Then I remembered his prayer and this was God's answer. The reason David was born with Downs Syndrome, and the reason he was so different was so everyone who knew him could learn to love, God's way, by watching David shine with pure, unconditional, unfailing love, forgiveness and longsuffering. What a wonderful man my brother was!
My heart breaks each time I think of the physical and emotional suffering throughout his lifetime. But I smile each time I think of what he meant to so many people.
His reason for being was to teach us how to love. God's way.
~ Author Unknown ~
When I was a small girl, I was so totally embarrassed when people would stare at him as if he were a freak. He always noticed it, too. Many times he would ask the rest of the family why are they looking at me like that? We always told him it was because he was so handsome. But, I was still ashamed to be seen with him in public myself, and I was his sister.
One hot summer afternoon when David was 14 years old, he came running into the house sobbing loudly. His heart was breaking in two. Before I could get to him to see what was wrong, he had fallen down beside his bed and began to cry and pray. This was his prayer:
"God, why me? Why am I so different from everybody else? Nobody understands me. I just want to play with all the other boys and be like them. Why? Why? Why am I so different?"
My heart began to pound. My anger began to rise. I walked outside to see what had happened. My younger brothers said several boys from the neighborhood had been in our yard mocking and making fun of David after he asked if he could play with them. They broke his heart.
Remembering what I had just heard, my anger turned to rage. I went looking for those boys. They were still mocking David when I found them two houses away. I whipped 3 boys that afternoon, all bigger and older than me. I quickly ran home and confessed my fighting to Mom, before those boy's mothers could get to her.
David was still crying when I had gotten home. He stayed beside his bed for over three hours crying and praying to God. When he finally ended his prayer, he so quietly said to God:
"I want your will to be done in my life. Amen. Thank you, God."
Crying myself, I tried to comfort David that afternoon, but could not. He was too broken in spirit to hear me or to feel my compassion for him.
That was the first time I really knew that David fully understood how different he was. My image and view of him totally changed that afternoon. He became a strong focal point in my life. I loved him so dearly and took him with me everywhere when Mom allowed me to.
My admiration and respect for him knew no boundaries. He showed love to everyone he came in contact with. His life was centered around loving people unconditionally. He accepted everyone. He never spoke ill of any person. Even when people hurt his feelings, he forgave them immediately and hugged their necks.
It was many years later, when he died at 49 years of age, that 'I' received the answer to 'his' prayer. I realized the "why" of David's life.
Before he was placed on life support and was unable to speak to us, I was sitting on a short stool beside his hospital bed when David reached for my hand about 2:30 a.m. in the morning. He smiled at me, told me he loved me and asked,
"Sis, will you hold my hand when .... you know?"
I knew from the look in his eye that he knew something I did not even want to think about. I hugged him tightly, gave him a kiss on the forehead and agreed to hold his hand until he got better.
David's earthly body soon gave up. He could not fight to stay alive for us any more. I had been holding his hand and singing worship choruses to him for several hours. He left this life behind as I was singing "Amazing Grace."
So many people attended his funeral. He had touched so many different people. The main topic of conversation about David at the funeral focused on the way he had touched and loved so many people during his lifetime.
Then I remembered his prayer and this was God's answer. The reason David was born with Downs Syndrome, and the reason he was so different was so everyone who knew him could learn to love, God's way, by watching David shine with pure, unconditional, unfailing love, forgiveness and longsuffering. What a wonderful man my brother was!
My heart breaks each time I think of the physical and emotional suffering throughout his lifetime. But I smile each time I think of what he meant to so many people.
His reason for being was to teach us how to love. God's way.
~ Author Unknown ~
Friday, October 14, 2011
The Last Kiss
The Board Meeting had come to an end. Bob started to stand up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes. “How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age.”
Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others. Someone said, “Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment.”
Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood. “I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home.”
He looked at us and said, “I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch.
When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish.”
Frank’s voice dropped a bit. “When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear.
Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me goodbye!”
He paused and then went on, “I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, ‘No, Dad.’
It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face.
I said, ‘Dad, I’m too old for a goodbye kiss. I’m too old for any kind of kiss.’
My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘You are a big boy….a man. I won’t kiss you anymore.’”
Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. “It wasn’t long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats.”
I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks. Frank spoke again. “Guys, you don’t know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek… to feel his rough old face… to smell the ocean on him… to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a goodbye kiss.”
(Written by Bishop Thomas Charles Clary)
Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others. Someone said, “Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment.”
Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood. “I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home.”
He looked at us and said, “I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch.
When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish.”
Frank’s voice dropped a bit. “When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear.
Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me goodbye!”
He paused and then went on, “I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, ‘No, Dad.’
It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face.
I said, ‘Dad, I’m too old for a goodbye kiss. I’m too old for any kind of kiss.’
My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘You are a big boy….a man. I won’t kiss you anymore.’”
Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. “It wasn’t long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats.”
I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks. Frank spoke again. “Guys, you don’t know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek… to feel his rough old face… to smell the ocean on him… to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a goodbye kiss.”
(Written by Bishop Thomas Charles Clary)
Sunday, July 24, 2011
From Beyond The Grave
My friend, TO, sent me a link to a very beautiful and meaningful letter written by a father to his children. Paul’s greatest gift to his wife and children was a document titled ‘On finding fulfilment’, which Mandy discovered on his laptop, by chance last month.
Please click here to read that article that will surely move you deeply. Take care and have a lovely day.
Please click here to read that article that will surely move you deeply. Take care and have a lovely day.
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.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
To Touch Your Heart
When I got home that night, as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, "I've got something to tell you."
She sat down and ate quietly. I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking.
"I want a divorce."
I raised the topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, "Why?"
I avoided her question. This made her angry.
She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "You are not a man!"
That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage but I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer.
She had lost my heart to Jane.
I didn't love my wife anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement, which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.
She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger.
I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said, for I loved Jane so dearly.
Finally my wife cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of a divorce, which had obsessed me for several weeks, seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to bed and fell asleep very fast because I was tired, after an eventful day with Jane.
When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and went to sleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions. She didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested for the one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible.
Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me but she had something more. She asked me to recall how I had carried her into our bridal room, on our wedding day.
She requested that every morning, for the month's duration, I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door.
I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable, I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife's odd divorce condition. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd.
"No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce," she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy.
Our son clapped behind us, "Daddy is holding Mommy in his arms."
His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms.
She closed her eyes and said softly, "Don't tell our son about the divorce."
I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more; there were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her.
For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the third day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.
On the fourth and fifth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this.
It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
My wife was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one.
Then she sighed, "All my dresses have grown bigger."
I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin. That was the reason why I could carry her more easily.
Suddenly it hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, "Dad, it's time to carry Mom out."
To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute.
I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day but her much lighter weight made me sad.
On the last day, when I held her in my arms, I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school.
I held her tightly and said, "I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy."
I drove to office and then jumped out of the car swiftly, without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind.
I walked upstairs.
Jane opened the door and I said to her, "Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore."
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead.
"Do you have a fever?" she said.
I moved her hand off my head.
"Sorry, Jane," I said. "I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day, I am supposed to hold her until death do us part."
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.
At the floral shop, on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card.
I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until death do us part."
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands and a smile on my face. I ran upstairs only to find my wife in the bed - dead.
My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was too busy with Jane to even notice.
My wife knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from whatever negative reaction that might come from our son, in case we pushed through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son, I was a loving husband.
Morale of the story: The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, or the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!
Please consider sharing this story. If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you. If you do, you just might save a marriage.
Remember: Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up. And for those of us not married, we can learn the art of sticking together with our relationship partner, despite the odds. You are both stronger than the odds, only when you agree to stick together.
-Author Unknown-
*Thanks to Cleo who sent this beautiful post to me. Take care and have a beautiful day!
She sat down and ate quietly. I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking.
"I want a divorce."
I raised the topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, "Why?"
I avoided her question. This made her angry.
She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, "You are not a man!"
That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage but I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer.
She had lost my heart to Jane.
I didn't love my wife anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement, which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.
She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger.
I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said, for I loved Jane so dearly.
Finally my wife cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of a divorce, which had obsessed me for several weeks, seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to bed and fell asleep very fast because I was tired, after an eventful day with Jane.
When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and went to sleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions. She didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested for the one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible.
Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me but she had something more. She asked me to recall how I had carried her into our bridal room, on our wedding day.
She requested that every morning, for the month's duration, I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door.
I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable, I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife's odd divorce condition. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd.
"No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce," she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy.
Our son clapped behind us, "Daddy is holding Mommy in his arms."
His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms.
She closed her eyes and said softly, "Don't tell our son about the divorce."
I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more; there were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her.
For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the third day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.
On the fourth and fifth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this.
It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
My wife was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one.
Then she sighed, "All my dresses have grown bigger."
I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin. That was the reason why I could carry her more easily.
Suddenly it hit me... she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, "Dad, it's time to carry Mom out."
To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute.
I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day but her much lighter weight made me sad.
On the last day, when I held her in my arms, I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school.
I held her tightly and said, "I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy."
I drove to office and then jumped out of the car swiftly, without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind.
I walked upstairs.
Jane opened the door and I said to her, "Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore."
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead.
"Do you have a fever?" she said.
I moved her hand off my head.
"Sorry, Jane," I said. "I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day, I am supposed to hold her until death do us part."
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.
At the floral shop, on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card.
I smiled and wrote, "I'll carry you out every morning until death do us part."
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands and a smile on my face. I ran upstairs only to find my wife in the bed - dead.
My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was too busy with Jane to even notice.
My wife knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from whatever negative reaction that might come from our son, in case we pushed through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son, I was a loving husband.
Morale of the story: The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, or the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!
Please consider sharing this story. If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you. If you do, you just might save a marriage.
Remember: Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up. And for those of us not married, we can learn the art of sticking together with our relationship partner, despite the odds. You are both stronger than the odds, only when you agree to stick together.
-Author Unknown-
*Thanks to Cleo who sent this beautiful post to me. Take care and have a beautiful day!
Friday, November 26, 2010
Capturing Moments In Life
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-
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 11, 2010
From Father to Son
The following is a beautiful letter written by a father to his son. This applies to daughters too. Thanks to Angela who sent me this post.
*This letter was written by a renown Hong Kong TV broadcaster cum Child Psychologist.to his son from The words are actually applicable to all of us, young or old, children or parents.!
*I am writing this to you because of 3 reasons** *
1. Life, fortune and mishaps are unpredictable, nobody knows how long he lives. Some words are better said early.
2. I am your father, and if I don't tell you these, no one else will.
3. What is written is my own personal bitter experiences that perhaps could save you a lot of unnecessary heartaches.
Remember the following as you go through life
1. Do not bear grudge towards those who are not good to you. No one has the responsibility of treating you well, except your mother and I. To those who are good to you, you have to treasure it and be thankful, and ALSO you have to be cautious, because, everyone has a motive for every move. When a person is good to you, it does not mean he really likes you. You have to be careful, don't hastily regard him as a real friend.
2. No one is indispensable, nothing in the world that you must possess. Once you understand this idea, it would be easier for you to go through life when people around you don't want you anymore, or when you lose what/who you love most.
3. Life is short. When you waste your life today, tomorrow you would find that life is leaving you. The earlier you treasure your life, the better you enjoy life.
4. Love is but a transient feeling, and this feeling would fade with time and with one's mood. If your so called loved one leaves you, be patient, time will wash away your aches and sadness. Don't over exaggerate the beauty and sweetness of love, and don't over exaggerate the sadness of falling out of love.
5. A lot of successful people did not receive a good education, that does not mean that you can be successful by not studying hard! Whatever knowledge you gain is your weapon in life. One can go from rags to riches, but one has to start from some rags!
6. I do not expect you to financially support me when I am old, neither would I financially support your whole life. My responsibility as a supporter ends when you are grown up. After that, you decide whether you want to travel in a public transport or in your limousine, whether rich or poor.
7. You honour your words, but don't expect others to be so. You can be good to people, but don't expect people to be good to you. If you don't understand this, you would end up with unnecessary troubles.
8. I have bought lotteries for umpteen years, but I never strike any prize. That shows if you want to be rich, you have to work hard! There is no free lunch!
9. No matter how much time I have with you, let's treasure the time we have together. We do not know if we would meet again in our next life.
*This letter was written by a renown Hong Kong TV broadcaster cum Child Psychologist.to his son from The words are actually applicable to all of us, young or old, children or parents.!
*I am writing this to you because of 3 reasons** *
1. Life, fortune and mishaps are unpredictable, nobody knows how long he lives. Some words are better said early.
2. I am your father, and if I don't tell you these, no one else will.
3. What is written is my own personal bitter experiences that perhaps could save you a lot of unnecessary heartaches.
Remember the following as you go through life
1. Do not bear grudge towards those who are not good to you. No one has the responsibility of treating you well, except your mother and I. To those who are good to you, you have to treasure it and be thankful, and ALSO you have to be cautious, because, everyone has a motive for every move. When a person is good to you, it does not mean he really likes you. You have to be careful, don't hastily regard him as a real friend.
2. No one is indispensable, nothing in the world that you must possess. Once you understand this idea, it would be easier for you to go through life when people around you don't want you anymore, or when you lose what/who you love most.
3. Life is short. When you waste your life today, tomorrow you would find that life is leaving you. The earlier you treasure your life, the better you enjoy life.
4. Love is but a transient feeling, and this feeling would fade with time and with one's mood. If your so called loved one leaves you, be patient, time will wash away your aches and sadness. Don't over exaggerate the beauty and sweetness of love, and don't over exaggerate the sadness of falling out of love.
5. A lot of successful people did not receive a good education, that does not mean that you can be successful by not studying hard! Whatever knowledge you gain is your weapon in life. One can go from rags to riches, but one has to start from some rags!
6. I do not expect you to financially support me when I am old, neither would I financially support your whole life. My responsibility as a supporter ends when you are grown up. After that, you decide whether you want to travel in a public transport or in your limousine, whether rich or poor.
7. You honour your words, but don't expect others to be so. You can be good to people, but don't expect people to be good to you. If you don't understand this, you would end up with unnecessary troubles.
8. I have bought lotteries for umpteen years, but I never strike any prize. That shows if you want to be rich, you have to work hard! There is no free lunch!
9. No matter how much time I have with you, let's treasure the time we have together. We do not know if we would meet again in our next life.
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Pencil and the Eraser
Pencil: I'm sorry....
Eraser: For what? You didn't do anything wrong.
Pencil: I'm sorry cos you get hurt bcos of me. Whenever I made a mistake, you're always there to erase it. But as you make my mistakes vanish, you lose a part of yourself. You get smaller and smaller each time.
Eraser: That's true. But I don't really mind. You see, I was made to do this. I was made to help you whenever you do something wrong. Even though one day, I know I'll be gone and you'll replace me with a new one, I'm actually happy with my job. So please, stop worrying. I hate seeing you sad. :)
I found this conversation between the pencil and the eraser very inspirational.
Parents are like the eraser whereas their children are the pencil. They're always there for their children, cleaning up their mistakes. Sometimes along the way... they get hurt, and become smaller (older, and eventually pass on). Though their children will eventually find someone new (spouse), but parents are still happy with what they do for their children, and will always hate seeing their precious ones worrying, or sad.
This is for all parents out there.....
Hang in there!
*Special thanks to Angela who sent me this post.
Eraser: For what? You didn't do anything wrong.
Pencil: I'm sorry cos you get hurt bcos of me. Whenever I made a mistake, you're always there to erase it. But as you make my mistakes vanish, you lose a part of yourself. You get smaller and smaller each time.
Eraser: That's true. But I don't really mind. You see, I was made to do this. I was made to help you whenever you do something wrong. Even though one day, I know I'll be gone and you'll replace me with a new one, I'm actually happy with my job. So please, stop worrying. I hate seeing you sad. :)
I found this conversation between the pencil and the eraser very inspirational.
Parents are like the eraser whereas their children are the pencil. They're always there for their children, cleaning up their mistakes. Sometimes along the way... they get hurt, and become smaller (older, and eventually pass on). Though their children will eventually find someone new (spouse), but parents are still happy with what they do for their children, and will always hate seeing their precious ones worrying, or sad.
This is for all parents out there.....
Hang in there!
*Special thanks to Angela who sent me this post.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
GOD, make me a TV!
A teacher from Primary School asks her students to write a essay about what they would like God to do for them... At the end of the day, while marking the essays,she read one that made her very emotional.
Her husband, who had just walked in, saw her crying and asked her:- 'What happened?'
She answered- 'Read this. It is one of my students' essay.'
'Oh God, tonight I ask you something very special :
Make me into a television. I want to take its place and live like the TV in my house.
Have my own special place, And have my family around ME.
To be taken seriously when I talk....
I want to be the centre of attention and be heard without interruptions or questions.
I want to receive the same special care that theTV receives even when it is not working.
Have the company of my dad when he arrives home from work, even when he is tired.
And I want my mom to want me when she is sad and upset, instead of ignoring me...
And... I want my brothers to fight to be with me...
I want to feel that family just leaves everything aside, every now and then, just to spend some time with me.
And last but not least, ensure that I can make them all happy and entertain them...
Lord I don't ask you for much... I just want to live like a TV.'
At that moment the husband said :- 'My God, poor kid. What horrible parents!'
The wife looked up at him and said:- 'That essay is our son's !!!
-Author Unknown-
*Thanks to Angela who sent me this story. Have a nice day, dear reader!
Her husband, who had just walked in, saw her crying and asked her:- 'What happened?'
She answered- 'Read this. It is one of my students' essay.'
'Oh God, tonight I ask you something very special :
Make me into a television. I want to take its place and live like the TV in my house.
Have my own special place, And have my family around ME.
To be taken seriously when I talk....
I want to be the centre of attention and be heard without interruptions or questions.
I want to receive the same special care that theTV receives even when it is not working.
Have the company of my dad when he arrives home from work, even when he is tired.
And I want my mom to want me when she is sad and upset, instead of ignoring me...
And... I want my brothers to fight to be with me...
I want to feel that family just leaves everything aside, every now and then, just to spend some time with me.
And last but not least, ensure that I can make them all happy and entertain them...
Lord I don't ask you for much... I just want to live like a TV.'
At that moment the husband said :- 'My God, poor kid. What horrible parents!'
The wife looked up at him and said:- 'That essay is our son's !!!
-Author Unknown-
*Thanks to Angela who sent me this story. Have a nice day, dear reader!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
FILIAL PIETY
FUZHOU — Wang Yuxia’s husband once promised to take her to all the beautiful sights across the country. But when he suddenly died, it seemed her dream had died as well.
So it was up to her sons to carry out their father’s promise.
Realizing their 81-year-old mother gets carsick easily and they cannot afford to travel luxuriously, they built a three-wheeled carriage to take her around the country — powered only by their own feet and the determination to express love.
“We are not doing this for money or fame. We are just spreading the virtue of filial piety,” said Wang Kai, 59.
“Compared to what our mother has done for us, what we give in return is never enough,” he added.
During their first trip in 2007, they spent 265 days traveling across 25 provinces and two municipalities before arriving in Hong Kong .
This time, in 165 days, the two brothers have hauled the carriage more than 4,500 km from Heilongjiang province in the northwest to Fujian province in the southeast.
Their target destination is Taiwan .
“Out biggest dream is to carry our mother around the island,” Wang Kai said.
The carriage, built for 5,000 yuan ($730), is fitted with three beds, windows and heat-retaining panels to make mom comfortable.
The brothers named it “Thanksgiving” to express gratitude for their mother’s love.
Wang Yuxia can usually be seen enjoying the sights through the windows.
“My sons have been taking good care of me on the way,” she said, and the warmth of the carriage has prevented her from catching cold.
She is happy to have seen more than 100 tourist attractions so far.
“I’m very moved by what they’ve done. I can’t thank them enough,” she said.
On the road, Wang Kai pulls the carriage from the front while younger brother Wang Rui, 57, pushes it from behind.
So far, they have worn out six pairs of shoes.
“I can walk 107 steps every minute and 10 hours every day, which means 65,000 steps or about 40 km a day,: said Wang Rui.
That is almost the distance of an Olympic marathon.
The brothers’ love for their mother has moved thousands of people.
In September last year, the Taiwan Sleep Disorders Association, a non-governmental organization, invited them to tell their story.
And on March 3 this year, the brothers were invited to conduct a class on filial piety at Fuzhou University .
They have already spend half of the 40,000 yuan they put together before setting out on their journey.
Supporters and admirers have been providing clothes, food, drinks and other daily necessities.
“The brothers are doing whatever they can do to make their mother happy and I must do something for them,” said Zhuo Feng, a resident in Fuzhou , capital of Fujian , who bought the brothers new shoes and their mother new clothes.
A number of businessmen who were moved by the Wang brothers’ filial act also offered them money, but the brothers said they will not accept any cash for their undertaking.
In a letter written to his wife, Wang Rui said it is the love of their mother that has helped them conquer all difficulties.
“Making our mother happy is priceless,” he said.
During their first trip to Hong Kong , the brothers decorated the roof of their carriage with four dragons to symbolize their Chinese heritage. These were later changed to doves of peace to express their desire for peaceful ties across the Taiwan Straits.
They have been in Fujian nearly a month now, waiting for authorities to approve their travel to Taiwan .
Wang Kai said all they know about Taiwan is from books, which say Ali Mountain and Sun Moon Lake are beautiful. The island’s fruits are also famous, he said.
On Aug 8 last year, when brothers heard about the earthquake hitting Taiwan , they immediately donated 1,000 yuan to the Red Cross Society of China to help quake victims.
“People across the Straits are one family,” Wang Rui said.
“We are just helping our brothers and sisters in our way.”
*The above article was sent to me from a googlegroup forum that I belong to. Source not stated.
So it was up to her sons to carry out their father’s promise.
Realizing their 81-year-old mother gets carsick easily and they cannot afford to travel luxuriously, they built a three-wheeled carriage to take her around the country — powered only by their own feet and the determination to express love.
“We are not doing this for money or fame. We are just spreading the virtue of filial piety,” said Wang Kai, 59.
“Compared to what our mother has done for us, what we give in return is never enough,” he added.
During their first trip in 2007, they spent 265 days traveling across 25 provinces and two municipalities before arriving in Hong Kong .
This time, in 165 days, the two brothers have hauled the carriage more than 4,500 km from Heilongjiang province in the northwest to Fujian province in the southeast.
Their target destination is Taiwan .
“Out biggest dream is to carry our mother around the island,” Wang Kai said.
The carriage, built for 5,000 yuan ($730), is fitted with three beds, windows and heat-retaining panels to make mom comfortable.
The brothers named it “Thanksgiving” to express gratitude for their mother’s love.
Wang Yuxia can usually be seen enjoying the sights through the windows.
“My sons have been taking good care of me on the way,” she said, and the warmth of the carriage has prevented her from catching cold.
She is happy to have seen more than 100 tourist attractions so far.
“I’m very moved by what they’ve done. I can’t thank them enough,” she said.
On the road, Wang Kai pulls the carriage from the front while younger brother Wang Rui, 57, pushes it from behind.
So far, they have worn out six pairs of shoes.
“I can walk 107 steps every minute and 10 hours every day, which means 65,000 steps or about 40 km a day,: said Wang Rui.
That is almost the distance of an Olympic marathon.
The brothers’ love for their mother has moved thousands of people.
In September last year, the Taiwan Sleep Disorders Association, a non-governmental organization, invited them to tell their story.
And on March 3 this year, the brothers were invited to conduct a class on filial piety at Fuzhou University .
They have already spend half of the 40,000 yuan they put together before setting out on their journey.
Supporters and admirers have been providing clothes, food, drinks and other daily necessities.
“The brothers are doing whatever they can do to make their mother happy and I must do something for them,” said Zhuo Feng, a resident in Fuzhou , capital of Fujian , who bought the brothers new shoes and their mother new clothes.
A number of businessmen who were moved by the Wang brothers’ filial act also offered them money, but the brothers said they will not accept any cash for their undertaking.
In a letter written to his wife, Wang Rui said it is the love of their mother that has helped them conquer all difficulties.
“Making our mother happy is priceless,” he said.
During their first trip to Hong Kong , the brothers decorated the roof of their carriage with four dragons to symbolize their Chinese heritage. These were later changed to doves of peace to express their desire for peaceful ties across the Taiwan Straits.
They have been in Fujian nearly a month now, waiting for authorities to approve their travel to Taiwan .
Wang Kai said all they know about Taiwan is from books, which say Ali Mountain and Sun Moon Lake are beautiful. The island’s fruits are also famous, he said.
On Aug 8 last year, when brothers heard about the earthquake hitting Taiwan , they immediately donated 1,000 yuan to the Red Cross Society of China to help quake victims.
“People across the Straits are one family,” Wang Rui said.
“We are just helping our brothers and sisters in our way.”
*The above article was sent to me from a googlegroup forum that I belong to. Source not stated.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
NOT JUST ANOTHER MOM
JUST A MOM?
A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office,
was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.
She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
'What I mean is, ' explained the recorder,
'do you have a job or are you just a ?'
'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman.
'I'm a Mom.'
'We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation,
'housewife' covers it,'
Said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself
in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.'
'What is your occupation?' she probed.
What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
'I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.'
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not! heard r ight.
I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest,
'just what you do in your field?'
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
'I have a continuing program of research,
(which mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had gone on the official records as someone more
distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.'
Motherhood!
What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.
Does this make grandmothers
'Senior R esearch associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations'
And great grandmothers
'Executive Senior Research Associates?'
I think so!!!
I also think it makes Aunts
' Associate Research Assistants.'
Please send this to another Mom,
Grandmother,
Aunt,
And other friends you know.
May your troubles be less,
Your blessing be more,
And nothing but happiness come through your door!
A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office,
was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.
She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
'What I mean is, ' explained the recorder,
'do you have a job or are you just a ?'
'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman.
'I'm a Mom.'
'We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation,
'housewife' covers it,'
Said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself
in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.'
'What is your occupation?' she probed.
What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
'I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.'
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not! heard r ight.
I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest,
'just what you do in your field?'
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
'I have a continuing program of research,
(which mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had gone on the official records as someone more
distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.'
Motherhood!
What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.
Does this make grandmothers
'Senior R esearch associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations'
And great grandmothers
'Executive Senior Research Associates?'
I think so!!!
I also think it makes Aunts
' Associate Research Assistants.'
Please send this to another Mom,
Grandmother,
Aunt,
And other friends you know.
May your troubles be less,
Your blessing be more,
And nothing but happiness come through your door!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
FLYING
Once upon a time there was a little boy who was raised in a orphanage.
The little boy had always wished that he could fly like a bird. It was very difficult for him to understand why he could not fly. There were birds at the zoo that were much bigger than he, and they could fly.
"Why can't I?" he thought. "Is there something wrong with me?" he wondered.
There was another little boy who was crippled. He had always wished that he could walk and run like other little boys and girls.
"Why can't I be like them?" he thought.
One day the little orphan boy who had wanted to fly like a bird ran away from the orphanage. He came upon a park where he saw the little boy who could not walk or run playing in the sandbox.
He ran over to the little boy and asked him if he had ever wanted to fly like a bird.
"No," said the little boy who could not walk or run. "But I have wondered what it would be like to walk and run like other boys and girls."
"That is very sad." said the little boy who wanted to fly. "Do you think we could be friends?" he said to the little boy in the sandbox.
"Sure." said the little boy.
The two little boys played for hours. They made sand castles and made really funny sounds with their mouths. Sounds which made them laugh real hard. Then the little boy's father came with a wheelchair to pick up his son. The little boy who had always wanted to fly ran over to the boy's father and whispered something into his ear.
"That would be OK," said the man.
The little boy who had always wanted to fly like a bird ran over to his new friend and said, "You are my only friend and I wish that there was something that I could do to make you walk and run like other little boys and girls. But I can't. But there is something that I can do for you."
The little orphan boy turned around and told his new friend to slide up onto his back. He then began to run across the grass. Faster and faster he ran, carrying the little crippled boy on his back. Faster and harder he ran across the park. Harder and harder he made his legs travel. Soon the wind just whistled across the two little boys' faces.
The little boy's father began to cry as he watched his beautiful little crippled son flapping his arms up and down in the wind, all the while yelling at the top of his voice,
"I'M FLYING, DADDY. I'M FLYING!"
written by Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
DID I MARRY THE RIGHT PERSON?
During one of our seminars, a woman asked a common question. She said, 'How do I know if I married the right person?'
I noticed that there was a large man sitting next to her so I said, 'It depends. Is that your husband?'
In all seriousness, she answered 'How do you know?'
Let me answer this question because the chances are good that it's weighing on your mind. Here's the answer.
EVERY relationship has a cycle. In the beginning, you fell in love with your spouse/partner. You anticipated their call, wanted their touch, and liked their idiosyncrasies (unconventional behavior/habit).
Falling in love with your spouse wasn't hard. In fact, it was a completely natural and spontaneous experience. You didn't have to DO anything. That's why it's called 'falling' in love...Because it's happening TO YOU.
People in love sometimes say, 'I was swept off my feet.' Think about the imagery of that expression. It implies that you were just standing there; doing nothing, and then something came along and happened TO YOU.
Falling in love is easy. It's a passive and spontaneous experience. But after a few years of marriage,the euphoria(excitement) of love fades. It's the natural cycle of EVERY relationship.
Slowly but surely, phone calls become a bother (if they come at all), touch is not always welcome (when it happens), and your spouse's idiosyncrasies, instead of being cute, drive you nuts.
The symptoms of this stage vary with every relationship, but if you think about your marriage, you will notice a dramatic difference between the initial stage when you were in love and a much duller or even angry subsequent stage.
At this point, you and/or your spouse might start asking, 'Did I marry the right person?' And as you and your spouse reflect on the euphoria of the love you once had, you may begin to desire that experience with someone else. This is when marriages breakdown. People blame their spouse for their unhappiness and look outside their marriage for fulfillment.
Extramarital fulfillment comes in all shapes and sizes. Infidelity is the most obvious. But sometimes people turn to work, a hobby, a friendship, excessive TV, or abusive substances.
But the answer to this dilemma does NOT lie outside your marriage. It lies within it. I'm not saying that you couldn't fall in love with someone else. You could.
And TEMPORARILY you'd feel better. But you'd be in the same situation a few years later. Because (listen carefully to this):
THE KEY TO SUCCEEDING IN MARRIAGE IS NOT FINDING THE RIGHT PERSON; IT'S LEARNING TO LOVE THE PERSON YOU FOUND.
SUSTAINING love is not a passiveor spontaneous experience. It'll NEVERjust happen to you. You can't 'find' LASTING love. You have to 'make' it day in and day out. That's why we have the __expression 'the labor of love.'
Because it takes time, effort, and energy. And most importantly, it takes W IS DOM. You have to know WHAT TO DO to make your marriage work.
Make no mistake about it. Love is NOT a mystery. There are specific things you can do (with or without your spouse) to succeed with your marriage.
Just as there are physical laws of the universe (such as gravity), there are also laws for relationships. Just as the right diet and exercise program makes you physically stronger, certain habits in your relationship WILL make your marriage stronger. It's a direct cause and effect. If you know and apply the laws, the results are predictable... you can 'make' love.
Love in marriage is indeed a 'decision'... Not just a feeling.
Remember this always:
'God determines who walks into your life. It is up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.'
I noticed that there was a large man sitting next to her so I said, 'It depends. Is that your husband?'
In all seriousness, she answered 'How do you know?'
Let me answer this question because the chances are good that it's weighing on your mind. Here's the answer.
EVERY relationship has a cycle. In the beginning, you fell in love with your spouse/partner. You anticipated their call, wanted their touch, and liked their idiosyncrasies (unconventional behavior/habit).
Falling in love with your spouse wasn't hard. In fact, it was a completely natural and spontaneous experience. You didn't have to DO anything. That's why it's called 'falling' in love...Because it's happening TO YOU.
People in love sometimes say, 'I was swept off my feet.' Think about the imagery of that expression. It implies that you were just standing there; doing nothing, and then something came along and happened TO YOU.
Falling in love is easy. It's a passive and spontaneous experience. But after a few years of marriage,the euphoria(excitement) of love fades. It's the natural cycle of EVERY relationship.
Slowly but surely, phone calls become a bother (if they come at all), touch is not always welcome (when it happens), and your spouse's idiosyncrasies, instead of being cute, drive you nuts.
The symptoms of this stage vary with every relationship, but if you think about your marriage, you will notice a dramatic difference between the initial stage when you were in love and a much duller or even angry subsequent stage.
At this point, you and/or your spouse might start asking, 'Did I marry the right person?' And as you and your spouse reflect on the euphoria of the love you once had, you may begin to desire that experience with someone else. This is when marriages breakdown. People blame their spouse for their unhappiness and look outside their marriage for fulfillment.
Extramarital fulfillment comes in all shapes and sizes. Infidelity is the most obvious. But sometimes people turn to work, a hobby, a friendship, excessive TV, or abusive substances.
But the answer to this dilemma does NOT lie outside your marriage. It lies within it. I'm not saying that you couldn't fall in love with someone else. You could.
And TEMPORARILY you'd feel better. But you'd be in the same situation a few years later. Because (listen carefully to this):
THE KEY TO SUCCEEDING IN MARRIAGE IS NOT FINDING THE RIGHT PERSON; IT'S LEARNING TO LOVE THE PERSON YOU FOUND.
SUSTAINING love is not a passiveor spontaneous experience. It'll NEVERjust happen to you. You can't 'find' LASTING love. You have to 'make' it day in and day out. That's why we have the __expression 'the labor of love.'
Because it takes time, effort, and energy. And most importantly, it takes W IS DOM. You have to know WHAT TO DO to make your marriage work.
Make no mistake about it. Love is NOT a mystery. There are specific things you can do (with or without your spouse) to succeed with your marriage.
Just as there are physical laws of the universe (such as gravity), there are also laws for relationships. Just as the right diet and exercise program makes you physically stronger, certain habits in your relationship WILL make your marriage stronger. It's a direct cause and effect. If you know and apply the laws, the results are predictable... you can 'make' love.
Love in marriage is indeed a 'decision'... Not just a feeling.
Remember this always:
'God determines who walks into your life. It is up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.'
-Author Unknown-
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Monday, July 20, 2009
THE EXTRAORDINARY DAD
My Dad is 87 years old, although tells everybody, because he believes it to be true that he is 77! He talks about people who are “getting on” but doesn’t put himself in the same category.
He was christened Kenneth, however, his family call him Jack and my mum’s family and most of his friends call him Mick! He was only known as Ken at his workplace. As you can imagine, this has led to confusion over the years!
Apparently, just after he was born, he was crying in his cot and his Grandfather said something along the lines of “Listen to Jack crying” and so Jack he became.
Mick came about when he first met my mum. There were a gang of lads and my Mum thought she heard someone call my Dad Mick, so that’s what she called him. He didn’t have the heart to tell her any different, until shortly before they were married.
When he was in hospital a couple of years ago, nursing staff and patients were very confused, when all the different visitors trooping in at various times,were calling him by different names. In the end, the nurses put a note over the top of his bed “Ken AKA Mick AKA Jack! Much to the amusement of us all.
To my sister and I he was “Dad”and he was a brilliant Dad when we were growing up. He should have had boys as every night when he came home from work, he would play cricket with us in the garden, take us on bike rides, take us walking, pointing out wildlife and birds nests and such like, climbing trees with us. In the Autumn, we would collect huge amounts of conkers and play endless rounds of conkers!
Talking of conkers, recently, he had a carpet fitted in the spare room, so I was emptying out the wardrobe to make it easier to move. As I was taking stuff out, a load of conkers fell out of the wardrobe, bouncing all over, hitting me on the head, probably about twenty in all. When I asked him why he had a load of conkers stuffed in the wardrobe, he informed that they keep the moths away! Now I don’t know if there is any scientific basis in that, all I know is that I’d never heard it before and nor has anybody else I’ve related the tale to, which is a fair few people!
Christmas was always magical. My poor Dad would be up super early, as my sister and I were awake about 5am. He would light the fire (coal fire, no convenient gas fire) and when he thought it was warm enough, he would call us and we would come thundering down the stairs, giggling and excited and ripping open our presents.
I know it’s an old cliche to say “We didn’t have a lot of money” we didn’t, but we never went without. My Dad worked all week and weekends to provide for his family, because it was what he wanted to do. He never saw it as a sacrifice.
He must have a very special place in God’s heart, as he has had some real close brushes with death and lived to tell the tale.
When I was two, one foggy morning, he went into the back of a bus whilst on his motorbike and he wasn’t wearing a crash helmet! Apparently, he hit the bus so hard, he went straight through the back of it, ending up in the aisle! He had a fractured skull, internal bleeding and my Mum was told to prepare for the worst. What they didn’t count on was my Dad’s incredible stubborn streak. He would not give up, was home in record time, with no long lasting damage and just a small scar on his forehead! (still there today! 54 years later!)
Another time, he got off a train at Barking station. It would have been fine, except he got out of the wrong door and fell straight onto a live line! Not even a scratch! Amazing everybody who witnessed this extraordinary event. That sums him up! Extraordinary! It is little wonder he has earned himself the nickname within his very close circle “Mad Mick!”
He was delighted when he got four grandsons within three years and although they are now all grown up, they all have a very special bond with their Grandad, although they believe him to be extremely eccentric!
Particularly as he told them how originally his family were gypsies, (Kings of the Road as he also told my sister and I) and he used to live in a caravan, travelling all over! They thought it was great, (As we did when we first heard it) even though untrue!
In the last few years, despite having two hip replacements within two years, he has dedicated himself to looking after my mum who sadly suffers from dementia. It is extremely hard work for him, particularly as both my sister and I live so far away. We get there as much as we can and do as much as we can when we are there, to give him a break. Of course he takes complete advantage!! I know how much he enjoys and appreciates it. We do it because we love him. Because he looked after us when we were growing up, now it’s time he was looked after.
He will not accept outside help. Far too stubborn. He once told me, he will always look after my Mum because before she was ill she was his wife, the mother of his children and his best friend. I just loved him for that!
My sister and I take him and my Mum to a cottage on a farm near St. Osyths Essex at least once a year. (He always seems to manipulate us into it, without us even realising!) and he really enjoys it. He loves walking round the farm, talking to the farmer and his wife (he got their life history out of them on his very first visit) and as it is close by to the farm, he loves going to Brightlingsea, sitting outside at the little cafe, in the sunshine, people watching. He always starts chatting to somebody.
So that’s my extraordinary Dad. There are hundreds of stories I could tell and no doubt will in future.
I know God at some point will decide we’ve had the pleasure of his company long enough and that it is now his turn to experience that and I’m sure my Dad will totally reorganise God and Heaven when he gets there!
In the meantime I am so grateful he is here and he is my Dad. He may be known by three different names, but to us who know and love him he is a one off, a very unique man.
Written by Janet Wilks
He was christened Kenneth, however, his family call him Jack and my mum’s family and most of his friends call him Mick! He was only known as Ken at his workplace. As you can imagine, this has led to confusion over the years!
Apparently, just after he was born, he was crying in his cot and his Grandfather said something along the lines of “Listen to Jack crying” and so Jack he became.
Mick came about when he first met my mum. There were a gang of lads and my Mum thought she heard someone call my Dad Mick, so that’s what she called him. He didn’t have the heart to tell her any different, until shortly before they were married.
When he was in hospital a couple of years ago, nursing staff and patients were very confused, when all the different visitors trooping in at various times,were calling him by different names. In the end, the nurses put a note over the top of his bed “Ken AKA Mick AKA Jack! Much to the amusement of us all.
To my sister and I he was “Dad”and he was a brilliant Dad when we were growing up. He should have had boys as every night when he came home from work, he would play cricket with us in the garden, take us on bike rides, take us walking, pointing out wildlife and birds nests and such like, climbing trees with us. In the Autumn, we would collect huge amounts of conkers and play endless rounds of conkers!
Talking of conkers, recently, he had a carpet fitted in the spare room, so I was emptying out the wardrobe to make it easier to move. As I was taking stuff out, a load of conkers fell out of the wardrobe, bouncing all over, hitting me on the head, probably about twenty in all. When I asked him why he had a load of conkers stuffed in the wardrobe, he informed that they keep the moths away! Now I don’t know if there is any scientific basis in that, all I know is that I’d never heard it before and nor has anybody else I’ve related the tale to, which is a fair few people!
Christmas was always magical. My poor Dad would be up super early, as my sister and I were awake about 5am. He would light the fire (coal fire, no convenient gas fire) and when he thought it was warm enough, he would call us and we would come thundering down the stairs, giggling and excited and ripping open our presents.
I know it’s an old cliche to say “We didn’t have a lot of money” we didn’t, but we never went without. My Dad worked all week and weekends to provide for his family, because it was what he wanted to do. He never saw it as a sacrifice.
He must have a very special place in God’s heart, as he has had some real close brushes with death and lived to tell the tale.
When I was two, one foggy morning, he went into the back of a bus whilst on his motorbike and he wasn’t wearing a crash helmet! Apparently, he hit the bus so hard, he went straight through the back of it, ending up in the aisle! He had a fractured skull, internal bleeding and my Mum was told to prepare for the worst. What they didn’t count on was my Dad’s incredible stubborn streak. He would not give up, was home in record time, with no long lasting damage and just a small scar on his forehead! (still there today! 54 years later!)
Another time, he got off a train at Barking station. It would have been fine, except he got out of the wrong door and fell straight onto a live line! Not even a scratch! Amazing everybody who witnessed this extraordinary event. That sums him up! Extraordinary! It is little wonder he has earned himself the nickname within his very close circle “Mad Mick!”
He was delighted when he got four grandsons within three years and although they are now all grown up, they all have a very special bond with their Grandad, although they believe him to be extremely eccentric!
Particularly as he told them how originally his family were gypsies, (Kings of the Road as he also told my sister and I) and he used to live in a caravan, travelling all over! They thought it was great, (As we did when we first heard it) even though untrue!
In the last few years, despite having two hip replacements within two years, he has dedicated himself to looking after my mum who sadly suffers from dementia. It is extremely hard work for him, particularly as both my sister and I live so far away. We get there as much as we can and do as much as we can when we are there, to give him a break. Of course he takes complete advantage!! I know how much he enjoys and appreciates it. We do it because we love him. Because he looked after us when we were growing up, now it’s time he was looked after.
He will not accept outside help. Far too stubborn. He once told me, he will always look after my Mum because before she was ill she was his wife, the mother of his children and his best friend. I just loved him for that!
My sister and I take him and my Mum to a cottage on a farm near St. Osyths Essex at least once a year. (He always seems to manipulate us into it, without us even realising!) and he really enjoys it. He loves walking round the farm, talking to the farmer and his wife (he got their life history out of them on his very first visit) and as it is close by to the farm, he loves going to Brightlingsea, sitting outside at the little cafe, in the sunshine, people watching. He always starts chatting to somebody.
So that’s my extraordinary Dad. There are hundreds of stories I could tell and no doubt will in future.
I know God at some point will decide we’ve had the pleasure of his company long enough and that it is now his turn to experience that and I’m sure my Dad will totally reorganise God and Heaven when he gets there!
In the meantime I am so grateful he is here and he is my Dad. He may be known by three different names, but to us who know and love him he is a one off, a very unique man.
Written by Janet Wilks
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